"You can take a year off school and carry our baby," Camilla says, sliding onto the couch with a smile that reads like a contract. "I am not your incubator," I answer. Camilla pats my knee. "Johanna, this is family. Think of it as helping your sister. Plus—" She lifts her chin toward Andre. "—it'll be perfect for everyone." "My sister can adopt," I say. "Or we can find another way." "Adoption takes years." Andre's voice is soft and precise. He sits back in the armchair and rates me with the kind of look men use in boardrooms and bedrooms. "You're young. You're fit. You can do this without it derailing you." "I didn't come home to be evaluated," I tell him. Patricia smiles and reaches for Frank's hand. "Johanna, you're always so practical. Camilla's under pressure. It's only natural to help." "Under pressure from what?" I ask. Camilla leans forward. "This is about legacy. Andre's family expects a grandchild. Victoria called. We can't disappoint." "You want me to hand my body over because your in-laws have expectations," I say. Camilla's smile tightens. "You sound dramatic. We won't force you. We're asking. Think of the favor you'll do for Camilla." "You're asking like it's a favor," I say. "You're asking like I'm a tool." Andre laughs, that low laugh that tries to make cruelty sound casual. "She always was dramatic