Isabella Clairemont glanced nervously around the upscale residential neighborhood as she parked her Mercedes outside Dr. Evan Cruz's home. She checked her makeup one last time in the rearview mirror before grabbing her designer handbag.
The doctor's house was modern and sleek—all glass and sharp angles. He answered the door in casual clothes, a stark contrast to his usual professional appearance.
"Miss Clairemont," he said with a smirk. "Come in."
Isabella stepped inside, her heels clicking on the polished concrete floors. The interior was minimalist and cold, much like the man himself.
"I have the money," she said without preamble. "Let's get this over with."
Dr. Cruz gestured toward his living room. "Would you like a drink first?"
"No. I want to see what I'm paying for."
He shrugged and led her to his home office. A large monitor sat on his desk, already displaying what looked like an ultrasound image.
