Lucas had barely stepped into his office when he felt it—something was wrong.
The tension had been brewing ever since Amalia stopped answering his calls. She'd avoided the Montenegro mansion for two days, refusing his mother's dinners, his cousins' check-ins, and his own attempts to bring her back home.
He thought it was just the aftermath of their fight.
But then she came.
Amalia showed up unannounced in his office at the Aguas company headquarters. She looked tired, eyes shadowed with grief and something he couldn't quite name.
"Close the door," she said softly.
Lucas did.
She didn't sit. She stood there, hands trembling slightly, and said the words like they were a confession:
"I found someone."
Lucas's brow creased. "Someone for what?"
"For the surrogacy," she whispered.
The air in the room turned to stone.
"What?"
"She's healthy. She's young. Lucas, I met her by chance—fate, maybe—and she was the answer. I did it. Your mother approved."
Lucas stepped back, running a hand over his jaw. "You went behind my back? You made that kind of decision without me?"
"You said no," Amalia said, tears welling. "And I was drowning. I am drowning. Everyone keeps talking about what's best for the family, what makes sense. But no one's asking what I need."
Lucas stared at her, his voice dangerously calm. "And what exactly did you agree to?"
"She'll carry the baby. She agreed to it," she said, then corrected herself quietly. "She didn't say no. And we've already transferred the money."
Lucas looked away, breathing hard. "You bribe her with money."
"I gave her a choice," Amalia said defensively. "She chose this. And now I have a chance too."
Lucas turned back, eyes sharp. "You don't even know her."
"I don't have to," she said through clenched teeth. "I just have to know she's capable. I saw the way she broke when she thought she'd lost everything. She'll do it. She's stronger than me."
Lucas exhaled, long and slow. "Where is she from? Her name? family background?"
Amalia looked away. "She… didn't say. I didn't ask."
Lucas stared at her like she was a stranger. "And you want me to go along with this? Sign off on this deal with someone I've never even met?"
She stepped closer, placing a trembling hand on his chest.
"I know you're angry," she whispered. "I know this wasn't the plan. But if you say no now… I won't survive it, Lucas. I won't. I need to believe I can still be a mother. That we can still have a future."
Tears slipped down her cheeks.
Lucas looked at her—this woman he had loved, fought for, and sacrificed with.
And in that moment, he didn't see manipulation. He saw pain. Raw, human pain.
He sighed heavily.
"Fine," he said.
She looked up, stunned.
"I'll go along with it for you. Let me know the moment the doctor's appointment is scheduled. I will be there."
Amalia nodded quickly, swallowing her relief. "Okay. I love you."
Lucas turned away, jaw tight. His gut screamed that something was off—deeply off but for now, he had no name, no face, just the agreement and a future wrapped in silence.
He didn't know yet…
That the woman who would carry his child was Luna.
And fate was just getting started.
The city was just waking as Luna stepped out of the hospital cab, her heart pounding beneath her blouse.
She hadn't slept the night before.
Everything still felt surreal—like she was moving through someone else's life. A few days ago, she was sleeping in a dusty vineyard room after a long day's work. Now, she was walking into a private clinic—too clean, too cold—with the weight of someone else's dream pressed into her womb.
Mrs. Montenegro, Amalia, and Lucas were already there when she arrived, though Luna was ushered in through a side entrance by a woman in white who said nothing and smiled too little.
"Just follow me," she'd said.
Luna nodded, clutching her worn purse tighter.
The doctor was kind. Her name was Dr. Lydia Mensah, a respected fertility specialist. She had known the Montenegro family for over fifteen years—delivered Lucas's cousins herself. When Mrs. Montenegro asked for her silence, she hesitated. But power and loyalty ran deep in Agauzu, and the Montenegros were the roots.
"No one else can know," the matriarch had said firmly after the tests. "Not my son. Not even Amalia."
Dr. Lydia had stood with the file in hand, eyes on the results.
Amalia's eggs were damaged beyond use. There was no viable path to conception with her.
And yet… the procedure would continue.
"We'll use Luna's," Mrs. Montenegro had said, coolly. "Tell Amalia the results are good. Print new charts. She won't know."
Amalia believed her joy was real. She hugged the forged papers like they were her child. Lucas stood beside her, forcing a smile. But his eyes flicked toward the closed doors too often.
"When do I meet the surrogate?" he asked.
Mrs. Montenegro put a hand on his shoulder, calming, calculated. "Not yet. Not until everything is stable. You'll meet her when it's time to thank her, with your son in your arms."
Lucas's jaw tightened, but he nodded. "Alright. I'll trust you."
He left soon after, his phone buzzing with company calls he couldn't ignore.
Only then did they call Luna into the room.