My Pregnancy Contract With The Billionaire

Chapter 4

### Chapter: The Weight of the Offer

Cristine lay in bed that night, staring at the cracks in the ceiling of her tiny apartment, unable to quiet the swirl of thoughts in her mind. Vanessa's words replayed in her head over and over again. Surrogacy. Carrying a child for someone else in exchange for a life-changing sum of money. A part of her was tempted—tempted by the idea of finally escaping her financial nightmare, by the idea of no longer having to work three different jobs just to survive.

But there was another part of her, a stronger, more visceral part, that recoiled at the thought. How could she carry a baby, feel it grow inside her for nine months, and then just hand it over to someone else? She wasn’t sure she could go through with something like that. It felt too cold, too transactional. It wasn’t just a job—it was creating life. And that life would never know her.

Cristine pulled the blanket tighter around her, the weight of her dilemma settling heavily on her chest. Her grandmother's soft snores filled the room, a gentle reminder of why she was even considering something so drastic. The bills piled up on the kitchen counter, the constant pressure from the loan sharks, and the uncertainty of her future made everything feel like too much to handle. She had to do something, but this? Could she really sell her body in this way?

It was just so much. Too much.

She turned over and reached for the black card Vanessa had given her earlier. She stared at the number embossed on it, the sleek, professional design feeling so foreign compared to her own life. Vanessa had been so calm, so collected when she explained her past. She had made the decision to become a surrogate out of desperation, just like Cristine was now. And it had worked for her—Vanessa was living proof that there was a way out.

But as Cristine thought more about it, her heart sank. No matter how much she tried to convince herself that this was just another job, that it was a way to save her grandmother, she couldn’t shake the feeling that this was wrong. It wasn’t just about the money. It was about something deeper.

Cristine let out a deep sigh and picked up her phone, her fingers trembling as she dialed Vanessa’s number. The phone rang twice before she heard Vanessa’s cool, confident voice on the other end.

“Cristine?” Vanessa’s voice came through the line.

“Hi, Vanessa,” Cristine said, her voice soft and hesitant. “I... I’ve been thinking about what you said. About the offer.”

Vanessa didn’t speak immediately, but Cristine could almost feel her attentiveness through the phone. Finally, Vanessa responded, “I see. And?”

Cristine bit her lip, trying to find the right words. “I wanted to thank you, first of all. For offering me such a... well, an opportunity. But I’ve been thinking about it all night, and I just don’t think I can do it. I can’t imagine carrying a baby and then just... forgetting about it. I respect what you did, truly, but I don’t think I can go through with something like that.”

There was a pause on the other end of the line, and for a moment Cristine worried that she had somehow offended Vanessa. But then, Vanessa’s voice came back, soft and understanding.

“I completely understand,” Vanessa said gently. “I had those exact same doubts when I first considered it. It wasn’t an easy decision for me, either. I thought about it for days before I finally agreed. And even then, it felt strange. Using a baby—something so innocent—just to escape the life I had before felt wrong. But, in the end, I was desperate enough to go through with it.”

Cristine felt a lump rise in her throat. “I... I can’t see myself doing that. I just... I wouldn’t be able to walk away after carrying that baby for nine months.”

“I understand, Cristine,” Vanessa said again. “Not everyone can do it, and that’s okay. It’s a deeply personal decision, and I would never pressure you into it. I’m just offering you an option. But if you ever change your mind, you have my number. Just remember that.”

Cristine let out a long breath, relief washing over her. “Thank you, Vanessa. I really appreciate you understanding.”

“Of course. Take care of yourself, Cristine. And remember, if things ever get worse and you feel like you have no other options, just give me a call. I’ll be here.”

Cristine nodded, though Vanessa couldn’t see her through the phone. “Thanks. I will. Take care, too.”

After they said their goodbyes, Cristine hung up the phone, her heart heavy but her mind a little clearer. She had made the right decision. It would have been easy to take Vanessa’s offer and end her financial troubles, but Cristine knew that if she went down that path, she would lose something more important than money—she would lose a piece of herself.

---

For the next few days, Cristine tried to convince herself that she could still manage without Vanessa’s offer. She threw herself into her work, taking on extra shifts whenever possible. The salon was as busy as ever, with clients coming and going, their conversations buzzing in the background as Cristine swept floors and cleaned stations.

But no matter how hard she worked, it never seemed to be enough. The bills kept piling up, and the loan sharks’ threats became more frequent and more aggressive. Cristine’s nerves were frayed from the constant worry, and her grandmother’s condition only made things harder. Every day felt like a balancing act—trying to keep everything from falling apart while knowing that one wrong step could send her entire life crashing down.

One evening, after a long shift at the salon, Cristine made her way to the small restaurant where she worked her second job as a waitress. She was tired—her body ached from the long hours, and her mind felt foggy from lack of sleep. But she needed the money, and there was no time to rest.

As she walked into the restaurant, her manager, a middle-aged man named Tony, waved her over. Cristine’s heart sank. Tony never called her over unless there was a problem.

“Hey, Cristine,” Tony said, his tone unusually serious. “Can I talk to you for a minute?”

Cristine nodded, her stomach churning with anxiety. She followed Tony into his small office in the back of the restaurant, her mind racing with worst-case scenarios.

Tony closed the door behind them and gestured for Cristine to sit. She did, though her nerves made it hard to sit still.

“I’m not going to beat around the bush,” Tony said, leaning back in his chair. “You’ve been late three times this week.”

Cristine’s heart dropped. “I—I know, Tony. I’m really sorry. It’s just, my other job at the salon... the shifts are unpredictable, and I have to take care of my grandma...”

Tony held up a hand to stop her. “I get it, Cristine. I really do. But we can’t keep having this. The other staff are picking up your slack, and it’s not fair to them. I need reliability here. If you can’t show up on time, I’m going to have to let you go.”

Cristine’s throat tightened. She couldn’t lose this job. She needed the money.

“Please, Tony,” she said, her voice cracking. “I need this job. I’ll do better, I promise. Just... please don’t fire me.”

Tony looked at her, his expression softening slightly. He sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. “Look, I’m not heartless. I know you’ve got a lot going on. But I’ve got a business to run, and I need people I can count on. I’ll give you one more chance, Cristine. But if you’re late again, I can’t keep you on. Understand?”

Cristine nodded, tears stinging her eyes. “Yes, I understand. Thank you, Tony. I’ll do better, I swear.”

Tony nodded and gestured for her to go. “All right. Get back to work.”

Cristine left the office, her chest tight with a mix of relief and anxiety. She had gotten a reprieve, but it felt like a fragile one. One more slip-up, and she’d be out of a job. And then what? How would she pay the bills? How would she take care of her grandmother?

As she returned to the dining area to take her next table’s order, her thoughts drifted back to Vanessa’s offer. Maybe she had made the right decision by turning it down. But as the weight of her situation pressed down on her, she couldn’t help but wonder if she had just made a huge mistake.

---

Cristine stood at the foot of her father’s grave, the cold breeze brushing against her cheeks as she stared down at the headstone. Today would have been his birthday. The man who had raised her, loved her, and in many ways, shaped the life she lived now, lay beneath the ground in this peaceful cemetery. Her heart was conflicted. The emotions that swirled inside her were a mix of love, grief, and resentment.

She knelt and placed a single white rose on the grave, her fingers lingering on the petals as if she could send her feelings into the flower itself. The soft scent filled the air as she straightened up, clasping her hands together in front of her, her eyes closing as she said a silent prayer.

“I miss you, Dad,” she whispered, her voice barely audible over the rustling of the wind through the nearby trees. “But I’m also so angry. You left me everything, including this debt... and now I’m drowning because of it. But I know you didn’t mean for it to be this way.”

She let out a heavy sigh, looking around at the beautiful cemetery where her father was laid to rest. It was a luxury that neither of them could have afforded in life, but his death insurance had covered the lot and the funeral. The loan sharks who hounded her daily had no power here. This was one place where they couldn’t touch her father—or her. Yet, the knowledge did little to ease the weight of her life.

“You always wanted the best for us,” Cristine said, staring at the polished granite of his grave. “And I know a lot of what you borrowed was to keep up with the lifestyle we had before everything fell apart. But now it’s my burden to carry. I just... I wish you were here to help me.”

Her voice wavered, and she felt the sting of tears in her eyes. But she blinked them away, forcing herself to stay composed. Crying wasn’t going to change anything. She had bills to pay, jobs to keep, and a grandmother to care for. She had to be strong, even if some days she felt like she was barely holding on.

After a few more moments of silence, she gathered her things and stood up, brushing dirt from her knees. She kissed her fingertips and gently pressed them against the top of the headstone before stepping away. “Happy birthday, Dad,” she whispered. “I’ll keep trying. I promise.”

Cristine turned to leave, walking slowly along the gravel path that led out of the cemetery. The trees lining the path provided a serene atmosphere, the golden sunlight filtering through their leaves in gentle shafts. She could feel a little weight lift from her shoulders—visiting her father had always helped ground her, even when her emotions were a tangled mess.

As she neared the gate, she noticed something unusual. A man in a sharp black suit stood a few yards away, facing a grave in the middle of a large, empty lot. The grave itself was solitary, surrounded by perfectly manicured grass, the rest of the plot waiting to be filled. Cristine slowed her pace, drawn by something in the man’s demeanor. He was tall, with broad shoulders and a well-kept appearance, but his posture was slouched in a way that made him seem vulnerable.

She couldn’t help but notice the slight shaking of his shoulders, and when she got closer, she realized he was silently crying.

Cristine hesitated. It wasn’t her place to intrude on someone else’s grief. But something about the image of this strong, seemingly composed man crying in the quiet of the cemetery tugged at her heart. She stopped a few feet away, unsure of what to do, then made a decision.

Without a word, she reached into her bag and pulled out a small, neatly folded handkerchief. Approaching him slowly, she extended the handkerchief toward him.

The man stiffened slightly at her approach, clearly embarrassed to have been caught in such a vulnerable moment. He wiped at his face quickly, trying to regain his composure, but Cristine held out the handkerchief anyway, offering it with a soft, sympathetic smile.

“It’s okay,” she said gently, her voice barely louder than a whisper. “Real men cry too. You don’t have to be ashamed of your feelings.”

The man glanced at her, his eyes red and puffy, though his features were sharp and handsome. He looked like the kind of man who was rarely seen in such a state, someone who probably commanded attention and respect in every room he entered. But here, in the quiet of the cemetery, he was just another grieving soul.

He didn’t say anything, but after a moment, he took the handkerchief from her hand, his fingers brushing against hers briefly. Cristine noticed how cold his skin felt, even though the air wasn’t particularly chilly.

She looked down at the grave in front of him and saw the name etched into the stone. It belonged to a woman. The dates indicated that she had passed away a few years ago. There were no flowers or candles by the grave, no signs of recent visits. Only the man, standing alone in front of the headstone, lost in his sorrow.

Cristine felt a pang of empathy for him. She couldn’t imagine the pain he must be feeling, but the sight of the bare grave tugged at something inside her. She always carried a few extra candles in her bag for visits to her father’s grave. Without saying a word, she knelt down and pulled out one of the candles. She placed it gently in front of the woman’s grave, lighting it with a match from her pocket.

The man watched her, his expression unreadable, as the flame flickered to life. Cristine stood up and brushed her hands off, turning to face him again.

“I’m sorry for your loss,” she said softly.

For a moment, the man just stared at her, as if he didn’t know how to respond. Then, with a quiet, hoarse voice, he muttered, “Thank you.”

Cristine gave him a small smile, nodding once before turning to leave. She didn’t want to intrude any further on his grief, but she hoped that, in some small way, her gesture had brought him a little bit of comfort.

As she walked away, the man remained standing by the grave, the soft glow of the candle casting a gentle light over the name on the headstone. Cristine glanced back one last time before exiting the cemetery, the image of the man etched into her memory.

Sometimes, she thought, grief was the one thing that made strangers feel connected—even if only for a fleeting moment. And in this moment, she had learned that even those who seemed to have everything together carried their own burdens of loss and sorrow.