So, let’s not bicker over the terms. Tell me what you need to get on that plane, and I will see that the money is wired into your account first thing in the morning.”

Georgia stared at the older man, her serene expression hiding her anxiety, as well as her frustration. Yes, money was tight, but she didn’t want more money. She just wanted to finish what she’d started. It had been a mistake to do this. She thought she’d manage as a surrogate, but lately she was finding it increasingly difficult to keep her emotions in check. But it was too late to back out now. There was no changing her mind, either. The contracts were binding. The child wasn’t hers. And, yes, she carried him, and each little flutter kick made her heart ache, but the baby was Nikos Panos’s, and she couldn’t forget it.

Which meant she had to move forward. It was her only option. And the moment she delivered, the moment the baby was whisked away, she’d black this year from her memory. Georgia never wanted to think about any of this again. It was the only way to survive something so challenging. Fortunately, she had practice in surviving challenging situations. Grief was a good teacher.

“Name it,” Mr. Laurent said quietly.

“It’s not about the money—”

“But it will pay bills, so pay your bills. Provide for your sister. I understand she, too, wants to attend medical school. Take advantage of the offer so you never have to do something like this again.”

That last bit hit home. Her gaze locked with his, and her short, filed nails curled into her palms.

Mr. Laurent was right. She could never do something like this again. It was breaking her heart. But she’d survived worse. And it wasn’t as if she was abandoning a child to a monster. Nikos Panos wanted this baby desperately.

Drawing a short, sharp breath, Georgia named an outrageous figure, a sum that would cover Savannah’s medical school and living expenses, plus some. Georgia made the sum deliberately high, intending to shock the old lawyer.

But Mr. Laurent didn’t blink.