He looked up when I entered.
“Morning,” he said.
“Morning.” I closed the door behind me, set my briefcase down, and poured myself a cup of coffee from the carafe Alexandria had left on the credenza. “You’re here early.”
“I’m glad I held off on sending the contract,” Raymond said, ignoring my observation entirely.
I turned to face him. “Why’s that?”
“Because I know how you are.”
I raised an eyebrow. “And how’s that?”
“You change your mind.” Raymond opened the folder and pulled out a stack of papers. “You called me at three in the morning to finalize the contract. Then you called again at six to say you wanted to hand deliver it instead of having me send it. So, I figured it was best to have you review the terms one last time before you walk it over to her.”
I took a sip of coffee. “Smart.”
“I thought so.” Raymond set the contract on my desk and tapped the first page with his pen. “Especially since the changes you emailed over are anything but standard.”
I sat in my chair and pulled the contract toward me.
The terms were laid out in clean, precise language—Raymond’s specialty. No ambiguity. No loopholes. Just clear expectations and ironclad protections.
For both of us.
But mostly for her.
“Walk me through it,” I said.
Raymond leaned back in his chair and folded his hands over his stomach. “Two hundred fifty thousand dollars, paid in four installments. Fifty thousand upon confirmed pregnancy via blood test. Fifty thousand at the start of the second trimester. Fifty thousand at the start of the third trimester. One hundred thousand upon delivery of a live, healthy child.”
I nodded. “That’s what we discussed.”
“It is.” Raymond paused. “But then you added the medical coverage clause.”
“All expenses,” I said. “Prenatal care, hospital bills, medications, complications—everything. She doesn’t pay a dime.”
“That’s generous.”
“It’s necessary. And standard.”
Raymond made a note on his legal pad. “You also added a security provision.”
“Driver and protection if needed,” I said. “She’s carrying my child. I’m not leaving her safety to chance.”
“Understandable.” Raymond flipped to the next page. “Then there’s the confidentiality clause. NDA with financial penalties if she discloses your identity, the nature of the arrangement, or any details about your personal life.”
“Standard,” I said.
“It is.” Raymond looked at me over his glasses. “But the termination clause isn’t.”
I set my coffee down. “Explain.”
“You gave her an out.” Raymond tapped the page with his pen. “If at any point during the pregnancy she decides she can’t continue—for any reason—she can terminate the contract and keep whatever money she’s been paid up to that point. No penalties. No legal recourse. She walks away clean.”
“That’s correct. We talked about that, though.”
“Amai.” Raymond leaned forward. “That’s not how surrogacy contracts work. If she terminates early, you lose the pregnancyandthe money you’ve already paid. You get nothing. I thought you were only saying that to get her to commit.”
