Chapter 5

Nathaniel shook his head, a bitter laugh escaping his lips. "Because I’m not like everyone else, Mum. I don’t want what you want. I don’t want marriage, and I don’t want to be trapped by expectations and obligations. That’s not the life I want, and I won’t live it for anyone."

He turned away from her, the conversation clearly over in his mind. His mother stood there, speechless for a moment, before she spoke again, her voice low and resigned. "You don’t understand, Nathaniel. I just want what’s best for you. I want to see you happy, even if you don’t know what that looks like yet."

Nathaniel’s expression softened, but only for a fleeting moment. He sighed deeply and faced her one last time. "I’m not getting married, Mum. And that’s final. If you want a grandson, I’ll get you one, but I’m not changing my life for anyone. Not even you."

With that, he turned sharply and walked toward the door, his footsteps echoing in the large, empty room. His mother watched him go, the weight of her unspoken words hanging heavy between them. She had hoped, for so long, that one day he would come around; that he would understand the importance of family, of love, of legacy. But Nathaniel was steadfast, unwilling to bend, unwilling to listen to her plea for him to open his heart.

As the door slammed behind him, his mother stood still, her heart heavy with the silence that now enveloped her. She had never imagined it would be this difficult. She had always believed that a mother’s love and a grandmother’s desire for family could sway her son. But it seemed, no matter what she said, no matter what she did, Nathaniel would remain distant, locked in his own world, untouched by her wishes.

As Nathaniel drove away from the mansion, the cool evening air rushed in through the open window. His thoughts were a whirlwind of frustration and confusion. Why couldn’t his mother understand? Why couldn’t she accept him for who he was? He had chosen his path, and he wasn’t going to let anyone change it.

In the quiet solitude of his car, Nathaniel made a silent vow: He would get the surrogate, he would give his mother what she wanted, but he would never allow himself to be trapped by the idea of marriage. Not for anyone. Not even for his family.

…..

Clara stepped into the dimly lit bar, the heavy weight of her thoughts pressing down on her as she took a seat at a quiet corner table. It was a far cry from the woman she once imagined herself to be: strong, independent, and in control. But today, nothing felt in her control. Her life had been turned upside down in a single moment with that shocking pregnancy news, and she had no idea how to make sense of it all.

The moment the bartender set the bottle of alcohol in front of her, Clara didn't hesitate. She unscrewed the cap, pouring herself a glass, the sharp scent of the liquor almost comforting in its bitterness. "Just for tonight," she whispered to herself, as she took the first sip. The burn in her throat mirrored the ache in her heart.

How could she face her father? How could she explain this to her colleagues, who would surely never understand? Would they think she was some kind of liar? Pretending to be someone she wasn’t? The thought of her stepmother's scathing judgment made Clara’s stomach turn. For years, her stepmother had criticized her every move, every decision, always ready to tear her down. How could Clara possibly explain the impossible truth?

And then there were the suitors: the ones who had come to her with marriage proposals, hoping she would settle down with one of them. She had rejected them all, preferring independence over the idea of a life in a cage. But now, her life felt as if it were falling apart. The truth of her pregnancy weighed on her, a secret she was afraid to reveal to anyone. The pressure of hiding it, of pretending everything was fine, felt too much to bear.

She closed her eyes, trying to steady her nerves, but the chaos inside her mind was relentless. She had no idea what her next step should be.

As Clara swirled the glass in her hand, lost in thought, the door to the bar swung open. The cold air rushed in as a tall figure strode in: confident, almost arrogant in his posture. Nathaniel Brooks. Clara’s heart sank when she saw him. The last person she wanted to deal with, and yet, there he was, striding across the room like he owned it.

When his eyes met hers, a smirk spread across his face. He made his way toward her table with long, purposeful strides, his expensive shoes clicking against the wooden floor. "Well, well, well," he said, his voice laced with amusement. "Look who we have here. The rude lady from yesterday, on the road right?." He pulled out the chair opposite her and sat down without waiting for an invitation.

Clara’s jaw tightened, her irritation flaring instantly. "You’re the rude and arrogant one here," she shot back, meeting his gaze with defiance. She didn’t need this man’s attitude, not tonight.

Nathaniel chuckled, a rich, deep sound that seemed almost mocking. "Oh, I’m not here for jokes," he said, leaning back in his chair, his arms crossing over his chest. "I need a favor from you. And it comes with a rather... generous offer." His eyes gleamed with a mixture of interest and something else, something unreadable.

Clara raised an eyebrow. "What could you possibly want from me?" she asked, still wary of him and his sudden interest in her.

Nathaniel’s smile grew wider. "I need you to be my surrogate mother," he said casually, as though he were asking her to pass him the salt. "I will pay you handsomely for it, of course. I’m not asking for charity. Just a simple agreement, and you’ll be well taken care of."

Clara felt a wave of disbelief wash over her. Her mind raced as she processed his words. Was he serious? "What do you really take me for?" she said, her voice steady despite the rising anger inside her. "Do you think I’m someone you can just buy with money? I’m not interested."

She could see Nathaniel’s face falter for just a split second before he quickly recovered, his usual smirk returning. "Fine," he said, standing up from the table. "But I’m not giving up so easily. Here’s my business card. Call me if you change your mind." He placed the card on her table with a deliberate, almost careless motion before turning to leave.

Clara stared at the business card for a moment, the edges of it sharp and precise, just like him. He hadn’t even bothered to offer an apology for the way he had treated her the day before, yet here he was, offering her money: offering to pay her to carry his child. The audacity. The arrogance. But something inside her stirred, a strange mix of curiosity and desperation.

She picked up the card, her fingers brushing against the sleek surface. Could she really do this? Could she let this man’s proposal be the solution to her tangled mess of a life? On the surface, it seemed like a way out. A way to pin the pregnancy on him, to hide the shame she felt. She could pretend this was all part of some grand plan. She wouldn’t have to explain anything to anyone. No one would need to know the truth.

She stared at the card again, the weight of the decision settling on her shoulders. Was this the answer she was looking for?

Her mind swirled with conflicting thoughts, each one louder than the last. On the one hand, it seemed like a perfect solution: a way to hide her secret and escape the consequences. On the other hand, it felt like a betrayal of everything she had believed in. How could she trust someone like Nathaniel, a man she barely knew? A man who treated her like a means to an end?

Clara didn’t know. But as she took another sip from her glass, the smooth burn of the alcohol calming her nerves, she realized that she didn’t know what else to do.

For the first time in days, she felt a strange sense of clarity. Maybe this was the answer. Maybe she should call him. Maybe this was her only chance to regain control, to salvage whatever she could from this mess.

Clara put the card down, her decision looming just on the horizon. Would she make the call? Would she take the offer?

Only time would tell.