Chapter 46 46.
Chapter 46 46.
Chapter 46: Ashley’s POV
Lying on my bed, staring up at the ceiling, I’m struck by just how fast everything changed the moment I became pregnant. It feels like only yesterday my life was something completely different—light, uncomplicated, mine.
I remember exactly how it all began. Back then, I was barely keeping my head above water. Bills piling up, savings dwindling, feeling like I was sinking fast.
That was when Simone reached out. She offered me a blank check, a way out of my financial ruin, in exchange for something far more personal—to be her egg donor and surrogate, carrying the child she and Nash had always dreamed of but could never have on their own.
It was a huge decision, one I didn’t take lightly. But the IVF worked, and here I am now—months away from bringing their baby into the world. And along the way, Simone’s health took a turn—her cancer treatments meant she had to go to Switzerland, leaving me here in Manila, navigating this pregnancy mostly on my own, aside from the unexpected people who have stepped in.
Sometimes, when I’m quiet like this, I try to remember what my old life was even like.
Late nights out with friends.
Spontaneous trips.
Working long hours just for the thrill of it.
No one depending on me, no extra weight to carry—literally and figuratively.
It feels like a lifetime ago, almost like a dream I’m starting to forget the details of.
I run a gentle hand over my stomach, feeling the faint, familiar pressure of the baby growing inside me.
There’s a warmth there, a quiet sense of purpose I never knew I needed, but I also hold onto that old part of me fiercely.
I make a silent promise to myself, right then and there. Once I give birth, once this chapter closes and I hand their baby safely into Simone and Nash’s arms… the old Ashley will be back.
The one who answers only to herself, who makes her own choices, who doesn’t have billionaires or doctors or high society breathing down her neck.
Or at least, that’s what I tell myself.
But as I close my eyes, my mind drifts unbidden to the man who was sitting in the garden just hours earlier. To Marcus—his sharp suits, his quiet concern, the way he remembers the smallest details, the way he looks at me like I’m not just some temporary arrangement or a business associate.
I shake my head firmly, pushing the thought away.
No.
This is temporary.
Once the baby is born, everything goes back to normal. No more Marcus Bryson complicating things.
Just me.
To be sarcastic again.
Free to live my life again.
My phone buzzes softly on the nightstand, pulling me from my thoughts. I reach over and pick it up, frowning slightly when I see the name on the screen.
Marcus: I’ve confirmed the appointment time. My driver will pick you up at 8:00 AM sharp. Wear comfortable shoes.
I stare at the message for a long moment, then huff a quiet laugh, shaking my head. Of course he would send a text like that—efficient, direct, leaving no room for argument.
I type back quickly: I know how to get to the clinic, Marcus. And I can wear whatever I want.
His reply comes almost instantly.
Marcus: Comfortable is better. See you then.
I set the phone down, rolling my eyes even as a small, involuntary smile tugs at my lips. Temporary, I remind myself again. Just until the baby is born.
But deep down, a tiny, stubborn voice whispers: Maybe things won’t be as simple as you think.
The next week arrived far too quickly.
At exactly 7:55 AM, my phone lit up with a single text from Marcus: We are downstairs.
"Of course you are," I muttered to the empty bedroom, dragging myself out of bed.
True to my text from the night before, I deliberately avoided anything that could be classified as "sensible." I chose a flowing, emerald-green maternity sundress that fell past my knees and a pair of strappy, low-heeled sandals.
They weren't skyscraper stilettos, but they certainly weren't the sneakers Marcus had practically mandated.
When I stepped out of the lobby doors into the crisp morning air, the sleek black Bryson sedan was already idling at the curb.
The rear door was held open not by his chauffeur, but by Marcus himself.
He was leaning against the frame, looking effortlessly put together in a tailored navy suit with an open-collared white shirt.
No tie.
A bit more casual for him, but still sharp enough to make my stomach do a nervous, completely unnecessary flip.
His dark eyes swept over me as I approached, lingering for a fraction of a second on my feet.
"Good morning, Ashley," he said, his voice a low, smooth rumble that instantly woke up my sleepy brain. He offered a hand to help me into the car. "I see you completely ignored my recommendation regarding footwear."
"Good morning to you too, Marcus," I replied, deliberately bypassing his hand and sliding into the plush leather seat on my own. "And I didn't ignore it. I evaluated it and determined my current options were aesthetically superior."
Marcus closed the door behind me and slid into the seat next to me, the scent of cedarwood and expensive cologne immediately filling the tight space. The car pulled away from the curb smoothly.
"Aesthetically superior," he repeated dryly, a microscopic smirk touching the corner of his lips as he glanced down at my sandals. "We'll see how your aesthetic holds up if the clinic elevator is undergoing maintenance."
"If the elevator is broken, you can carry me. Consider it part of your asset protection strategy," I shot back without thinking.
The moment the words left my mouth, I wanted to swallow them whole.
Marcus turned his head to look at me, his gaze suddenly shifting from amused to intensely deliberate. The silence in the back seat grew heavy, thick with a strange, sudden tension that made the humid Manila traffic outside feel miles away.
"If it comes to that," he said quietly, his eyes locking onto mine with a steady, fierce weight, "I will."
My breath hitched. I immediately looked out the window, my face burning as I desperately tried to find my missing composure.
Get a grip, Ashley, I scolded myself. He’s just being stubborn. He’s just playing the overprotective guardian because he thinks you’re alone.