REBORN AS THE BILLIONAIRE’s Surrogate

Amelia’s pov

The monitor beside my bed stopped beeping an hour ago. I stared at the ceiling tiles, counting the water stains because counting was easier than feeling the emptiness spreading through my stomach. My hospital gown stuck to my back with sweat. Somewhere down the hall, a baby was crying, healthy lungs, strong cries, and I pressed my hand against my own flat stomach and felt nothing where something used to be.

The door opened, not my husband. A nurse, clipboard in hand, avoiding my eyes.

“Mrs. Vale, I need to check your vitals.”“Where’s my husband?” Where was Gregory, the man I’d married four years ago, the man whose name I now carried like a weight instead of a gift.

Her fingers fumbled with the blood pressure cuff. “I… I’m not sure, ma’am.” I already knew I’d known since the ambulance ride, since I’d texted him from the gurney and watched the message sit there, delivered, unread. Board meeting. It was always the board meeting, being Gregory Vale’s wife meant competing with a company for a man’s attention, and the company always won.

Third loss, Four years I curled onto my side and let myself cry the way I hadn’t allowed in front of the doctors, silent, shoulders shaking, my fist pressed against my mouth so no one outside would hear.

That was when Helena walked in. My mother-in-law. Gregory’s mother, and the closest thing the Vale family had to a queen.

She stood in the doorway for a long moment before stepping inside, her heels clicking against the tile with unbearable precision.

She didn’t sit, she didn’t touch me. She looked at me the way someone looks at a stain they’re deciding whether it’s worth the effort of cleaning.

“I heard there was a reporter.”

I wiped my face with the back of my hand. “Where’s Gregory?”

“Handling something that actually matters.” Her tone was flat, almost bored. “You should be more careful with reporters, Amelia. Every headline about this family’s failure to produce an heir is a headline that costs us money.”

“I just lost my baby.”

“You lost a pregnancy.” She said it like a correction, like I’d gotten a fact wrong on a test. “There’s a difference a pregnancy is potential, What you keep losing is potential. Three times now.”

I sat up despite the dizziness, despite the IV pulling at my arm. “Do you have any idea what you sound like right now?”

“I sound like someone who understands what’s actually at stake here.” She moved closer, and for one disorienting second I thought she might soften, might reach for my hand. Instead she straightened the blanket at the foot of the bed. “The Vale name doesn’t survive on love, dear. It survives on lineage, and right now you are failing to provide one.”

“I’m trying,” I whispered.

“Trying isn’t producing.” She picked up her purse from the chair, “A womb that can’t hold an heir isn’t a wife. It’s a liability. I’d think about that, if I were you, before you decide to cry in front of any more reporters.”

She left without another word. Her perfume lingered long after the door clicked shut.

I sat frozen, staring at the space where she’d been standing, my chest rising and falling too fast. I reached for my phone with shaking hands and called my husband. It rang four times before going to voicemail.

I tried once more.

This time it picked up.

“Amelia, I’m in the middle of something.” His voice was clipped, distracted, papers rustling somewhere behind him.

“I lost the baby, Gregory.”

Silence. Not the silence of shock. The silence of a man doing math in his head, calculating how much time he could spare before returning to whatever mattered more.

“I know. Helena texted me.” A pause. “I’m sorry, Ameli, I’ll try to come by tonight.”

“Try?”

“I have investors here, I can’t just walk out, you know how important this quarter is for the company.”

My throat tightened around every word I wanted to scream at him. Instead what came out was small “I almost died having your child. Three times.”

“Don’t do this right now.” Something in his voice sharpened, defensive. “I have to go.”

The call ended before I could respond, I lowered the phone slowly, staring at the black screen like it might still give me something, an apology, a single ounce of warmth, anything.

Nothing came.

I pressed my palm flat against my stomach again, feeling the hollow ache where hope used to sit, and let the tears fall freely now that there was no one left in the room to perform strength for.

The door creaked open again.

“Oh my god, Amelia.”

Evelyn rushed in, dropping her bag by the chair, climbing straight onto the edge of the bed to wrap her arms around me. My younger sister, the only family I had left besides the one I’d married into, the one person who still showed up. I melted into the hug immediately, burying my face into her shoulder, my whole body shaking with the release of everything I’d been holding back.

“I got here as fast as I could,” she murmured against my hair, rubbing slow circles on my back. “I’m so sorry, I’m so, so sorry.”

“He didn’t come,” I choked out between breaths. “Gregory didn’t even come.”

“I know, sweetheart, I know.” She pulled back just enough to wipe the tears from my cheeks with her thumbs, her expression soft, wounded, achingly gentle. “You have me though. No matter what happens with him, you’ll always have me.”

I nodded, gripping her hand like it was the only solid thing left in the world.

That was when her phone lit up on the chair beside my bag, screen facing me, one line of a text visible above the fold.

Did she drink the tea yet?

The name above it read Helena.

Evelyn followed my eyes a half second too late, she reached over, unhurried, and turned the phone face down like she was doing nothing more than silencing a notification.

“Who’s that?” I asked, my voice still thick with tears.

She smiled at me, soft and steady, like nothing in the world was wrong.

“Nobody important.”