Ava's POV

“I’m so sorry, Ava,” Dr. Ellis says, her voice soft but heavy, like she’s delivering a death sentence. “Your egg count is critically low. These numbers… they’re what I’d expect from someone in their mid-forties, not a woman of thirty.”

I stare at her, my hands twisting the strap of my purse. “What?” My voice is barely a whisper. I’ve been trying to get pregnant for years, tracking cycles, cutting caffeine, and praying every month. I’m only thirty. I should have time.

Dr. Ellis leans forward, her eyes kind but unyielding. “In terms of fertility, you’re on borrowed time. If you want a baby, you need to act before your next cycle.”

“My next cycle?” I echo, my throat tight. I’ve always wanted kids more than anything. It’s not everyone’s dream, but for me, it’s everything. A family. A little hand to hold. I can’t lose that.

I need to tell Jake. Now.

I race back to Brooklyn, my beat-up sedan weaving through traffic. Our apartment, well, Jake’s fancy condo, where I moved in two years ago looms ahead, all glass and steel. I burst through the door, ready to call for him, but I froze. A pair of red-soled stilettos and a designer clutch sit by the entryway. Not mine.

My stomach sinks like a stone, and my hearing strain. The headboard thuds rhythmically against the wall as moans flow from the bedroom. I know those sounds and worse, I know that clutch. It’s Lila’s, my best friend since college, who always bragged about her “connections” in Manhattan’s elite circles.

“God, Ava’s so naive,” Jake’s voice cuts through, sharp and cruel. “Can you believe she thinks I want a kid with her?”

Lila laughs, high and mean. “She’s pathetic. How’d you even deal with her this long?”

“She’s hot, that’s how,” Jake sneers. “But I wasn’t about to let her trap me with a baby. A little something in her morning smoothies took care of that.”

“Fertility meds?” Lila sounds impressed. “How’d you pull that off without her noticing?”

“Crushed them into her kale crap,” Jake says, chuckling. “She’s been drinking them for years. No way she’s getting pregnant on my watch.”

The world tilts. My vision blurs, not with tears but with rage. It all clicks, why I’ve never conceived, despite trying everything. Why does my body feel like it’s betraying me? Jake’s been poisoning my dreams, slipping drugs into my smoothies to keep me barren. My hands shake as I grab the fire alarm pulled on the wall. I don’t care if it’s petty, I want them to hurt.

The siren blares, and water sprays from the ceiling sprinklers, soaking the hardwood. Jake and Lila yelp, scrambling out of the bedroom in their underwear, hair dripping. Jake’s eyes widen when he sees me. “Ava? What the hell? Why’re you home early?”

I glare at him, my voice ice-cold. “Planning my birthday surprise, huh? With Lila? In our bed?”

His face pales, but he doubles down, the idiot. “Babe, it’s not what it looks like. Lila spilled wine on her dress, so we—”

“Save it,” I snap, grabbing my purse. I’m done. Done with his lies, his betrayal, done with wasting my life on him. I turn to Lila, who’s smirking like she’s won something. “You’re welcome to him.”

I storm out, ignoring Jake’s shouts. My heart’s pounding, but my mind’s clear. I can’t waste another second on him, not when my chance at motherhood is slipping away.

I hail a cab to Manhattan, heading for Sophie Reed, my rock since our days in foster care. She’s a fertility specialist now, working at the city’s most exclusive clinic, all glass and white marble in the heart of Midtown. I never went to her before because I thought Jake and I would figure it out naturally. What a fool I was.

When I reach her office, I collapse into her arms, the tears finally coming. Sophie holds me tight, stroking my hair as I spill everything: Dr. Ellis’s diagnosis, Jake’s betrayal, Lila’s cruelty. When I tell her about the smoothies, Sophie’s face darkens. “That bastard,” she hisses. “I’ll kill him.”

“I just want a baby, Soph,” I whisper, wiping my eyes. "I must do it correctly since this is my sole opportunity."

She took my hand and held it tightly, her voice brimming with resolve. "You can do this, Ava. Our donors are the best CEOs, athletes, you name it. We’ll find you the perfect one.”

She hesitates, glancing at the door, then leans in. “This stays between us, but even Liam Carver’s samples are here. You know, the billionaire? He had them tested after a health scare last year. Trusted us over every other clinic.”

“Liam Carver?” I blink, envisioning the man I've come across in magazines, dark hair, striking blue eyes, consistently dressed in a suit that exceeds my rent price. He frequently visits the park where I care for the children, constantly pausing to give the kids high-fives, yet his presence is so powerful it causes my skin to tingle. “His… samples?”

Sophie covers her mouth with her palm. "God, it was not the right thing to say. Ava, you can’t tell anyone. Confidentiality is everything here.”

“I won’t,” I promise, still reeling. Liam Carver’s sperm? In this clinic? It’s surreal, but I push it aside. I don’t need a billionaire’s DNA, just a healthy donor.

Sophie hands me a tablet with donor profiles, each one a snapshot of perfection doctors, entrepreneurs, even a Broadway star. I pick a pediatrician with kind eyes and a warm smile, someone who feels safe. Sophie steps out to prepare the sample, returning with a slightly frazzled look but a steady hand. She performs the insemination, holding my hand as the reality sinks in.

“All done,” she says softly. “Come back in ten days. We’ll see if it takes.”

Ten days. My heart races. Ten days to find out if I’m going to be a mother. What I don’t know what I couldn’t possibly know is that those ten days will tie my future to Liam Carver in ways I never imagined.