One million dollars -- a dream come true for struggling college student Ashlynn Morgan. All she has to do is sign on the dotted line and agree to become surrogate mother for CEO multi billionaire Felix Dunnerson and his wife Deborah.
Yet, during th...
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Eight weeks later, I shuffle across the tarmac of a regional airport toward the prison transport. The Californian sun burns hot on my skin and my eyes water from its brightness. A sudden breeze gives me chills, but after being locked up for close to two months, I welcome everything that involves stepping out of my six by nine feet solitary cell.
Two months—a short time when measured by one's life span but an eternity for me. Three of these weeks were spent handcuffed to a hospital bed while I recovered from my injuries. Beside a concussion and lacerations, a broken jaw and a punctured lung were the remnants of the beating.
In a sense, I got lucky, at least that's what the doctor had claimed. If the shiv had pierced my body less than an inch over, I would've never walked again. An ironic stroke of luck that prevented me to share the same fate as Deborah, even if I'd gladly trade places with her by now. Anything to guarantee that I could hold my son in my arms.
Deputy Bleaker helps me into the prison van before climbing in behind me. He loops the chain of my foot shackles through some bolted hooks on the floor, and I look away as he refastens the cuff around my ankle. The fact that they treat me no better than they would a mass murderer is like a constant stab to my self-esteem. My reasons for running were pure and selfless—all I wanted to do was protect my child, something most mothers in my position would have done.
"What happens now?" I ask Bleaker when the van begins to roll.
"You'll be arraigned on the charges here in California. If you can't make bail, you'll be in jail until the trial."
"How long will that take?"
"No clue, but your lawyer might know. As far as I know, he's already waiting for you at the jail."
I quirk a brow. "I have a lawyer waiting?"
"Some guy called Hill. Dispatch told me when we got off the plane. We were originally gonna take you to court, but he wanted to talk to you first."
Professor Hill. At least he hasn't abandoned me like the rest.
At the jail, Bleaker ushers me into the booking area and I'm officially processed in before a guard leads me to a small attorney room. Professor Hill stands and smiles as I plop down in the metal chair by the table. The guard finally removes the leg shackles, even though the handcuffs stay on.
Professor Hill sits down in the chair across from me and opens a manila folder. "How are you holding up?"
"I've been better."
"Well, we need to go over your charges and discuss bail. Do you have any money or collateral you could put up?"
"I think I have about fifty thousand dollar left." My smile is crooked. "Do you think that's enough?"
"Hard to tell. You were a fugitive, so the court will consider you a flight risk. We could counter that you only ran because of your son and with him now living in California, we could argue that you won't leave the State again. However, if that's enough for the judge is questionable. To be honest, I think you will still be looking at a million bucks, and you will need to put up at least ten percent of that to go through a bails bondman."
