Mr. Foster led her, not back to the nursery corridor but to a different room nearby. It mirrored the previous room that Kristoff has gotten for her. Its size overwhelming, and the opulent decor and comfort would rival a five star hotel.
Inside, another man waited. His spectacles were so perfectly, comically round, Isobel’s mind immediately conjured images of Harry Potter. A fleeting, absurd thought in a situation that was anything but funny.
"Miss Lancey, here is the contract." The lawyer, a man whose hair was as finely styled as his suit, extended a slim, two-page document.
Isobel stared.
A contract? Now?
She’d just spent the last hour consumed by the raw, overwhelming need of tiny infants, their hungry mouths latched on her like it was their lifeline.. .Her body still thrummed with a strange, primal echo, that felt... jarring.
"Mr. Foster," she began, her voice a little thin, her gaze flicking to the imposing figure who still commanded the space beside the lawyer. "I’m not signing anything. Helping with the babies is... it’s enough." Her cheeks warmed, a tell-tale flush of embarrassment for her earnest, naive offer.
The lawyer’s voice was smooth, devoid of emotion. "Miss Lancey, you haven’t even seen the terms. How can you refuse what you don’t know?"
Reluctantly, Isobel reached for the document. Her eyes skimmed the bold header: "NANNY/WET NURSE EMPLOYMENT AGREEMENT." Her gaze dropped to the compensation: One hundred thousand a month. Her breath hitched. That’s a manager’s salary, for a nanny who earned 15k on the average, that was too good to be true.
"I... I’m sorry," she said, the words feeling heavy on her tongue. It was a tempting sum, a lifeline. But the thought of it made her stomach clench. "I can’t sign this. I’ve already lost a year, for... for a surrogacy. I need to get my life back, properly." She held her ground, her voice gaining a decisive edge she didn’t know she possessed.
"What do you want, Miss Lancey?"
Morgan Foster’s voice, deep and resonant, cut through the quiet. It was the first time she’d heard him speak directly to her, in such authoritative voice and the controlled intensity of it sent a shiver down her spine.
Isobel met his gaze, refusing to flinch. "I want to work. I spent four years of my life and sacrificed everything for a degree so I could land a good corporate job. Not... not this." The words tumbled out.
Raw and honest.
She hadn’t fought her way through college, pouring over textbooks until her eyes blurred, just to become a glorified babysitter.
Morgan Foster’s eyes, as sharp and dark as obsidian, raked over her. He seemed to take in every detail – her slightly rumpled hospital gown, the untamed curls escaping her braid, the defiant set of her chin.
Then, his attention shifted to the sleek device in his hand, his thumb scrolling. He was reading something.
Her dossier.
A slow, calculating smile touched his lips. "Perfect." He looked up, his gaze locking with hers. "Aioryx Technologies is in need of an executive assistant. Immediately."
Isobel’s mind screeched to a halt, then immediately raced beyond 100 mph.
An executive assistant? At Aioryx? Was he messing with her? This had to be a joke, a cruel twist to her already surreal day. She just gaped at him.
"To be honest," he continued, a hint of something unreadable in his eyes, "I had you investigated. Summa cum laude. Major in languages. Exactly the talent I’m looking for."
Isobel felt her jaw sag. Her gaze, wide and unblinking, fixed on Morgan Foster.
"I... I..." Words curdled on her tongue, leaving her utterly speechless.
The lawyer, ever efficient, presented another document. An employment contract. Not for a nanny. For an executive assistant.
"There is a catch, Ms. Lancey." Morgan’s voice remained serious, effectively cutting through the fog of Isobel’s shock. "You have to feed my twins. You don’t need to take care of them, they have nannies for that. But their primary nutrition will be... from you."
Isobel’s brow furrowed. "Then... does that mean I still need to stay here with them?" The question felt stupid, clunky, but her brain was still buffering.
"Naturally." Morgan’s tone brooked no argument. "You can begin your full duties after they turn one month. Before that, you’ll familiarize yourself with the company from here. I’ll assign someone to train you remotely."
He gestured to the lawyer who handed her a pen.
"If that’s acceptable, you can sign the contract now, Miss Lancey."
Isobel devoured the contract, reading every clause twice, her linguistic training kicking in automatically. Every provision seemed designed to benefit her. And Aioryx Technologies... it was one of her dream companies, second only to the legendary Dalton Technologies.
"Alright," Isobel breathed, the single word a decisive, seismic shift in her life. She snatched the pen and, with a hand that trembled only slightly, signed her name.
"I had someone process your discharge from your old room. You can stay in this suite starting now." He turned towards the door, already moving. "I have other matters to attend to. Someone will ensure all your needs are met. My only expectation is that my babies are well-fed."
Isobel watched Morgan Foster and the lawyer exit the room, leaving her alone in the sudden, suffocating silence.
She stood there, dazed for a long moment.
It still felt like a dream. She couldn’t believe her luck. To met Morgan Foster now, at precisely the right moment, the right place.
Perhaps this was God’s way of compensating her, a cosmic balance for the baby she had carried and lost. This job, this opportunity... it was more than just a bonus.
She didn’t care if Morgan Foster was only being "good" to her for the sake of his twins. That was a fact she was already starkly familiar with from her surrogacy journey.
The important thing was that she finally had a real, decent job. A future.