Alexander's POV

The city was barely awake as I stood by the floor-to-ceiling windows of my penthouse, staring at the skyline that stretched beyond the glass. From up here, everything looked small — the cars, the people, even time itself. But I've realized over time that the higher you rise, the lonelier it feels.

My father used to say, “Legacy isn’t built on sentiments, Alexander. It’s built on control.”

He was right.

Now, his words echo in my head.

I'm the heir of Knight Empire, a company that has been my family’s crown. My father built it from hardwork, sweat and blood, and I grew up inside its walls learning how to control it.

But my inheritance came with a condition.

My father’s will was explicit:

“Alexander Knight must produce a legitimate heir within one year of my death to inherit the Knight Empire. Failing to do that, the company shall be transferred to my nephew, Jason Knight.”

Jason.

The name alone left a bitter taste in my mouth. My cousin has always been the family’s parasite — charming on the surface, but rotten underneath. This clause was just my father's way of forcing me to settle down, to “build a family” like a proper heir.

I laughed bitterly at the thought.

A family.

Love.

Those words don’t mean much to me anymore after her.

I walked to the kitchen, poured myself a cup of black coffee, and leaned against the counter. The faint hum of the city below was the only sound in the apartment. I took a slow sip, watching the steam rise and curl, and tried not to think about Caroline.

But her face still flashed in my mind— the smile that used to melt my heart, and her beautiful hazel eyes. We were supposed to get married last year. I even designed a home for her on the coast, overlooking the sea. She said she loved me. But what she loved was my money.

When I found out she was sleeping with one of my business associates, I was completely broken.

I vowed to stay away from women after that experience. I built up my walls, stronger than the ones that surrounded this penthouse. I convinced myself that I don’t need anyone, that the company was enough. Until the lawyer read my father’s will, and time began to tick.

It’s been one month since he passed.

Eleven months left.

Eleven months to produce an heir. The lawyers made it clear: the child must be biologically mine, it'll be confirmed at birth.

Jason knows this, of course. He’s been circling like a vulture, waiting for me to fail. I’ve seen the smug look on his face during board meetings, and the way he smirks every time he sees me. He thinks I’ll never be able to do it — that Alexander Knight, the cold-hearted business man, can’t find a woman willing to bear his child.

But he’s wrong.

A week ago, my best friend and business partner, Ethan Cole, brought a suggestion. His exact words were; “There’s another way, Alex. You don’t need to marry anyone. You just need an heir. Have you considered surrogacy?”

At first, I thought he was joking. The idea of a stranger carrying my child was not something I've thought of. But then, that was the point. It was exactly what I needed. No messy emotions, betrayal or pretenses of love. Just an agreement, a contract.

Ethan gave me the contact of a private agency he’d heard about — Elite Family Planning. It was run by a woman named Gianna Moretti, known for handling high-profile clients without leaks or scandal.

I called her that same evening and within ten minutes, she understood exactly what I needed — a surrogate who met strict health, psychological, and confidentiality criteria. Someone trustworthy, dependable, and emotionally stable. No attachments or complications. She promised she would find the right match.

My phone buzzed on the kitchen counter. I placed my mug down and picked it up to see a text from Gianna.

Gianna: “Good morning, Mr. Knight. We’ve found a candidate that meets all your specifications. Her name is Sophia Bennett. I’d like you to review her profile before proceeding.”

Sophia Bennett.

Me: “Is she aware of my identity?”

Gianna: “No. Only that she’s been pre-selected. She came in for her interview and medical tests yesterday. She's intelligent, healthy, and emotionally grounded. I believe she would be a perfect fit.”

I exhaled slowly.

Me: “Send me the file.”

A few minutes later, an encrypted email appeared in my inbox. I opened it and scrolled through the document.

Sophia Bennett.

Age: 24.

Occupation: Barista, waitress, part-time bookstore clerk.

Education: Two years of college before dropping out.

Medical record: Excellent health.

Psychological evaluation: Resilient, empathetic.

There was a photo attached. It was a simple, non studio-polished one. Brown hair pulled into a messy bun, and piercing blue eyes.

I closed the laptop and ran a hand through my hair, pacing the room.

This was it — my way out. My father’s will didn’t exactly state marriage, only legitimacy. The child would be mine biologically. Sophia Bennett would be compensated generously, and I would secure Knight Empire once and for all.

It was all business.

*****

By eight o’clock, I was at the office.

The top floor of Knight Tower gleamed with its usual perfection — glass walls, polished floors, and the faint hum of the city below. Staff moved quietly, their footsteps making soft thuds against the marble. My father’s portrait still hung in the hallway, his stern gray eyes followed me wherever I went.

I stopped in front of it for a second.

“Are you proud, old man?” I muttered under my breath. “You wanted an heir. You’ll get one.”

Inside my office, sunlight poured through the windows, casting long shadows across the massive oak desk. I loosened my tie and sank into the leather chair, scrolling through the rest of Sophia’s file.

Born and raised in Queens. Lost both parents in a car accident when she was twenty-one. Has a younger sister — Evelyn Bennett — who's currently undergoing treatment for aplastic anemia.

This could be the reason behind her application.

I leaned back, staring at her photo again, trying to imagine her carrying my child.

A knock at the door pulled me out of my thoughts.

“Come in,” I said.

My assistant, Lara, stepped inside. “Good morning sir, a woman named Gianna is here to see you.”

“Send her in.”

A few minutes later, Gianna stepped inside, composed as ever, holding a folder.

“Good morning, Mr. Knight,” she said. “I trust you’ve reviewed Miss Bennett’s file?”

“I have.” I gestured for her to sit. “You seem confident about her.”

“I am.” She placed the folder on my desk. “She’s young but mature for her age. Her medical results came back flawless, and her psychological assessment suggests strong emotional resilience.”

I nodded slowly, flipping the folder open again. “Set up a meeting tomorrow morning, nine o’clock. I'll be there.”

She nodded. “I’ll make the arrangements.”

As she turned to leave, I added quietly, “Gianna.”

She paused, looking back.

“Make sure she understands exactly what she’s agreeing to.”

She nodded. “Of course.”

When the door clicked shut, I exhaled deeply and stared out at the skyline again.

Tomorrow, I will meet the woman who might carry my heir.

The solution to my inheritance.