Nausea welled up into my throat from the knot in my stomach as I stood in front of Kelli Spencer's door in the apartment building nearby Silverlake, my heart pounding.

Why the hell had I agreed to this? It was ludicrous. Even more, it was wrong. Wasn't it?

Lifting my hand, I prepared to knock, and hesitated. I was doing the right thing. Not only for me, but also for my three-month-old son, Ethan. Wasn't I?

I would do anything for Ethan. Even this. I’d run out of options, and that wasn't an exaggeration.

I blinked back the tears in my eyes as I thought of my mom. What would she think of what I was doing? And Dad? I knew, and I still pushed it to the back of my mind.

What else could I do? I was a single mother, unemployed, living in homeless shelters. Eighteen months ago, we’d all lived in San Fernando Valley in a small cottage. It was perfect.

Then, Mom’d gotten sick. Diagnosis: pancreatic cancer. It came out of nowhere, surprising all of us.

My dad disappeared bit by bit when he was told his wife of twenty-five years was going to die, that the cancer had advanced to the point where nothing could be done. Both of us had expected to have more time with her, but within three months of her diagnosis, my dad was signing papers for hospice care, a DNR, both of us wondering how we would survive without her.

After her death, I went off the deep end for a while. Not drugs and alcohol deep, but careless behavior. Dad couldn't handle living in the cottage that reminded him so much of her anymore, so we moved to a tiny apartment in San Gabriel Valley. The move, my mom's death, it all caught up to me. To be blunt, I didn't give a damn. I started going to a particular bar in Alhambra, and that's where I met a guy. Desperate for a human connection, comfort, and support, I’d allowed him to convince me to go home with him.

I had been more than a little drunk and barely remembered the sex. I did remember being ordered out of his apartment in the wee hours of the morning though, sober and disgusted with myself.

A month later, I found out I was pregnant.

I kept my secret from my dad as long as I could. Even considered abortion, but quickly discarded that idea, knowing that I would never be able to live with myself if I went through with it. When I began to show, I confessed to my dad. Instead of being angry, he’d been supportive. Disappointed yes, but he promised that together, we would make sure his grandson was well cared for.

My darkest day was six months ago, when he had been killed by a drunk driver as he was crossing the street late one night on the way home from work. It was a hit-and-run. The police never found the culprit. My dad's small life insurance policy was a blessing, but with my mom's medical bills and both their burials to pay for, and my morning sickness causing me to call in sick to work several times, I began to fall behind in the rent payments.

I had been working as a waitress at a popular restaurant chain, dinnertime mostly, but as soon as I began to show, I was put on the lunch shift. Just as I passed the seven-month mark, I lost my job. Not because I was pregnant, but because the franchise owner had defaulted on his loan. The restaurant closed down for an indeterminate time frame, and I was literally up a creek. Despite my best efforts, no one wanted to hire me, especially pushing eight months.

Devastated by the loss of both my parents in such a short time frame, pregnant, and in despair, I had done what I could. It didn't take long for me to realize that in my condition, with a baby on the way, I would never be able to keep up the rent on the apartment, even though it was one of the more affordable complexes in Alhambra.

My landlord had tried to be compassionate, but with four months’ back rent owed and by then a one-month-old baby on my hands with no immediate prospects for employment, I was evicted.

I had no good friends to speak of anymore because of the way my mom’s sickness, then both their deaths, consumed me.

So I packed only the things dearest to me and moved into a homeless shelter, eventually ending up in the south end of the Los Feliz neighborhood, close to Griffith Park. I liked to walk there, pushing Ethan in a borrowed stroller.

I picked up a few odd jobs, part time and temporary, some only lasting a week or two. Part of my paycheck went to pay a fee for the attached daycare center. While it was certainly more reasonable than a regular day care center would've charged, I couldn't, and didn't want to accept more handouts than absolutely necessary. I had to do my part to get back on my feet.

Which was why, when Kelli Spencer appeared that day, I even considered the proposition.

"It's a job," I said softly under my breath as my heart thundered in my chest. "It's just a job. It's a job."

Desperate people did desperate things. And I was desperate.

I wasn't sure if I'd lost my mind or if I could truly consider this one of the best opportunities I would ever have to make some good money. To finally provide a roof over my head, over my son's head, without having to worry about being tossed out when the next month's rent payment was due.

I’d needed to provide for my son. Living in a homeless shelter, looking for work, and finding that nearly impossible with a small baby to take care of had only emphasized my sense of hopelessness. Of helplessness.

That first day, I noticed two women dropping off a pile of clothes. Ethan had been wailing and had drawn their attention, and one had begun cooing over him. Every once in a while, people came to volunteer at the shelter, delivering home-cooked meals, donating clothes, some offering temporary employment. While I certainly appreciated such gestures from the community, it was hard not to ignore the looks of pity or judgment that often came from such volunteers.

Right away, I could tell that Kelli had not come of her own free will, that she didn't want to be there. Arms crossed, chin lifted, she gazed silently at the well-worn furniture that furnished the main room downstairs in the old Victorian that had been converted into a homeless shelter for women with children under the age of fifteen.

I thought I recognized her, but it wasn't until she introduced herself that I realized who she was. Kelli Spencer was a supermodel, one whose face graced billboards, whose image I had seen on the covers of magazines advertising everything from lingerie to expensive perfume.

I wondered what she was doing there—probably a photo op, some type of promotional gimmick dreamed up by her agent. My curiosity grew as I noticed her staring at me throughout the afternoon, and even more so when Ethan stopped his screaming and worked his charm on every person who passed through the room.

Blinking, I focused on Kelli’s door in front of me, forced my hand to knock, my mouth dry, head spinning. You're crazy, you're crazy, you're crazy, was the mantra that had repeated in my head since I’d left Ethan at the shelter’s daycare.

The door opened and there stood the beautiful model, offering me one of the smiles that didn't quite reach her eyes. A polite smile, one that would be offered to someone who worked for you, not a friend, or confident, or associate.

"I wasn't quite sure you would make it," she said. "Please, come in."

“Thanks.” I stepped into her apartment, taking in the high-end furniture, highly polished wood floors and expensive-looking fabric of the set of couches.

Shutting the door and locking it, Kelli frowned around at the living room. “Sorry about the place. I’ve had to sell several key pieces.” Kelli had told me that her breakup with Joel Farrell caused her some financial distress, but her apartment certainly didn't show it. I wondered why any relationship would affect her financially. She was a well-paid, popular model. Then again, I wondered if she was living beyond her means. Maybe she just had good credit.

"You have a nice apartment," I said, still standing awkwardly near the door.

"Have a seat anywhere you'd like." She gestured toward the living space.

I sat gingerly, trying not to finger the silky-smooth material as Kelli launched into her spiel. I still didn't understand what kind of job Kelli wanted to hire me for, but she’d asked me to meet her here to finalize the plans, and so here I was. I was so tense, the muscles in my legs and back were so stiff I knew I’d be sore later. I didn't want to leave Ethan too long. I'd stay long enough to find out exactly what I was supposed to do. I needed the money. God help me, I needed the money, so at this point, I was willing to do just about anything.

“What was it you wanted to discuss? I’m afraid I wasn’t clear about the employment you offered yesterday.”

Kelli smiled a cold, satisfied smile, her sapphire-blue eyes sparkling, and took a deep breath. “You won’t be doing anything wrong, I just want you to pretend that Ethan is my former boyfriend, Joel's, baby so that I can get back together with him. That's all.”

She nodded as the room swayed and dipped in front of me. Oh my god. I recoiled, disgust turning the nausea into acid in my stomach at the thought of using my innocent baby in such a scheme. I shot up off the couch. “What?”

Kelli held out a hand, a glint of desperation in her eyes. “I have a plan that will allow you to still be near Ethan and that will benefit you financially. If you’ll hear me out, I think you’ll be quite happy. I love Joel Farrell with everything I am and desperately want to reconcile with him and marry him. I need a way to convince him that he was wrong about me.”

I wavered there on my feet, and finally sat again, but mostly because my pulse was pounding so hard I was afraid I was going to pass out and plummet straight through her glass coffee table. How would lying about Ethan convince Joel he was wrong about Kelli?

Kelli told me a little bit about their history, about how she had met Joel at a fashion show. I'd never really known guys to be interested in fashion shows, but didn’t have a chance to bring it up. “At any rate, we clicked, began to date and went out quite a bit, and before I knew it, we were an item in the local gossip rags.”

I nodded politely, counting the minutes until I could escape out the door, trying to push back the disappointment of another job lead destroyed.

Kelli’s gaze took on a faraway look. “Joel cheated on me with another woman, and when I caught him, he threw me out of his mansion. It’s been a year and I haven’t been able to move on. I want back in his life. With your three-month-old son, it would give me the open door I need.”

I frowned, trying to make sense of what she was saying. She wanted… then it penetrated fully. “You want to tell Joel that Ethan’s his? But that’s crazy!" Crazy aside, I couldn't figure out why a woman like her would want to get back with a guy who had cheated on her and then kicked her out. What a jerk!

Then again, some guys were like that. I’d had my own experience to vouch for that. A drunken evening, a quick romp in bed, and being told to literally "get out" at three o’clock in the morning. Resentment turned into a sour taste in my mouth. Were all guys such bastards? What gave them the right to treat women like that? Then again, I could've said no. And I had no idea what Kelli and Joel's relationship had been like, or the circumstances of their breakup. Frankly, it was none of my business, and I certainly wasn't in any position to judge.

Kelli leaned closer, talking animatedly. “I’ll arrange for you to be Ethan's nanny. Joel’s a billionaire, he can afford it. He’s a computer genius, owns his own company, and has a massive mansion in the city. You’ll, of course, get to live there for the duration. I’ll pay you twenty thousand dollars to complete the job.”

I had my doubts. It sounded like a crazy idea, but how many options did I have?

Twenty thousand dollars.

Enough money to set my son and I up for years if I was frugal. I could take him to a true daycare, go back to school, get a degree… I wanted to go to nursing school. After seeing the way the nurses and doctors cared for my mom during her illness, I found the idea intriguing. An honorable profession.

It was wrong, but I knew. I was going to do this.

Kelli wanted her old life back with Joel, and I needed to make sure that Ethan's future was secured. That's all that mattered. If this plan worked, we both got what we wanted. I wasn't materialistic. I just wanted enough money to know that Ethan and I could take care of ourselves. It looked like Kelli had a certain lifestyle that she aspired to and was willing to do just about anything to maintain. It wasn't really my concern why she wanted to go back to a guy who had treated her so badly. I pitied her, but I kept my feelings and opinions to myself.

"So we have a deal?" Kelli asked, extending her hand.

I hesitated only a second before extending my hand as well. "Deal."

We shook on it and then she reached for a checkbook laying on the glass and chrome coffee table. She wrote me out a check, “A down payment,” she said. She’d make regular payments throughout the culmination of "the plan."

"I've opened an account in your name at a bank not far from Joel's house. It'll be convenient for you. You can deposit the check today if you'd like."

I jerked, put back by her apparent surety that I would go along with her plan before we’d even discussed it. The I glanced at the check and barely restrained my gasp. Any sense of guilt disappeared, replaced by a relief that was nearly overwhelming. I quickly glanced away, blinking back tears.

I held a check for ten grand in my hand. This was real.

From that moment, I decided that I would give this plan of Kelli's everything I had. I felt upbeat for the first time in a long, long time. For the first time in more months than I could count, a surge of hope welled that couldn’t be crushed by the next hard blow. That surge of hope was enough to rationalize away any moral objections.