Nine months under his roof

Rain hammered violently against the hospital windows, relentless and heavy, as though the sky itself had decided to collapse.

 Inside the narrow hallway, Aubrey Lane stood frozen under the luminescent white light, staring at the bill in her trembling hands.

$300,000.

The number didn’t look real. It looked like something printed by mistake. Like it was for someone else who could actually afford such money.

Her fingers tightened around the edges of the bill until the paper crumpled slightly. 

Her vision blurred.

Not from the rain outside, but from the tears threatening to fall from her eyes as they quivered helplessly.

“Miss Lane,” the doctor said carefully stepping closer. His voice was gentle,practiced, like he had done this too many times before. “Your mother needs immediate surgery. Any further delay could lead to significant risks and complications”.

Risk.

Complications.

Her mother's death.

Each word hit hard against her chest.

Aubrey swallowed hard, her throat dry. She forced a weak nod through her tears. There was nothing she could say or do anyway. Nothing she could promise.

Her mother was lying in a hospital bed in the next room, unconscious, fragile, dependent on machines that beeped softly like they were counting the days left.

And Aubrey had nothing.

No savings. No family support. No plan B. Nothing!

Just a part-time café job that barely covered rent in her tiny apartment on the edge of the city. Just overdue bills stacked in drawers she didn’t open anymore. Just a landlord who was already at his wits end. Just an almost due file she had received few weeks ago about the student loan she had borrowed from the bank few years ago to see herself through school.

She turned and walked out the door before the doctor would say anything worse. What was worse than the situation she was already in anyway.

The hospital hallway felt endless.

Each step heavier than the last.

When she finally reached the end, she leaned against the cold wall as she tried to steady her breathing. Her chest tightened painfully as realization dawned on her.

How?

How and where was she supposed to get that kind of money?

Her mother was all she had left. After her parents divorced when she was twelve,and her father didn't even bother to ask for her custody,it had always been just the two of them—late-night laughter over cheap meals and whispered dreams about better days that never seemed to arrive.

And now the only thing she had left in the world was gradually slipping away.

Aubrey closed her eyes.

“I can’t lose her,” she whispered, voice breaking in the empty corridor.

Her phone vibrated.

Once.

Then again.

She blinked rapidly as she wiped her face with the back of her hand. The screen lit up.

UNKNOWN NUMBER.

She hesitated.

She wanted to ignore it. Wanted to walk away. Wanted to pretend nothing existed outside this hospital, this bill, this impossible weight that she just couldn't lift off of her shoulders.

But something—desperation, curiosity, exhaustion—made her answer.

“Hello?” She hated how her voice shook.

A pause.

Then a calm, controlled female voice responded.

“Miss Aubrey Lane?”

“Yes?”

“My name is Denise. I work for Mr. Killian Frost.”

Aubrey frowned instantly.

That name meant nothing and everything at the same time.

Killian Frost.

Even people who didn’t follow business news knew it. Ruthless Billionaire CEO. Tech empire. Media silence. A man spoken about in headlines like a myth rather than a person. Powerful. Untouchable. The kind of man whose presence alone made his board members shift in their seats.

“What does he want with me?” she asked slowly.

Another pause.

“There is a proposal Mr. Frost believes may interest you.”

Aubrey straightened slightly, suspicion rising.

“What kind of proposal?”

Silence again.

Then the words came, measured and precise.

“A surrogacy contract.”

The phone nearly slipped from her hand.

“What?!” Her voice echoed louder than she intended.

Denise remained unmoved, ignoring her scream.

“You would be carrying a child on behalf of Mr. Frost under a legal agreement. Full medical supervision will be provided. All expenses covered.”

Aubrey's mind spun.

This had to be a mistake. A cruel joke. A prank call or something.

“I think you have the wrong person,” she said quickly. “I know nothing about this.”

“We are aware of your financial situation,” Denise replied unfazed.

Aubrey froze.

Her stomach churned.

“What… what does that mean?”

A soft exhale on the other end.

“You will be compensated five million dollars upon completion.”

The world stopped. She was speechless.

Five million.

The words didn’t make sense at first. Her brain refused to process them. Nothing was adding up. It was too large, too unreal, too far removed from anything she had ever experienced.

Five million dollars.

Enough to pay the hospital bill. Enough to secure her mother’s surgery. Enough to wipe away every overdue notice, every eviction warning, every debt she owed.

But it felt too dangerous.

Too convenient.

Too precise.

“But why me?” she asked in a whisper.

Denise didn’t answer immediately.

“You were selected after careful evaluation.”

“Careful evaluation, what does that mean”,she asked brows raised.

“Thats the only answer I can give you for now, Miss Lane”

Aubrey pressed her free hand against her forehead, trying to make out what was going on. The hallway suddenly felt too bright, too loud, too unreal.

“This is insane,” she whispered.

“Miss Lane,” Denise said gently, almost professionally detached, “you have twenty-four hours to decide.”

A pause.

“A car will arrive tomorrow morning if you choose to proceed.”

Then the line went dead.

Aubrey stood completely still.

The phone slowly lowered in her hand.

Around her, the hospital continued as if nothing had changed. As if she was not just offered 5 million dollars for her womb.

But Aubrey couldn’t move.

Five million dollars.

For nine months.

For a decision that would change her financial situation.

“Don't you quit on me,baby” she reminisced as her mother’s voice flashed in her mind—pale, fragile, unconscious. 

The memory of her hand slipping weaker each day in Aubrey's grip. The doctor’s warning. The bill.

$300,000.

It mocked her now.

She slid down the wall slowly on her back until she was sitting on the cold floor, her knees straddled to her chest.

What kind of man makes an offer like that?

And what kind of person would she become if she refused?

Thunder rolled again outside, louder this time, making her jump up to her feet.

Arielle closed her eyes.

Five million dollars.

A door she never knew existed had just opened in front of her.

And behind it… nothing felt certain anymore.