Falling For My Surrogate Mistress

The soft hum of fluorescent lights filled the room as Dr. Hamilton glanced at the chart in her hands. She turned to Fiona Woods with a practiced smile, her voice steady yet kind.

“Ms. Woods, congratulations. You’re eight weeks pregnant!”

The words hit Fiona like a thunderclap. For a moment, she couldn’t move, couldn’t speak. The sterile air of the doctor’s office seemed to thicken, pressing down on her chest.

“What?” she finally whispered, her voice faint. “Pregnant?”

Dr. Hamilton nodded, her smile unwavering but cautious, as if she anticipated resistance. “Yes, eight weeks along.”

Fiona’s mind spun. Eight weeks? How could that be?

She and Darwin Solomon had always been careful. Painstakingly careful. Memories flitted back to his birthday two months ago. A night that began with champagne and laughter, and ended in a fleeting moment of recklessness. Just once, she reminded herself. It was only once.

Her expression must have betrayed her thoughts, because Dr. Hamilton spoke gently. “It’s rare, but sometimes it only takes once. From your records, it seems this wasn’t an easy conception. If you’re considering your options, I’d suggest keeping them in mind.”

The subtle weight of her words settled in Fiona’s chest. She gripped the edge of the examination table, her knuckles white. Was this a blessing or a cruel twist of fate?

When she finally stepped outside, the crisp afternoon air did little to steady her. She stood on the hospital steps, staring blankly at the test results in her trembling hands. The corners of the paper flapped in the breeze, but she didn’t notice. Her thoughts were elsewhere—five years in the past.

The past wasn’t a place Fiona liked to visit often. Five years ago, creditors had pounded on the door of her childhood home. Her grandmother, frail and ailing, needed expensive treatments to stand a chance. Fiona had been drowning in despair when Darwin Solomon walked into her life.

Darwin. The enigmatic CEO of the Atlas Group. He’d appeared like a mirage, offering salvation. A man who had seen in her the shadow of someone else: Lilian Robbins, the woman he had loved with every fiber of his being.

The whispers had been unavoidable. Lilian, the one who abandoned him when he lay comatose, only to marry into a noble family overseas. Fiona had been nothing more than a convenient echo of his lost love.

But in exchange for her mimicry, Darwin had given Fiona everything she needed to survive—money to clear her family’s debts and ensure her grandmother’s treatment. In public, she was his efficient secretary. In private, she was his obedient lover. A role she had played for five long years.

The bitterness that rose in Fiona’s throat now was sharp and familiar. How much longer could she keep this up?

She glanced down at her flat stomach, her fingers brushing against it lightly. The thought that life was growing inside her was both awe-inspiring and terrifying. A life she couldn’t keep.

Fiona arrived back at the Atlas Group’s sleek high-rise that evening, her mind still a storm of conflicted emotions. She barely noticed the receptionist’s cheery greeting or the hum of activity around her as she stepped into the private elevator.

Yesterday, Darwin had returned from a two-week business trip. Unusually, he hadn’t taken her with him. Fiona had assumed he was finally growing tired of her.

She had been glad. Hopeful, even.

But Darwin had surprised her. He hadn’t even let her finish her workday before pulling her into the secretary’s lounge.

Now, as she stood in the same lounge, the memory of their encounter lingered. Her dress and his tailored suit had been carelessly discarded on the sofa. His hands had been demanding, his lips relentless. The moment had left her breathless, dazed.

Darwin’s voice snapped her back to reality. He emerged from the bathroom, crisp and composed, adjusting his cufflinks. Fiona, wincing at the lingering discomfort, handed him his spare suit. She stepped forward to help him with his tie, as she always did.

As her fingers worked the silk fabric into a perfect knot, Darwin studied her with detached approval.

“There’s a check on the table,” he said, his tone casual. “Two million dollars. The villa at Emerald Pool will also be transferred to your name.”

Fiona froze. Her fingers stilled against the knot as she looked up at him, her brows knitting together. “Mr. Solomon...why?”

Darwin’s expression shifted, a flicker of irritation crossing his sharp features. He raised his hand and gently pinched her chin, tilting her face up. “It’s a reward,” he said, his voice cold.

Reward. Or perhaps, Fiona thought bitterly, a prelude to goodbye.

Darwin’s thumb brushed against her swollen lips. “As long as you stay obedient, I’ll give you more.”

Fiona’s lips parted as if to speak, but she caught herself. She schooled her features into the practiced look of demure compliance and nodded. “I understand, Mr. Solomon.”

His irritation evaporated. He nodded in approval and stepped back. “Go home this afternoon.”

Without waiting for her response, Darwin left.

Fiona stared at the check on the table, her fingers curling into fists. Her phone buzzed with a news alert, breaking her trance. She glanced down at the screen and froze.

Breaking News! Atlas Group President Engaged to the Ross Family Heiress!

Her stomach churned violently. Fiona rushed to the bathroom, her nausea boiling over. She leaned over the sink, gasping for air.

The reflection staring back at her was pale and drawn, her makeup smudged. Her lips trembled as she steadied herself against the counter.

She laughed, bitterly and without humor. Darwin Solomon, the man who couldn’t let go of his first love, was preparing to marry a woman of status while keeping her as his mistress.

And now, she was carrying his child.

Her fingers brushed against her stomach again. Tears blurred her vision, but she blinked them away.

“Screw this,” she muttered to her reflection. “Whoever wants to be his substitute can have him.”

This time, she wouldn’t stay. Not for him. Not for anyone.