"Let Me Carry a Child for Him," My Doctor Said

§PROLOGUE

Since you can't... what if you let me?

The voice was a gentle murmur, a silken thread weaving through the lingering fog of anesthesia.

Dr. Briar Langley’s hand was cool and steady on Audra’s, her thumb tracing soothing circles over Audra’s knuckles.

"Let me carry a child for him. For you both."

The words were spoken with such rehearsed sincerity, such practiced compassion, that for a moment, they almost made sense.

Almost.

Audra’s vision swam, focusing on the crisp white coat, the perfectly coiffed blonde hair, the sympathetic blue eyes that had witnessed every one of her sixty-six failures.

Her doctor.

Her friend.

The woman now offering to take her place in her husband’s bed, cloaked in the noble sacrifice of surrogacy.

A bitter, metallic taste flooded Audra’s mouth, sharp and real.

It was the taste of betrayal.

§01

The operating room doors hissed open, and the world rushed back in sterile, fluorescent clarity.

Everett Creighton strode forward, his handsome face a mask of concern, his bespoke suit uncreased by hours of waiting.

But he walked past her gurney.

He walked directly to Dr. Briar Langley, who stood pulling off her surgical gloves.

He took Briar’s hands in his, his brow furrowed with a tenderness Audra hadn’t seen directed at her in years.

"Briar, thank you for your hard work. For being with us through another disappointment."

His voice was a low, intimate rumble, filled with a shared sorrow that pointedly excluded Audra.

Briar offered a weary, professional smile, gently extracting her hands from his grip.

"It's my duty, Mr. Creighton. Please don't worry too much. Audra's body needs to rest."

Two nurses began to push Audra’s gurney down the hall.

As they passed the pair, their voices dropped to conspiratorial whispers.

"Dr. Langley is a saint, doing all these procedures herself. And Mr. Creighton is so devoted to her."

"I know, right? If you didn't know better, you'd think they were the couple."

§02

Back in the sterile luxury of the VIP suite, Everett followed, carrying an insulated thermos.

His face was once again arranged into the familiar expression of dutiful care.

He poured a fragrant, steaming broth into a porcelain bowl.

"Audra, I had the chef prepare that custom vitality broth from Erewhon. You need to replenish your strength."

The rich, savory aroma filled the air.

Audra started to push herself up, wincing at the dull ache in her abdomen, a phantom pain for a hope that was never there.

But he took that first bowl and walked straight to the doorway, where Briar was reviewing Audra's chart.

"Briar, you've been working all morning. You have some first, to keep your energy up."

Briar looked up, a performance of surprise on her face, and waved her hands dismissively.

"Oh, I couldn't possibly. This was made for Audra."

"It's fine, there's plenty more for her," Everett insisted, pressing the bowl into her hands. "Your health is just as important."

After she’d finished the broth, Briar walked to Audra’s bedside, her face a mask of clinical regret.

She handed a file not to Audra, but to Everett.

"Mr. Creighton, based on the latest data from this cycle, Audra’s reproductive function has deteriorated significantly. There is no longer a viable path to natural conception."

Everett’s jaw tightened, his gaze fixed on the report.

Briar looked from Everett to Audra, then took a deep, theatrical breath.

She took Audra’s cold hand in hers, her expression one of profound, heartfelt sincerity.

"Audra, I know this is incredibly difficult to accept, but we have to face reality."

§03

"Since you can't... why not grant me this wish?"

Audra pulled her hand back as if burned, her heart seizing in her chest.

"Grant you what?"

Tears welled in Briar’s eyes, shimmering with unshed grief.

"I want… I want to borrow Everett’s sperm. To fulfill my dream of being a single mother."

A roar filled Audra’s ears, drowning out the sterile hum of the hospital machines.

The world tilted.

Briar was still speaking, her voice a desperate, humble plea.

"I promise, it would just be a clinical donation. It would never interfere with your life with Everett. I would even be honored to have the baby call you godmother! Please?"

"No."

The word was a strangled gasp, but it was a start.

"I do not agree."

The force of her own voice surprised her, raw and jagged.

Briar’s face froze, and her eyes instantly reddened, a perfect picture of wounded innocence.

She turned her tear-filled gaze to Everett.

Everett’s face, which had been a mask of feigned sympathy, turned to ice.

He glared at Audra, his eyes filled with a disgust and impatience that struck her more brutally than a physical blow.

"It's just a sperm donation! It's not like you can use it anyway!"

"Dr. Langley has sacrificed so much for us, moving heaven and earth to help. The least we can do is show some gratitude. Can you stop being so selfish for once?"

Audra stared at his face, at the absolute conviction that he was in the right, that her feelings were an inconvenience.

And in that moment, a strange, cold calm settled over her.

She smiled, a slow, hollow curve of her lips that made both of them flinch.

Meeting his and Briar's bewildered gazes, she spoke each word with chilling clarity.

"You can be the good guy, Everett. We're getting a divorce."

§04

After the hospital observation period ended, Audra returned to the Creighton estate alone.

The living room was ablaze with light.

Margo Creighton, her mother-in-law, sat on the sofa like a queen on a throne of judgment, her face a thundercloud.

Seeing Audra, she slammed her teacup onto the marble coffee table with a sharp crack.

"You have the audacity to show your face here?"

"Stop right there," she commanded, her voice like shards of glass. "I heard. That womb of yours is officially useless, isn't it?"

"Five years! You've wasted five years of my son's life, five years of his energy, and for what? Nothing! I should have known from the start you were nothing but a barren bride, an empty cradle!"

"You know the rules of the Creighton trust! Without a legitimate, biological heir, Everett doesn't get full control of his inheritance! Are you trying to ruin my son?"

Her accusations escalated, spittle flying from her lips.

"Since you can't fulfill your duty, then sign the papers and get out! Stop occupying the position of Mrs. Creighton. Do you hear me?"

Audra looked at the woman's face, twisted with rage, and felt a suffocating pressure in her chest.

"This is between Everett and me," she replied, her voice dangerously quiet.

"Your business? You are jeopardizing my son's entire future!"

Margo stormed over to a console table where a delicate, antique lace gown was displayed in a glass case.

The Creighton Christening Gown.

On their first wedding anniversary, Margo had shown it to her, a cruel promise hanging in the air. "This is waiting for your child," she had said.

Now, she unlocked the case, snatched the priceless heirloom, and hurled it onto the floor.

"Prayers! Hopes! What's the use of any of it on a failure!"

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