Chapter 3 Surrogate Mother

A couple of days later, Terry, Stevenson's grandson, showed up before his grandfather. The old man had summoned him to discuss an important matter.

"I'm glad you came, Terry, I have something very serious to discuss with you."

Terry frowned, he knew his grandfather's machinations all too well. They rarely came up with anything good.

"Well, here I am," Terry replied. "I hope it's important."

Stevenson fixed his piercing gaze on his grandson.

"I need you to contribute your genetic code," the old man blurted out.

Terry blinked several times, trying to process what he had just heard. "My what?" "What the hell are you talking about, Grandfather?"

The old man sighed impatiently, as if he were dealing with a particularly slow child.

"I need you to donate your sperm to sire an heir who will carry our blood," Stevenson explained, not sugarcoating his words.

Terry felt himself gasping for air, his mind refusing to process what he had just heard.

"You are completely insane!" he exclaimed. "I will not participate in this madness! Have you completely lost your mind?"

"Calm down and sit down!" Stevenson ordered, slamming his fist on the desk. "This is not a request, it's an order! Don't you dare defy me, boy."

Terry clenched his jaw, feeling anger and indignation wash over him.

"I am an old man, Terry, my end is near," Stevenson continued, moderating his tone slightly. "But my empire cannot be left in the wrong hands. You are my only hope for a true heir, someone who can continue my legacy and maintain our family's power."

Terry snorted, disbelief giving way to a mix of disgust and revulsion.

"And why don't you ask your son?" he asked sarcastically. "Or is my father not good enough for your precious legacy?"

"Your father is a useless drunk," the old man growled. "He's wasted every chance I've given him. You are my only option, the last hope to preserve everything I've built."

Terry shook his head, disgusted by the whole situation.

"I won't, Grandpa," he stated firmly. "I will not lend my body to your twisted experiments. Find someone else for your power plays."

Stevenson rolled his eyes, a cruel smile appearing on his wrinkled lips.

"Very well, if that is your final decision," he said in an icy voice, "I will be forced to withdraw your status as sole heir and name your cousin Nathan as my successor."

Terry paled; Nathan was an unscrupulous spender, capable of selling out his own mother for a handful of dollars. If he inherited the Stevenson empire, everything Terry had worked for would go down the drain in a matter of months.

He clenched his fists so tightly that his knuckles turned white. He felt trapped, furious at being between a rock and a hard place.

"Fine, I will," he finally said, feeling the words burn his throat. "But on one condition: I want it done in the most clinical and impersonal way possible, I don't want to know anything beyond what is strictly necessary."

Stevenson smiled crookedly, triumph shining in his sunken eyes. He had won, as he always did, no matter the cost to those around him.

"Very well," the old man nodded. "You'll be expected at the clinic first thing tomorrow morning. Don't let me down, Terry."

The next day, his stomach churning with anxiety and embarrassment, Terry arrived at the private clinic. A nurse greeted him at the reception desk and led him to a small private room.

"You can deposit your sample here, sir," the nurse said with a flirtatious smile that Terry thought was out of place. She handed him a small glass container. "If you need anything, don't hesitate to call me."

Terry bit back a protest, nodding stiffly. He felt humiliated, reduced to nothing more than a donor in his grandfather's twisted scheme.

Meanwhile, elsewhere, Amelia was huddled in a corner of her room, when suddenly, the door opened, and a doctor walked in carrying a briefcase. Amelia shrank even further, trying to make herself invisible, but she knew it was useless.

"Miss Roberts," the doctor said in a voice that was meant to be calm, "I need you to relax, I'm going to perform some routine medical checks on you."

Amelia nodded silently, trembling as she meekly submitted to the tests.

Blood samples were taken and an abdominal ultrasound was performed. Amelia kept her eyes closed throughout the procedure, wishing she was anywhere else.

"Everything seems to be in order," the doctor muttered, more to himself than to Amelia. "I'll be back in a couple of days with the final results."

Two days later, just as promised, the doctor returned.

"Miss Roberts," the man said, avoiding looking her in the eye, "I have completed all the relevant tests and can confirm that you are in enviable health. There is no contraindication to you being able to... safely conceive a child."

"I cannot do this," she stammered through tears. "Please do not force me into this..."

The doctor looked away, clearly uncomfortable with the young woman's suffering.

"I am very sorry for your situation, but those are not my orders."

A few hours later, two nurses dragged a sterile chamber into her room, then began to remove medical instruments.

"Please, miss," one of them said in a monotone voice, "we need you to lie down on the table. We are going to proceed with artificial insemination."

Amelia's face turned livid, for a moment she thought of resisting, of fighting tooth and nail against this cruel fate.

But the cold gaze of the women told her it would be useless, that there was no escape from this horror.

Resigned, she lay back on the cold table, squeezing her eyes shut, wishing it was all a nightmare from which she would soon wake up.

When it was over, she lay still, staring blankly at the ceiling. The tears had stopped falling, replaced by a void that threatened to consume her completely.

Two weeks later, the doctor returned, his expression serious.

"Miss Roberts..." he said, clearing his throat, "I regret to inform you that the preliminary tests were negative, you have not yet conceived."

Amelia's momentary relief soon gave way to a new wave of terror as she realized she would have to go through it all again.

This time, instead of letting herself be led meekly, Amelia clung to the back of an armchair, refusing to move.

She screamed out her pleadings and desperation at the top of her lungs, and the two burly guards came to subdue her by force, immobilizing her while one of them gave her an injection that plunged her into unconsciousness.

Several weeks passed, and one day, the doctor came again and, after examining her, uttered the words that sealed Amelia's sad fate:

"Congratulations, Miss Roberts... You are officially pregnant."

Amelia couldn't believe it. She put her hands on her still flat belly, feeling a mix of conflicting emotions.

"My little one…" she whispered in a shaky voice, a tear rolling down her cheek. "No matter what happens, I will love and care for you no matter what."

Days turned into weeks and then months, time passing slowly for Amelia, as her belly swelled more and more.

Despite her reality, the young woman couldn't help but feel a warm emotion every time she felt her baby's little kicks.

"Mommy loves you, little one," she whispered with a sad smile. "I would do anything to protect you, my boy…"

One afternoon, Amelia woke up startled, the door abruptly opened. Two nurses entered pushing a stretcher covered in medical instruments.

"What are you doing?" Amelia stammered, sitting up with difficulty. "There are still days until my baby is born!"

The nurses didn't even look at her, one of them approached with a huge syringe.

"Hey! Answer already!" Amelia screamed, panic growing inside her. "You can't just...!"

She didn't manage to finish her sentence, the woman stuck the needle in her, and a powerful sedative began to run through her veins.

Minutes later, Amelia regained consciousness in an operating room, she was on a stretcher, with her huge belly exposed.

“What… what is going on?” she stammered in terror. “My baby…! What have they done to my baby?”

“Calm down, Miss Roberts,” a nurse replied in a nonchalant tone. “It’s just a C-section.”

Amelia turned livid as she realized what was happening. She wanted to scream, to move, to escape, but her body would not respond to her commands.

The medical staff rushed in, a surgeon stood at the foot of the stretcher and, with a practical movement, cut Amelia's belly without the slightest consideration.

"AAAAAAHH!" the young woman howled despite the sedative.

Amelia cried, while she struggled to stay conscious.

"My baby...!" she managed to moan, her voice barely audible. "Give me my baby!"

Suddenly, a loud, sharp cry filled the room, it was the unmistakable cry of a newborn.

Amelia raised her head and saw a small baby covered in blood that was hastily wrapped in white blankets.