Chapter 2: Moving into the Mansion
Three days later – Sterling Clinic Hospital
The pristine white hospital room welcomed the morning sunlight streaming through the curtains, creating a space that felt both pure and delicately unsettling. Anna lay on the bed, already dressed in her patient gown. She clenched her hands together, knuckles pale from tension.
The door opened, and a nurse entered with a gentle smile.
“Miss Anna, we’ll begin in just a few minutes. Please try not to be too nervous.”
In another room, Leon Sterling stood with arms crossed, watching silently through a small monitor. In his eyes, this was merely a necessary procedure — a step written in the contract between them. Yet his gaze lingered on Anna’s face longer than it should have — perhaps out of curiosity... or simply to ensure that everything proceeded as planned.
The doctor entered and said in a calm voice, “We’ll use a soft catheter to insert the embryo into the uterus. The procedure will be quick and painless, but we need you to relax completely.”
Anna nodded, her throat dry. She took a deep breath, letting her worries dissolve into the steady hum of the medical equipment nearby.
The thin catheter was inserted gently into her body. The entire procedure lasted less than ten minutes, yet in that moment, time seemed to stretch endlessly for Anna.
“All done,” the doctor said. “Please remain lying down for at least fifteen minutes. If everything looks fine, you may go home today.”
Anna exhaled in relief. A seed of life had just been placed inside her — whether it would grow or not, she didn’t know. But either way, she was embarking on a journey she couldn’t yet foresee.
She stared up at the ceiling, her gaze distant.
No one in the room knew that inside her, along with the newly implanted embryo… a fragile emotion was quietly taking root.
Leon entered the room.
“This is the critical phase. You must rest completely for the first two weeks. If it succeeds, my child will grow in your body,” he said, his tone cold and proud.
She nodded softly.
An hour later – Light Recovery Room, Sterling Care Hospital
The air conditioner hummed steadily. The pale white space was diluted further by the soft glow of overhead lights. She lay on her left side as instructed, eyes wide open, staring at the opposite wall. Empty. No one asked how she felt. No hand reached out for hers. Only nurses walked in and out on schedule, checking her temperature and pulse, reading the monitor with indifferent eyes.
Leon stood afar — not beside her, not even close. He leaned against the wall, arms crossed, quietly checking his phone, as though waiting for a meeting to end rather than for a milestone — the beginning of a new life.
“Stable condition,” the doctor concluded after the examination. “The embryo has been transferred into the uterine cavity via soft catheter. The endometrial lining looks good, high implantation probability. She can rest at home but must avoid any strenuous activity for the next few days.”
Leon gave a slight nod — a gesture that carried no excess emotion.
She slowly sat up. Still, no one helped her. A dull pain in her lower abdomen radiated down to her back, but she said nothing. She just inhaled quietly and set her feet on the cold floor.
A sleek black car was already waiting at the VIP exit. The driver opened the door. Leon got in first, sitting on one side. She followed, keeping a polite distance, her eyes turned toward the rain-fogged window.
“Take us to the villa,” Leon said curtly, not even glancing her way.
She nodded faintly, without a word.
The long ride passed in silence. Only the wind seeping through the door cracks and soft instrumental music from the radio lingered between the two people bound by an unspoken deal.
She leaned her head against the window and closed her eyes.
Perhaps, inside her at that moment… a life had just begun.
But between them — there was still nothing.
The car moved slowly, gliding through golden sun-drenched streets. Before long, they arrived at the gates of the villa.
The Sterling estate lay quietly among the woods on the outskirts of the city, surrounded by towering elm trees and perfectly trimmed lawns where not even a single leaf was out of place. It didn’t resemble a home — more like a fortress where someone hid an entire world.
The young woman stepped out, her slender frame subtly protecting her abdomen as though guarding the new life that had not yet taken form.
No one in the grand villa welcomed her, except Klair — the housekeeper. The older woman gave a slight bow, more ceremonial than heartfelt.
Klair led Anna to a room at the far end of the second-floor hallway — far from Leon’s quarters. The room was bathed in soft beige tones, scented faintly with new fabric and dried lavender. In the corner stood a recliner by the window, where the afternoon sun poured in silently. It wasn’t cold, but it wasn’t warm either.
To Anna, moving in wasn’t a new beginning — it felt like becoming a pawn, a container. A role more painful than any other: a surrogate.
That night, Anna stayed quietly in her room.
While unpacking her suitcase, she accidentally discovered a small photo deep within the cabinet’s corner. Though old and dusty, the image remained clear.
It was Leon in the photo.
Leon — several years younger, his hair slightly tousled, his usual sternness replaced with softness. He sat on a sofa, gazing tenderly at the woman beside him — a visibly pregnant woman with sparkling eyes and a joyful smile, her hand resting lovingly on her belly.
Leon had his hand placed gently over hers.
In the corner of the photo, written in brown ink, were the words: “If one day Mommy is no longer here, this picture will be the place where you’ll see her smile for the last time.”
Anna froze slightly.
Her hand trembled.
The room suddenly felt too wide, too cold. Her heart ached — not from jealousy, but something deeper: unease.
She had read the contract thoroughly. Nowhere did it mention why Leon wanted a child. She had never asked. Never thought to ask.
But now, staring at the uncertain look in that old photograph, a series of questions quietly crept into her heart:
Had he once had a family?
Where had that woman gone?
Did that child still exist?
And — if so — who was she in this house?
The questions whispeedr in her mind, persistent and quiet. And naturally, she couldn't sleep that night.