Chapter 1
After Sophia's third miscarriage, she was getting ready to spend yet another night with her secretary.
She said he'd just gone through a divorce, and wasn't in a good place mentally and shouldn't be left alone.
I didn't argue or stop her. I just put a price list on the headboard.
One hour of emotional support: 30,000 dollars. Overnight companionship: 60,000 dollars.
Two months later, my account had over 3 million dollars more.
The doctor told her she had to stay in bed this time, but she turned around and picked up her phone.
Her bestie called, saying his cat was missing and he was afraid to search alone in the dark.
Just as she was about to throw off the covers and get out of bed, I handed her the progesterone injection and flashed the QR code for payment.
"Payment first. Emergency companion fee starts at 300,000 dollars."
With red-rimmed eyes, she spat, "How can you be this cruel?"
I lowered my head, touching the three birth certificates that never got completed, and smiled.
"Hadn't you already rented them out by the hour long before this?"
******
That night, after Sophia's third miscarriage, the light above the operating room doors finally went out.
A nurse stepped out, holding a clear plastic bag, her voice barely above a whisper.
"Sir, I need your signature. The fetal tissue will be handled as per hospital policy."
When I tried to sign, my hand trembled so much I couldn't even finish writing my name.
Sophia lay on the hospital bed, her face as pale as a crumpled piece of paper.
Half an hour later, her phone rang.
The screen lit up, the caller ID read: [Charles] glowing on the display.
She opened her eyes, but the first thing she said wasn't about the baby.
Sophia said, "Answer it."
The sharp smell of disinfectant filled the hospital room.
I answered the call, and before I could even turn off the speaker, a man's voice came through, trembling with emotion.
"Sophia, I'm so miserable. She really divorced me. I can't be alone at home. Can you come stay with me?"
Sophia braced herself against the bed, trying to sit up.
Just then, the doctor walked in, his expression immediately tightening.
"You just had a D&C. You can't get out of bed, and you need to stay in bed for at least twenty-four hours for observation," he said.
But she'd already ripped off the tape from the back of her hand.
A bead of blood welled up from the needle mark.
I grabbed her wrist.
"Sophia, we just lost the baby," I said.
She looked exhausted, and a little impatient.
"Michael, we can have another baby," she said, almost offhand.
Her words sounded light, but they struck me so hard my ears buzzed.
There was a brief silence on the other end, and then came the sound of sobbing.
"Forget it. Michael's probably not happy about this. I don't want you two to fight. I'll just tough it out on my own."
Sophia suddenly panicked.
"Charles, don't hang up," she said.
The doctor and nurse by the door were staring at us.
I let go of her wrist.
In that moment, every night I'd tried to stop her flashed through my mind.
The first time she miscarried, she went with Charles to a bar to help him find his ex-wife. When she came back, she was in so much pain she could barely stand.
The second time, she went with Charles to the beach to keep him company. She got a fever at 3 a.m., and the baby didn't make it.
The third time, even though she was already bleeding, she still drove out to pick up Charles.
I'd already cried myself dry waiting in line to pay hospital bills, over and over.
This time, I didn't argue.
I didn't stop her.
When I got home, the master bedroom stayed empty all night.
At dawn, Sophia came back, reeking of cigarettes and booze, her coat tossed over Charles's shoulders.
Charles stood at the door, eyes red, looking like the world had done him dirty.
"Michael, I'm sorry. I was in such a bad state last night. Sophia stayed because she was worried I'd do something stupid," he said.
I taped a printed sheet to the headboard.
It was plain paper with black ink.
It said: [Crying with him for an hour: 30,000 dollars.]
[Emotional support: 40,000 dollars.]
[Late-night rides: 50,000 dollars.]
[Overnight companionship: 60,000 dollars.]
[Risk surcharge for outings during miscarriage: 200,000 dollars.]
Sophia froze.
Charles let out a laugh first.
"Michael, what do you take Sophia for?" he said.
I pressed the tape flat.
"If she wants to rent out her time, I'm just sticking to the market rate," I said.
Sophia's expression turned icy.
"Michael, don't humiliate me this way," she said.
I glanced at the still raw needle mark on her wrist.
"I'm not the one who's humiliating you," I said.
Charles's eyes were even redder, his voice shaky.
"Sophia, I'll go. I don't want to mess up your marriage because of me," he said.
That was all it took for Sophia to turn her anger on me.
"Charles's already hurting enough. Why do you have to keep pushing him?" she snapped.
I pulled out my phone and brought up the payment code.
"Nine hours last night, including the overnight fee and the risk surcharge for going out during your miscarriage. Total: four million dollars," I said.
Sophia stared at me like she was seeing me for the first time.
"Are you crazy?" she snapped.
Charles pressed his lips together and took out his phone.
"I'll pay," he said.
Sophia quickly reached out to stop him.
"Ignore him," she said.
But Charles had already scanned the code.
The moment the payment notification chimed, it was like all the air had been sucked out of the room.