Gail’s face shined bright with the light coming from her laptop screen. The only sound in the room was the low hum of the fridge, but she didn't notice even that single sound. She was too focused on what she was reading on the Dowerhill Hospital surrogacy page, even though she had read through it three times already. In fact, she now knew every detail by heart.

Minimum age of twenty-one, check.

Must be in excellent physical health, check, she hadn’t been sick in years.

No smoking, drinking, or illegal drugs, easy, she hardly even drank coffee.

Background check required; now that was the first possible problem.

But she had nothing illegal in her past. “Just play it cool.” She said aloud to herself.

She would have to use her real name, to avoid any identity card issues. However, that should be fine since her surname was actually that of Aunt Catherine. Her father didn't even find her worthy to bear his name. The hospital would not be digging deep enough to find out that Gail was related to William's late wife. At least, Gail hoped so.

She sat back in her chair, tapping her fingernails lightly on the desk. This wasn’t just an idea anymore, it was a plan.

The application form was there in front of her, waiting. Name, age, contact details, questions about her medical history, her family background, her lifestyle habits. She needed to be careful not to lie blatantly, but to shape the truth into something that fit the picture of an ideal surrogate.

She finished the form, checking each section again before hitting the submit button. A confirmation screen popped up, thanking her for applying and explaining that the hospital’s surrogacy coordinator would contact her within two weeks if she met the initial requirements.

Two weeks.

The waiting would be the hardest part. She had already waited five years, but now that the door was open, every second felt too long.

Pulling her phone from her pocket, she opened her contacts and scrolled down to Sia’s name. She typed out a quick message: Thanks for coming over for dinner. You always know how to cheer me up.

It was true in a way. Sia had cheered her up tonight, just not for the reason her friend would ever guess.

It took less than two weeks for the hospital to reach out to her. In fact, on the sixth day, she received an email from the Dowerhill Hospital Surrogacy Program.

“Dear Ms Clinton,

We are pleased to inform you that you have passed the initial screening for our program. Please contact our office within the next five business days to schedule your medical and psychological evaluations.”

Her pulse jumped. It was happening. William Locke would never see her coming.

***

The hospital’s surrogacy office was nothing like Gail had imagined.

She’d expected something clinical and cold, sterile white walls, the sharp odour of disinfectant in the air. Instead, the small reception area was warmly lit, with potted plants in each corner and soft music humming from unseen speakers. The scent in the air was actually a nice one, soothing in a way that felt deliberate.

A receptionist with honey-blonde hair and a perfectly pressed blouse looked up from her desk as Gail stepped inside.

“Good morning. You must be Ms Clinton?”

“Yes,” Gail replied, her voice soft, almost shy. The part had to be perfect.

“Dr Fielding will be with you shortly. Please have a seat.”

Gail thanked her and crossed the room, choosing a chair that gave her a clear view of the hallway beyond the reception desk. Her heart was steady now, she had rehearsed this moment a dozen times in her head over the past week.

The role she was about to play wasn’t that different from the one she had lived most of her life: the unwanted child who smiled politely, said the right things, and kept her real thoughts to herself. But now, that role was a weapon.

A door opened, and a woman in her late forties appeared. She had warm brown skin, glasses perched low on her nose, and a calm, assessing gaze that seemed to take in everything at once.

“Ms Clinton? I’m Dr Fielding, come with me.”

They walked together down a short hallway into an office decorated with family photos and bookcases crammed with medical journals. Dr Fielding gestured toward the chair opposite her desk, for Gail to sit.

“So,” she began, “you’ve passed our initial screening. This stage is about getting to know you better: your medical history, your motivations, and whether this program is the right fit for both you and the intended parent.”

Intended parent. The words landed heavily in Gail’s ears. She knew who that parent was.

Dr Fielding glanced at her notes. “You’ve indicated no chronic illnesses, no history of mental health conditions. That’s good. And you’re twenty-one, correct?”

“Yes,” Gail said with a polite nod.

“May I ask what brought you to consider surrogacy at this stage in your life?”

Here it was, the first real test.

Gail folded her hands in her lap, letting her shoulders relax. “I suppose it’s a mix of things. I’ve always wanted to do something meaningful, something that would genuinely change someone’s life. I don’t come from a big family, but I know how important family is to people. If I can help give that to someone, why shouldn’t I?”

It was just the right balance, personal without oversharing, warm without being overly sentimental.

Dr Fielding nodded slowly, jotting something down. “And you understand that surrogacy is a big commitment, both emotionally and physically? That the child will not be yours to raise?”

“Yes.” Gail kept her voice steady, though she felt a slight twist in her gut. “I’m here to help someone else’s dream come true.”

‘Lies upon lies,’ she thought silently. ‘But you’ll believe me. Everyone will.’

They went through her medical history in detail, with Dr Fielding occasionally asking follow-up questions. Gail answered each one calmly, weaving her story carefully.

Finally, the doctor leaned back. “The intended parent is a private individual. If you move forward, you’ll meet him before we finalize anything, to ensure both parties are comfortable. I can’t give you too many details yet, but I can tell you he is a successful entrepreneur and takes this process very seriously.”

Gail forced herself not to react. Her stomach gave a sharp flip, but outwardly she only tilted her head with polite curiosity.

“I understand,” she said.

“Good.” Dr Fielding stood, signalling the end of their meeting. “We’ll schedule your medical exams for next week. If all goes well, we’ll arrange the introduction.”

Gail shook her hand, thanked her, and walked confidently out of the office.

It was when she got to the parking lot, the cool morning air brushing against her cheeks, that she allowed herself to breathe deeply.

***

The next week passed in a blur of hospital corridors, vials of blood, and clinical smiles.

Gail endured it all. The awkward ultrasound gel, the endless health questionnaires, even the nutrition talk that was delivered like she was a child. She took it all with the calm patience of someone totally devoted to ‘helping a family.’

By the end of the week, Dr Fielding called her personally. “All your tests came back perfect, Ms Clinton. The intended parent has been informed. He has agreed to meet you tomorrow morning.”

The words sent a sharp, electric jolt through Gail’s chest.