Chapter 50 50.
Chapter 50 50.
Chapter 50: Ashley’s POV
I couldn't stay at Orwell Manor a minute longer.
The overwhelming joy in Simone’s eyes and the heavy, protective silence of Nash were too much to handle while my own chest felt like a pressure cooker.
I needed my own space, my own walls, and someone who didn't look at my stomach as the future of a corporate dynasty.
So, I escaped back to my apartment.
The moment I locked the front door behind me, I kicked off those miserable strappy sandals, sank onto my worn-out sofa, and immediately called Mia.
"Get over here right now," I pleaded into the receiver. "I'll buy the pizza. Just please, bring your brain, because mine is completely broken."
An hour later, the living room smelled like garlic crust and desperation.
Mia sat cross-legged on the floor, a slice of pepperoni halfway to her mouth, her eyes practically bulging out of her head as I finished recounting the disaster that had taken place at the medical center.
Mia already knew everything about the surrogacy—she was the first one outside of the Orwell family who did—so there was absolutely nothing to lose by telling her about Edward Bryson’s dramatic elevator arrival.
But as I reached the part where Marcus told me to just let his grandfather believe the lie, I realized I had made a massive, catastrophic mistake.
Mia didn't look horrified.
She didn't look worried.
In fact, the absolute reality of the situation seemed to thrill her to her very core.
"Oh my god," Mia gasped, slamming her pizza back into the box, her face lighting up with pure, unadulterated excitement. "Ashley! Do you have any idea what this means? Marcus Bryson—the billionaire, untouchable, emotionless Marcus Bryson—is using you as a fake baby mama to get his family off his back?!"
"Mia, stop it! This isn't a romantic comedy!" I groaned, burying my face in a throw pillow. "It's a nightmare. Edward Bryson is probably restructuring the family trust as we speak. He thinks a Bryson heir is coming!"
"Exactly! And that is a huge deal!" Mia scrambled up onto the couch, grabbing my shoulders to force me to look at her. "Ashley, think about it. You've been so focused on the IVF secret and your promise to Simone and Nash that you’re completely blind to what's about to happen next."
I frowned, a cold trickle of dread beginning to seep into my stomach. "What do you mean?"
"I mean, Edward Bryson isn't a quiet man. He’s high society royalty," Mia explained, her tone shifting from fangirl excitement to dead-serious reality. "If he thinks you are carrying his grandson's firstborn child, he is not going to keep it a secret. It doesn't matter what Marcus told you in that elevator about a 'temporary setup.' The minute Edward Bryson leaves that hospital, the gears start turning."
She let go of my shoulders and leaned back, giving me a sobering look that instantly made the room feel twenty degrees colder.
"The world is about to see you as a Bryson woman, Ashley. Think about what that actually means."
The pillow slipped from my hands.
Mia’s words hit me like a physical blow, stripping away the lingering confusion I had felt in the parking lot with Marcus and replacing it with absolute, terrifying clarity.
Up until now, I had just been Ashley Martin—a temporary corporate representative, a woman quietly navigating a private surrogacy.
I could hide in the background.
I could disappear back into anonymity the second I handed the baby to Simone and Nash.
But a "Bryson woman"?
Society columns.
Paparazzi tracking my every move.
Elite matrons scrutinizing my background, my clothes, my family history.
People looking at my stomach not as a beautiful gift for two grieving parents, but as a multi-billion-peso prize.
If Marcus’s decoy plan stood even for a few weeks, the public spotlight would lock onto me with a suffocating, blinding glare.
"They're going to tear my life apart looking for a story," I whispered, my voice barely audible.
I stared at the half-eaten pizza box, a sudden wave of nausea hitting me that had absolutely nothing to do with morning sickness.
"I can't do this," I said, "I have to call Marcus. Right now. I don't care how confused he was in that parking lot, he has to call his grandfather and shut this down. He can tell him we broke up. He can tell him he made a mistake. He can tell him anything!"
"Ashley, breathe," Mia said, jumping up from the couch to block my path. "Think for a second. If Marcus backpedals now, after Edward Bryson saw you together at a prenatal clinic, holding your stomach, what does that look like? It looks like a cover-up. It will make the old man dig even deeper."
"So I'm just supposed to sit here and wait for the paparazzi to camp outside my apartment? This place doesn't even have a security gate, Mia! If high society finds out the Bryson heir is supposedly growing in a mid-range residential unit in Quezon City, my peaceful life is over!"
Before Mia could offer another piece of terrifyingly accurate insight, my phone began to vibrate violently on the coffee table.
We both froze, staring at the glowing screen like it was a live explosive.
I swallowed hard, stepping forward to pick it up. The caller ID didn't show Marcus’s name. Instead, it was an unknown corporate number.
"Hello?"
"Ms. Ashley Martin?" A polite, incredibly crisp female voice echoed through the line. "Good afternoon. My name is Amanda, and I am calling from the executive security detail at Bryson Enterprises."
My heart dropped directly into my shoes. I locked eyes with Mia, who was watching me with her mouth slightly open.
"Yes, this is Ashley," I managed to say, my voice sounding tight and choked.
"Wonderful. Mr. Marcus Bryson has instructed us to review the security parameters of your current residence," Amanda explained, "we have already dispatched a team to monitor the perimeter of your building, and a secure transport vehicle has been assigned to your location. Moving forward, any travel outside your apartment must be logged through our dispatch."
I stood there, completely stunned. "Wait... what? Dispatched a team? Marcus did this?"
"Yes, Ms. Martin. Mr. Bryson’s grandfather has unfortunately already made several inquiries to local media outlets regarding a 'private family matter' at the medical center today," Amanda said, a hint of professional strain finally bleeding into her perfect voice. "To ensure your safety and privacy from immediate press speculation, we are establishing a secure perimeter around you effectively immediately. Mr. Bryson will be arriving at your apartment in twenty minutes to discuss further arrangements."
"Twenty minutes?" I choked out.
"Yes, ma'am. Have a good afternoon."
The line went dead.
I slowly lowered the phone, my breath hitching as I looked at Mia. The excitement was entirely gone from my best friend's face now.
"What did they say?" Mia whispered.
"Edward Bryson already started talking. Marcus's security team is outside. And Marcus is on his way here right now."