The next morning.
There was a knock on the door.
Jan walked in, carrying a bunch of fresh white lisianthus. He was wearing a white shirt and metal-rimmed glasses.
Mrs. Hayes was awakened by the noise. She looked at Jan, her eyes narrowing with immediate approval.
“Mrs. Hayes, how are you feeling today?” Jan asked, his tone warm and steady.
Elle watched him adjust his glasses. Her tense shoulders relaxed slightly.
“Much better, knowing you’ve taken care of my Elle,” Mrs. Hayes said, her voice hoarse.
Jan smiled. "The prenuptial agreement is ready for us to review, just as we discussed."
Mrs. Hayes nodded weakly. “Good. Very practical.”
Elle grabbed the heavy canvas bag by the strap. Jan immediately reached out and took her weight. This simple gesture brought a strange lump to Elle's throat.
The two walked out of the room together. Jan led them to the hospital entrance.
"Let's get out of the wind here," Jan said. "I'll go get the car."
Mrs. Hayes leaned heavily on Elle's arm. "He's a reliable man, Elle. You've done a good job."
Elle smiled, her facial muscles aching. "I know, Mom."
A dark gray, older-model Volvo was parked on the side of the road. Jan got out, opened the back door, and shielded Mrs. Hayes' head with his hand as she slid into the back seat.
Elle opened the passenger door and got in. She pulled on her seatbelt and fastened it. The car merged into the congested traffic, crossed the bridge, and moved away from Manhattan's towering glass buildings into Brooklyn's rougher streets.
Jan parked his car in front of a weathered brick apartment building. Ignoring the cracked sidewalks and the smell of damp garbage, he carried his heavy bag up three narrow flights of stairs.
They settled Mrs. Hayes into the small, dimly lit bedroom. Elle quietly closed the door. She went into the cramped kitchen, the linoleum floor sticky under her shoes.
She poured two glasses of tap water and placed them on the scratched Formica countertop. Jan opened his leather briefcase and took out a thick stack of stapled documents.
Elle pushed the glass of water toward him. She picked up the contract. She flipped through the pages, her eyes sweeping over the bolded legal clauses. Complete financial independence. No marital obligations. No interference in personal affairs.
A deep sense of security washed over her.
“My family is launching a massive internal audit next month,” Jan said in a low voice. He took a sip of water. “I need this marriage certificate to prove my stability. Jesse and I will soon have a child through surrogacy. If my family finds out about him, they will cut off my funding and take the child away.”
Elle looked up from the documents. She understood the fear of losing her child to a powerful family. She picked up a cheap plastic pen from the table and signed her name on the dotted line.
Jan picked up the pen and signed his name next to hers. He put the documents away and slid them back into his briefcase.
“My mother is looking forward to us having dinner together this Friday,” Jan said. “It’s just a formality.”
“I’ll be ready,” Elle said.
Jan walked toward the front door. Elle followed behind him. She listened to his footsteps echoing in the stairwell until the entire building fell silent again.
Elle leaned against the peeling paint on the front door. She slid her hand down to her flat stomach and slowly drew circles with her thumb.
Her phone vibrated violently on the kitchen counter. Elle went over and picked it up. It was a text message from Ms. Foster, Cyrus's executive assistant.
The Legal Department needs your final handover documents signed by tomorrow morning. Please do not delay.
Elle gritted her teeth. She quickly replied to the confirmation message and tossed her phone onto the sofa.
She entered the cramped bathroom. She turned on the cold tap, cupped her hands, and splashed the icy water on her pale face. The cold shock brought her back to her senses.
She came out and glanced into the bedroom. Mrs. Hayes was leaning against a few thin pillows.
"Has Jan left?" her mother asked.
Elle sat on the edge of the mattress, pulling the faded blanket to her mother's chest. "Yes. Everything's alright. We'll be fine."
Mrs. Hayes closed her eyes, a calm expression on her face. Elle backed out of the room.
She sat on the uneven sofa in the living room and opened her old, overheated laptop. She typed "affordable prenatal clinics in Brooklyn" into the search bar.
Before the loading screen even finished, a banner ad popped up. It was a Bloomberg financial headline. Cyrus's sharp, unsmiling face stared back at her from the screen.
Elle slammed her laptop shut. Her heart pounded in her ribs. She walked to the living room window and gazed down at the dimly lit, garbage-strewn street. She hugged herself tightly and vowed to build a fortress for her baby.
As the sun finally set, Elle curled up on the sofa, letting exhaustion drag her into a restless sleep.
