“So it's true.”

Gail gave a little yelp, and jumped in shock as the figure appeared from behind her. Mr Locke's driver had just dropped her off, and she was still watching the car going down the lane, when the voice came.

“Derek! Are you trying to give me a heart attack?” she pressed a calming palm down on her chest as she spoke.

He didn’t smile, or flinch. “Is it true?” This time it was a query.

The question hung in the heavy air between them. His tone wasn’t curious like he really wanted to know, instead it was rough and raw like he already knew the answer but needed to hear it from her.

“Is what true?” she asked cautiously, choosing to adjust the strap of her bag instead of looking at his face.

“Drop the act, Gail, it doesn't suit you. Did you really sign up to become William Locke’s surrogate?” Derek asked bluntly.

Gail’s breath caught in her throat, though she tried not to show it. “Sia talks too much,” she muttered.

Truth was, she had not been bold enough to tell her friend herself, even knowing that she would find out since she worked at the hospital. As for Derek, she had not let herself ponder on how to juggle her revenge and her relationship, but now the moment was forcing itself.

“Then it’s true.” His voice dropped at the confirmation, but the volume of the hurt it carried was very much loud, louder even than the anger.

She took a step closer, trying to reach out and hold him, but he straightened and stepped back, as if the distance between them was the only thing keeping him together.

“Derek, it’s… complicated.” she finally said.

“Complicated?” His laugh was sharp but hollow. “We’ve been together for how long now, two years, Gail. And you just up and volunteer to carry another man's baby, someone totally unrelated to you. Or is there something I'm missing? You didn’t even think I deserved to know about your plans?”

The word ‘baby’ lodged in her chest like a splinter. It did sound unreasonable when he put it that way.

“This isn’t something you would understand,” she said with a stony face.

He raked a hand through his hair, it was a common gesture he always did when trying to maintain control of himself. He demanded, “Then make me understand. Tell me it’s for some noble reason, or that you’re doing it for a friend. Tell me something that doesn’t make me feel like I’ve been played for a fool.”

Gail bit down on the inside of her cheek. She could actually tell him the truth, about her sister, about her watery death, about the debt of blood she had to repay.

No. The truth was a heavy chain. Putting that on Derek could mean dragging him down with her wherever she fell.

“It’s not your business.” she said quietly.

He squinted up at her in surprise. “How could it not be my business? You’re my girlfriend, Gail. Everything about you is my business. Unless…” He exhaled slowly, almost like the thought weighed him down. “Unless I’m not really a part of your life the way I thought I was.”

She couldn’t look at him. Instead she watched the worn cracks in the pavement, tracing their jagged paths with her eyes like they could lead her away from this moment.

Then she looked around uncomfortably. “Derek, can we continue this inside?”

Her request went unanswered.

Rather Derek pressed on, “Is it about the money? Is Locke paying you more than the cost of our years together, the cost of what we shared, enough to walk away from us without a second thought?”

“You don't get it, it’s not about money!” she snapped.

“You’re right, Gail, I don't get it. So tell me what the hell it is about!” His voice also rose, drawing the curious glance of a neighbor stepping in with groceries. He dropped his volume but not the force. “Are you in love with him?”

Her stomach rolled in disgust at the thought. “Hell no.”

“Then why, Gail?” His voice cracked now, the anger giving way to something far more vulnerable. “Why would you do something like this and why would you keep it from me?”

She swallowed hard. “Because it’s mine to do.” She was the only one who could avenge Maxine's untimely death. She was the only one who cared enough to do so.

“What the heck do you even mean by that? It's not an answer.”

“It’s the only one I can give you!”

“Don't do this, Gail.” Derek's voice was dangerously low, half pleading, half threatening. “If you do this, there's no coming back from it. And no way forward for us.”

Gail choked on her own saliva as she struggled to speak. “I'm sorry, Derek.” That's all she was able to say.

The silence that followed was worse than the shouting. Derek’s gaze searched her face as if the explanation might be written there in a language he could interpret if he stared long enough. Or hard enough.

But at the end, he stepped back, there was a resignation in his posture that was both subtle and final. “You know, I really thought we were building something. I thought we had a future. But I guess whatever this is…” He gestured vaguely, as if the air itself carried her betrayal. “it’s bigger than us.”

She wanted to tell him ‘yes, it is’. Not because she didn’t care, but because she cared enough to keep him away from a storm that could sweep him away. This was her fight and no one else's.

Instead she stayed silent.

“I don’t know who you are anymore,” Derek said at last, shaking his head slowly. “Maybe I never did.” He turned and walked away.

She didn’t call him back.

When he disappeared around the corner, Gail finally let herself breathe. And with the breath came the sting of tears that she refused to wipe away. She climbed the steps to her apartment, her chest so tight that it hurt.

Inside, she dropped her bag and sank down on the couch, staring at the wall without really seeing it. Just like that, Derek was gone. How much more would she have to sacrifice on this mission she was going on?

Her phone buzzed. She glanced at the screen, it was an unknown number. She almost ignored it, but she needed the distraction.

“Gail Clinton?” The voice was deep, calm, and unmistakably William Locke’s.

Her heart skipped. “Yes?”

“The car will come for you at ten tomorrow,” he said. “Be packed and ready.”

Click. No goodbye, no nothing. She wiped the tears furiously from her cheeks. No way was she carrying the cold bastard's child. She recited the plan out loud, to remind herself of her goal:

“One, submit to the surrogacy to find a way into his guarded life. Two, get my hands on every single information and opportunity that can serve as a weapon to destroy him. Three, wreck his company and render him useless. Four, abort the pregnancy.”