My Donor, My Love, My CEO

Isla’s POV

All I want is a baby.

That single thought echoed in my mind like a mantra as I stared at my reflection in the bathroom mirror, gripping the cold edge of the sink. I’ve just entered my thirties and time wasn’t exactly on my side. 

The divorce papers were not even finalized yet, but I’d been emotionally checked out long before that.

I wanted more than anything to have a child of my own—something real, something mine. And I was done waiting for the "right time" or the "right person." That ship had sailed.

Which was why I’d turned to Zoey for help. She knew I wasn't looking for another love story. I didn’t have the energy for that kind of heartbreak again. What I needed now was genetics—strong, healthy, no strings attached.

It must be fate that I have a good friend who works at a fertility clinic, I thought ironically. Just perfect.

I needed someone I could trust, someone who understood my desire for discretion and had the resources to help me navigate this delicate process.

I remembered the conversation we’d had a few weeks back, the excitement in her voice as she explained the clinic’s new initiative. “Isla, we just launched the beta phase of this cool donor matching app! It’s really hush-hush and exclusive,” Zoey had said, her eyes sparkling. “All the donors undergo extensive medical testing, and the matches are made based on one’s preferences and other important factors.”

“Nice! I like the sound of that,” I had replied, though at that time it had not yet occurred to me that I would be seeking her help on this. 

I stood in front of the mirror, lost in thought, when a bubbly voice broke through my reverie. “Are you in there? Mr. Scott is here already for the meeting!” It was my assistant Raven. 

I snapped back to reality, suddenly remembering the impending meeting that was about to happen in… I glanced at my watch. Oh, shit. In one minute. Like now. 

I had completely forgotten about the appointment. Mr. Scott was our top supplier, and I needed to impress him if I wanted to keep our magazine’s latest issue on schedule.

“Crap!” I muttered under my breath, hastily grabbing my makeup bag from the counter. I had less than a minute to look presentable. I dabbed on some concealer, trying to hide the dark circles that had formed from sleepless nights spent stressing over my divorce and the future I longed for. 

I quickly smoothed my blouse's collar, tugging it into place while giving my long brown hair a quick toss to tame the loose strands.

Focus, Isla. You’ve got a company to run.

The clock was ticking, and there was no room for distractions. I was the CEO and founder of a successful fashion magazine, and it was time to step back into that role with confidence if I didn’t want our momentum to hit a wall and begin crumbling.

I opened the bathroom door and walked out, straightening my posture and plastering a professional smile on my face. “Let’s get this meeting started,” I said, determined to put everything else on hold, at least for now.

The small conference room was just a short walk from my office, but as I made my way there, my mind refused to stop replaying the events of the past month. I could still see Logan’s infuriatingly handsome face, grinning at me as if I were just playing with him about the divorce. 

Just a month ago, we had sat in that very conference room, discussing the terms of our split. His presence had filled the space, his confidence emanating like a heatwave. 

“Isla,” he had said, leaning back in his chair with a smirk, “you need to be more tolerant of my frequent club visits. Up to now, you’re still getting angry about such?” He had the nerve to chuckle after that. “Remember, our marriage was purely a business arrangement. We should just continue to act like a couple, keep up appearances for the public. You know it’s good for business. No one wants to see headlines about a hostile divorce, especially in a couple that used to make waves in this city.”

Asshole, I couldn’t help thinking then. 

I remembered the frustration mounting in my chest as I fought to maintain my composure. “Logan, I don’t need to pretend anymore. I’m done. I just want this over with.”

But he hadn’t stopped there. His voice had dropped to a more serious tone. “What if I told you that if you realized and admitted you were wrong to suggest this divorce, I’d reconsider the terms of our settlement? You could have a huge percentage of my assets. And… we could make your dream of becoming a mother a reality.”

My mouth had dropped open. He hadn’t changed one bit. “I don’t want your money or your pity,” I shot back, keeping my eyes drilling a hole into his. And I don’t want your genes, either. But I had still been too polite to say it out loud. 

Instead, I’d leaned back on the chair and crossed my arms in front of my chest. “I’m asking my lawyer to proceed with the preparation. I don’t need any of your assets, Logan.”

He’d chuckled, that insufferable laugh that had always gotten under my skin. “Oh, come on. I’ll go easy on you if our businesses end up competing in the future. You know that.” Then he reached out to slightly touch my arm and had the nerve to wink at me and say, “After all, we’ve had some good times, don’t you think?”

I had wanted to slap him. Those days of my foolishness are over. 

As I stepped into the conference room, I shook my head to clear the memories. But I could vividly recall how I’d stood up in an instant and left the room without looking back.  

That was the day I’d called Zoey, the day I’d decided to start fresh and continue to build a bright future for myself — one that didn’t include Logan Barrett. 

“I’m pushing through with the divorce, Zoey,” I’d said to her. “I’m damn sick and tired of Logan. Find me a sperm donor as soon as possible. I’m prepared to offer a very generous compensation.”