**Chapter 3: The Price of an Heir** The air in the Foster family’s ancestral mansion was thick with the scent of expensive tea and unspoken agendas. Avery sat on the edge of her seat, her pulse a frantic rhythm against her ribs. She felt like a specimen under a microscope, watched by eyes that saw her not as a woman, but as a variable in a high-stakes calculation. “You’re still a student, aren't you, Avery?” Henry’s wife broke the silence, her voice dripping with a sickly-sweet concern that didn’t reach her cold eyes. “Think of your future. A pregnancy now... it would ruin your studies. It’s such a heavy burden for someone so young.” Henry was quick to chime in, his nodding frantic. “Exactly! Avery has her whole life ahead of her. She shouldn't be trapped at home, changing diapers and sacrificing her youth. It’s simply not practical.” The subtext was deafening: *Don’t produce an heir. Don't touch the inheritance.* Rosalie Foster, the matriarch, sat at the head of the table, her expression unreadable. She knew exactly why her son and daughter-in-law were so "concerned." They were vultures, waiting for Elliot to draw his last breath so they could tear into his estate. To them, Avery was a threat; to Rosalie, she was the last hope for Elliot’s legacy. Rosalie turned her sharp gaze toward Avery, cutting through the fluff. “Avery, let’s be blunt. Are you willing to carry Elliot’s child? You must understand the weight of this. If you do, you and that child will be the sole inheritors of Elliot’s entire estate. It is a fortune that would ensure you never want for anything for the rest of your life.” The room went silent. Henry and his wife held their breath. “I’ll do it,” Avery replied. Her voice was steady, her eyes locked onto Rosalie’s. She didn't hesitate. It wasn't just about the money; it was about the fire burning in her chest. She would do anything to ensure that Cole—the man who had betrayed her—never saw a single cent of Elliot’s fortune. Rosalie’s face transformed, a triumphant smile spreading across her lips. “Wonderful! I knew you had spirit. You’re not like those other fools who think a dying man has nothing left to offer. Ha! Let them be stupid.” *** The heat of the morning sun hit Avery as she stepped out of the mansion, but it offered no warmth. The relentless drone of cicadas in the trees felt like a headache coming on. “Please take the gifts to the car and head home first, Mrs. Cooper,” Avery said quietly, handing over the parcels she had been carrying. The housekeeper nodded respectfully and disappeared, leaving Avery alone on the gravel path. Or so she thought. “You’re breaking my heart, Avery,” a voice hissed from the shadows of the veranda. Cole stepped forward, his handsome face twisted into a mask of resentment. “All the time we dated, you never let me touch you. You were so ‘pure.’ And now? Now you’ve agreed to sell yourself to my dying uncle? To have his child?” Avery felt a surge of nausea at the sight of him. She tilted her chin up, a mocking glint in her eyes. “Why wouldn't I? Bearing his child means securing his estate. It’s a simple business transaction, Cole. One that puts me very, very far above you.” Cole flinched as if struck, his ego bruising instantly. He stepped closer, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “Fine. You want the money? I have a better idea. Have *my* child instead. We can tell everyone it’s Uncle Elliot’s. It would still be a Foster. Even if Grandmother finds out later, she’d never force you to abort a Foster heir.” The disgust Avery felt was so potent she could almost taste it. The mockery vanished from her face, replaced by a cold, hard stare. “It’s good to be ambitious, Cole,” she said, her voice dropping to a dangerous low. “But ambition without brains is a death sentence. Do you really think the people around Elliot are fools? His inner circle is made of the most ruthless men in the city. As long as he is breathing, they are guarding his interests like wolves.” She took a step toward him, watching him recoil. “If they even *suspect* I’m carrying a child that isn't his, do you think they’ll just let it slide? They would erase us both before the sun went down.” Cole went pale. The reality of his uncle’s power—even in a coma—sent a visible shiver through his frame. The "minions" Avery spoke of were legendary for their cold efficiency. “I—I was just kidding!” Cole stammered, trying to regain his footing. “Of course, I just want what’s best. Whether it’s his or mine, the kid is family. When Uncle Elliot passes... I’ll treat the child like my own.” Avery let out a short, dry laugh. “Cole, your uncle’s child would be your cousin. Try to keep your family tree straight.” Cole looked like he had swallowed a fly, his mouth hanging open in a silent, humiliated gape. “I’m leaving,” Avery said, turning her back on him. “Your grandmother has already arranged for a doctor to meet me at Elliot’s villa. Unlike you, I have work to do.” *** The atmosphere at Elliot’s mansion had shifted from a quiet tomb to a clinical prison. Avery was barely through the door before two female doctors greeted her. There was no warmth in their welcome—only a professional, detached urgency. They led her to a private medical suite within the villa, a room filled with the scent of antiseptic and the hum of high-end machinery. “There’s no need to be nervous, Mrs. Foster,” one of the doctors said as she prepped a tray of instruments. “We need to check if you are ovulating. If so, we proceed immediately. If not, we will begin the hormone injections to stimulate the process.” Avery lay back on the cold examination table, the ceiling lights blurring above her. “This might be a bit uncomfortable,” the doctor continued, her tone patronizingly soothing. “But think of the reward. Once you give birth to Mr. Foster’s heir, your position in this family will be unbreakable. You’ll be the most powerful woman in the city.” Avery stared at the clinical white walls. Her heart hammered against her ribs like a trapped bird. She had made her choice, but as the doctor reached for the syringe, the reality of her new life began to sink in. She was no longer a student, a daughter, or a woman with a future of her own. She was a vessel. “How long?” Avery whispered, her voice trembling despite her best efforts. “How long until it’s done?”