Carrying The Billion-Dollar Baby

Chapter One: Ashley's POV

I hate silence.

Silence gives people time to think, and thinking is dangerous when your bank account is dying, your future is uncertain, and you’ve just agreed to rent out your uterus for a blank check.

That’s why I like noise.

Music so loud it rattles my ribs. Friends screaming over cocktails. Bars packed with strangers who don’t ask personal questions. Dance floors bright enough to make bad decisions look exciting.

Noise keeps life fun. But apparently, pregnancy comes with silence.

“The procedure was successful, Ms. Martin.” I blinked at the fertility specialist across the table.

Successful.The word landed in my chest strangely.

Pregnant. Officially pregnant.

“Oh,” I said intelligently. Beside me, Simone burst into tears.

Actual tears. Her hands flew to her mouth as her shoulders started shaking. “It worked…”

I immediately hugged her because what else was I supposed to do when my older sister started crying in public?

“We’re finally having a baby,” she whispered against my shoulder.

We.

Not me. Important distinction.

I pulled back slowly and forced a smile even though my brain still felt frozen somewhere between panic and disbelief.

“You know,” I said, “most sisters just borrow clothes from each other. This feels excessive.” Simone laughed weakly through tears.

Good.

Humor I can handle.

Existential emotional conversations? Absolutely not.

Across from us, Nash Logan Orwell looked relieved for the first time in weeks. Actually relieved. His posture loosened slightly as he stared at me—or more specifically, at my stomach. That should not have made me uncomfortable.

And yet.

“Thank you, Ashley,” he said quietly. He was to calm for someone grateful. Though it wasn't sound fake. But still, no emotion at all.

Though I didn't want him to be dramatic. Somehow, that's okay.

“You’re welcome,” I replied automatically.

The thing about Nash is that he always sounds controlled. Calm. Careful. Like every sentence has already been approved by a board of directors before leaving his mouth.

Sometimes I wonder if he’s ever done anything reckless in his entire life.

Meanwhile, I once got matching tattoos with a bartender because he gave me free tequila. Different species entirely.

The doctor adjusted his glasses and opened another folder.

“Now we’ll discuss lifestyle changes moving forward.”

I immediately narrowed my eyes. “I don’t like the sound of that.”

“No alcohol,” he said. I gasped dramatically. “No smoking.”

“Okay, fair.”

“Minimal caffeine. Proper sleep schedule. Reduced stress.”

I stared at him.

“So basically,” I said slowly, “everything that makes life worth living is illegal now.”

“Ashley,” Simone muttered.

“I’m joking,” I said.

Mostly.

The doctor continued talking about vitamins, hormone levels, nutrition, and prenatal care while I nodded like a responsible adult. Truthfully, half my brain had already disconnected.

Pregnant.

There’s a tiny little human inside me right now.

Well. Tiny cluster of cells technically. Still terrifying.

An hour later, I walked out of the clinic carrying a paper bag filled with medications and enough instruction packets to qualify as a college course.

The sunlight outside felt weirdly bright. Like the entire world looked the same while mine had quietly changed forever.

My phone buzzed immediately.

Mia: CLUB TONIGHT. YOU’VE BEEN MISSING FOR WEEKS.

I snorted. Another message appeared.

Troy: If you don’t come, we’ll replace you with a hotter friend.

I typed back instantly.

Me: Impossible. I’m the personality hire.

Mia: SO YOU’RE COMING???

My fingers paused over the screen.

Normally, the answer would’ve been yes before she even asked. Normally, I’d already be planning my outfit.

Short dress. Loud music. Too many drinks. Bad dancing. Regrettable decisions. That was my routine. That was me.

But now… My hand slowly drifted toward my stomach.

No alcohol. No crowded clubs. No staying out until sunrise. No reckless anything.

The realization hit me so suddenly that I actually stopped walking beside my car. My entire life had changed in a single afternoon.

And the worst part? Nobody around me seemed to understand how terrifying that actually was.

Simone was happy. Nash was relieved. The doctors were satisfied.

Meanwhile, I was twenty-six years old, accidentally sober, and apparently sentenced to nine months of behaving responsibly.

Honestly?

That might be the hardest part of this entire pregnancy.

I ended up going home instead of the club.

Which honestly felt illegal.

My apartment was painfully quiet when I walked inside. No music. No television. No friends laughing somewhere in the background. Just me, my shoes clicking against the floor, and the paper bag full of prenatal vitamins sitting heavily in my arms.

I dropped the bag onto the kitchen counter and stared at it like it had personally offended me.

Then my phone rang.

Simone.

“Tell me you’re resting already,” she said the second I answered.

“I’m mourning my social life.”

She laughed softly. “You’ll survive.”

“Debatable.” I opened my fridge and immediately frowned.

Wine bottles.

Beer cans.

Leftover takeout.

Half a chocolate cake.

Wow. My diet suddenly looked like evidence in a criminal investigation. I seriously don't know how can I adjust to this. Is this karma for all of the insults and judgments I did to passers by walking in front of me in peace?

“You should start eating healthier now,” Simone continued gently, like she could somehow see inside my kitchen through the phone.

“Are you secretly outside my apartment?”

“Ashley.”

“I’m kidding.”

Again.

Silence settled briefly between us before Simone spoke more quietly.

“Thank you. Really.bI leaned against the counter and closed my eyes. That tone in her voice always made this harder.

Because Simone wasn’t manipulating me. She wasn’t forcing me. She genuinely loved me.

Which meant I couldn’t even resent her properly.

“I know,” I whispered.

After the call ended, I stood alone in the kitchen for a long moment before slowly grabbing the wine bottles from the fridge one by one.

Then I poured every single one down the sink. The smell of alcohol filled the air as the liquid disappeared down the drain.

Goodbye, fun Ashley.

Hello… whatever version this was supposed to be now.