The Billionaire's Contracted Surrogate

Sophia's POV

The smell of burnt coffee and disinfectant has become a part of my daily routine. It clung to my clothes, skin, and even the tips of my hair as I rushed down the corridor of St. Mary’s General Hospital, balancing a tray of takeout soup and an envelope with only a few crumpled bills left inside. My sneakers squeaked against the floor, and the nurse at the reception gave me that familiar look of half pity, and half exhaustion.

I’ve seen that look too many times to count.

Room 214.

That’s where my little sister, Eve, has lived for a few months now.

I pushed the door open and was immediately met with the soft beeping of monitors and the sharp scent of medicine. The curtains were half drawn, letting in a dull gray light that pooled over Eve’s small frame. Her skin looked too pale against the hospital sheets, and her hair — once shiny chestnut waves — was now dull and brittle.

“Hey, you’re back,” she said softly, her lips curved into a tired smile.

I tried to smile back. “Of course. You think I’d let my favorite patient have dinner alone?”

She lets out a small, genuine laugh. “You say that because I’m your only patient.”

She tries to sit up, but I rush to help her, adjusting the pillows behind her back. Her fingers trembled as she reached for the soup container.

Eve was diagnosed with aplastic anemia, a rare bone marrow disorder that prevents her body from producing enough blood cells. The doctors say she needs a bone marrow transplant soon. Without it…

I don’t let myself finish that thought.

“How was your day?” I ask instead, trying to sound light.

“Same as always.” She stirs the soup absently. “Blood test, transfusion, Netflix, repeat.”

“You make it sound like a luxury resort.”

She chuckles. “If only.”

I pull a chair closer to her bed and sit, watching her eat. Every spoonful felt like a small victory.

She finished and leaned back with heavy eyelids. “You should go home and rest, Sophie. You look tired.”

“I’m fine.”

“You always say that.”

“And it’s always true.”

She rolled her eyes, too weak to argue. A few minutes later, she's fast asleep, the steady rhythm of her breathing matched the monitor’s hum.

I reached out and held her cold, fragile hand. “I’ll find a way,” I whisper. “I promise, Eve. Whatever it takes.”

*****

By the time I left the hospital, the city was already wearing its night mask — streetlights flickered, buses hissed, and the air carried a faint smell of rain and exhaust fumes. My reflection in a store window looked older than twenty-four.

I sighed.

Maybe exhaustion and grief makes one look older.

Our parents’ accident three years ago took everything from me. One moment, I was a nursing student dreaming about saving lives; the next, I was working three jobs just to keep one life — Eve’s — from slipping away.

The bus was late again today, so I walked. It’s only ten blocks to our apartment, but it feels longer when my feet ache and my mind won’t stop racing. Rent is due, the hospital sent another bill last week. And the doctor hinted that time is running out for Eve without the transplant.

By the time I reach our building — a worn-out complex with peeling paint and a flickering hallway light — I’m running on fumes. The elevator hasn’t worked in months, so I drag myself up three flights of stairs and unlock our door.

Inside, the apartment greets me with silence and the faint smell of detergent. I toss my bag onto the couch and glance at the stack of envelopes on the table — all marked urgent, final notice, or payment due.

Before I can sit, the door bursts open and Cassandra walks in, waving a plastic bag of takeout like a trophy.

“Please tell me you haven’t had dinner yet!” she says, dropping her purse on the couch.

Cassandra is my best friend — the kind of friend who storms into your life and refuses to leave, even when everything’s falling apart. She’s sunshine and blunt honesty rolled into one.

“I was just about to make noodles,” I say weakly.

“Which is exactly why I’m here. No one should live on instant noodles forever.” She hands me a container and kicks off her heels. “You look dead, Soph. How’s Eve?”

I swallow hard. “Tired. The doctor says we need to start preparing for the transplant. But the cost…” My voice trails off.

Cassandra sets her food down and sits beside me. “You’ll find a way. You always do.”

I shake my head. “Not this time. The bills are already drowning me. I don’t even know how we’ll pay for next month’s rent, let alone surgery.”

She hesitates, chewing on her lip, and I can tell she’s about to say something she knows I won’t like.

“Okay, so… don’t freak out,” she begins. “But I might have heard about something that could help.”

I raise an eyebrow. “If it’s another online fundraiser, Cass, we’ve tried—”

“It’s not that.” She leans closer, lowering her voice like we’re plotting a crime. “It’s a private fertility agency. They handle surrogacy arrangements for really rich clients. Like, billionaire rich.”

I blink. “A… surrogacy agency?”

“Yeah. You’d basically be a surrogate for someone who can’t have kids. They pay a fortune, Soph. Like, hundreds of thousands.”

“Hundreds of thousands?” The number hits me like a jolt. “That’s— that’s insane.”

“It’s real,” she insists. “My cousin’s friend did it. She moved out of the country after. You could pay for Eve’s treatment, finish your degree, and start over.”

I stared at her, my pulse racing. “You’re suggesting I carry someone else’s baby?”

“I’m suggesting you save your sister’s life,” Cassandra says quietly. “Just think about it.”

The room goes silent. The refrigerator hummed in the background. Rain starts tapping against the window softly.

“I don’t know if I can do that,” I whisper. “It feels wrong.”

She sighs and takes my hand. “I know. But you’re running out of options, Soph. And maybe this — as crazy as it sounds — is the miracle you’ve been praying for.”

I didn’t answer. I just stared at the food on the table, my appetite was now gone.

After Cassandra left, the apartment felt too quiet again. Her words kept echoing in my mind. Hundreds of thousands. Enough to pay for Eve’s surgery and save her life.

I pulled my knees to my chest and stared at the rain-streaked window. I thought of Eve’s pale face, the way she winces when they draw her blood. The fear that hides behind her jokes. Her life is slipping through my fingers no matter how hard I fight.

Maybe I should give it a try.

I glance at the crumpled business card Cassandra left on the counter.

“Elite Family Planning Agency – Confidential Surrogacy Programs.”

The logo gleamed faintly under the kitchen light. My heart was beating loudly as I traced the embossed letters with my thumb.

I took a deep breath and picked up my phone to dial the number.

“Hello,” a calm female voice answered on the other end, “Elite Family Planning. How may I assist you?”

My fingers trembled. “Hi. My name is Sophia Bennett. I… I heard you’re looking for surrogates.”

There was a short pause, then a professional tone. “Yes, Miss Bennett. We handle exclusive arrangements for our clients. Would you be available to come in for an interview tomorrow morning?”

Tomorrow.

I look around the apartment — at the stack of bills, the photo of me and Eve taped to the fridge, the emptiness that hope hasn’t filled in years.

“Yes,” I whisper, my voice barely audible. “I’ll be there.”

“Alright then. See you tomorrow at 9 am.” The call ended.

By the time I slipped into my worn out pajamas and crawled under the thin blanket, exhaustion had weighed me down like a second skin. It’s been a long day—between work, and the hospital. I feel like I’ve lived an entire week in just twenty-four hours.

I closed my eyes, ready to drift into dream land when my phone buzzed on the nightstand. I frown and reach for it, blinking at the screen.

An unknown number.

My brows knit together. This is certainly not the hospital because I already have their number saved, it's probably a wrong call. I set the phone back down.

A few seconds later, it rings again. The same number calling.

I sigh. “Seriously?” I mumble, snatching the phone and swiping to answer. “Hello?”

For a moment, there was only silence.

Then a low breath. I waited a few more seconds but just as I was about to ask who the caller was, the line went dead with a beep.

That's strange.

I tossed the phone onto the bed and fell back on my pillow. I have an interview tomorrow to prepare for, not to bother about random strange callers.