The Billionaire's $500,000 baby

Liora's POV

The car hummed. It was a low, expensive vibration that felt like it was trying to lull me to sleep, but I was too wired to close my eyes. I sat as far away from Xavier as I could, pressed against the door, watching the city turn into a blur of grey and black.

"Is the hospital still reporting?" I asked. My voice sounded small in the leather-scented cabin...

Xavier didn't look up from his tablet. "Stable, Liora. I told you. Results are being managed. The surgeons won't leave the room until she's out of the woods."

"Stable," I whispered. I looked at my reflection in the window. My hair was drying into a frizzy, tangled mess. 

My uniform was damp and smelled like old dishwater and rain. I was the opposite of stable. I felt like I was falling apart.

"You should try to rest," Xavier said. He finally looked at me, and for a second, I thought I saw a flicker of something...maybe just basic concern. "It's a long drive. And the intake tonight won't be easy."

"The mapping?" I asked. The word made my skin crawl.

"The medical team," he corrected. "Darian likes to know exactly what he's working with. He wants the data before the process begins."

"I'm not data," I snapped. "I'm a person. I have a name."

"In that building back there, you were Liora Hayes," Xavier said, his voice dropping to a calm, flat tone. "In this car, and at the estate, you are a Volkov responsibility. It's better if you stop thinking of yourself as a girl from a diner. That girl doesn't exist anymore."

I clutched my father's satchel tighter. The leather was cracked and worn, a sharp contrast to the flawless interior of the car. "My father said our name was the only thing they couldn't take."

Xavier leaned back. "Your father was a dreamer, Liora. Dreamers don't survive in this world. Darian is a realist. He didn't take your name; you traded it. There's a difference."

The honesty of it felt like a cold bucket of water. He wasn't trying to be mean. He was just stating a fact. I had walked into that office and traded "Liora Hayes" for a wire transfer.

"What am I supposed to do when we get there?" I asked. My heart started to race again. "Do I just... wait in a room?"

"You'll be shown to the West Wing," Xavier said. "It's been prepared. It has its own entrance, its own garden. You'll have everything you need. Clothes. Food. Medical staff on call."

"Everything except my freedom," I muttered.

Xavier didn't answer that. He just looked back at his tablet. The blue light reflected in his eyes.

"What's the house like?" I asked, mostly just to keep the silence away. The silence made me think about the "medical evaluation" and the doctors I didn't know.

"Big," he said. "Quiet. It's been the family seat for generations. It's private. No one comes in or out without a reason."

"I'm the reason now," I said.

The car turned off the main highway. The streetlights vanished, replaced by thick trees that arched over the road like skeletal fingers. The silence grew heavier. I looked at the window and saw a girl about my age walking a dog under a lone lamp in a small town we were passing. She was wearing a hoodie and sneakers. She looked normal.

I watched her until she was a tiny dot in the distance. I wondered if she knew how lucky she was to just be a girl walking a dog in the rain.

"Do you think he'll really do it?" I asked softly. "The trust fund? The nursing? He won't just... forget once the baby is here?"

Xavier closed his tablet and finally turned fully toward me. "He doesn't lie, Liora. If it's in the contract, it's a done deal. Your mother will be the most well-cared-for woman in the country. That is a guarantee."

I nodded, feeling a lump in my throat. I had to believe him. I had to believe that all of this...the cage, the mapping, the cold man in the tower....was worth it.

The car slowed down. Up ahead, I saw two massive stone pillars and a gate that looked like it belonged to a fortress.

"Deep breaths, Liora," Xavier said. "The intake is just the beginning. Don't let them see you shake.

I gripped the strap of my bag and forced my chin up. I thought about Mom. I thought about her heart beating. I thought about the signature on the paper.