Search For A Surrogate

Jade's P.O.V

Picking up the first file from the coffee table, I slowly read through it. I scanned the information about one of the potential surrogate mothers, who was sitting directly across from me on the leather sofa, tracking my movements.

I glanced at the woman, and she flashed me a wide, bright smile, shifting her posture with total confidence.

I adjusted the file on my lap, settling back against the cushion to create some professional distance.

“I see here that your blood type is A positive,” I said, more as an observation than a question.

“Oh, yes, it is, Mr. Dantrix,” she replied, leaning forward eagerly. “And might I also add that I have really strong genes?”

My eyes lifted from the file to her face, my expression remaining completely flat.

“Strong genes?” I repeated, questioning her phrasing.

She nodded proudly, tipping her chin up with an air of immense self-assurance.

“My mother had twins, and both my grandmother and great-grandmother also had twins.”

One of my brows arched at the sudden sales pitch.

“That’s impressive, I must say,” I remarked dryly.

“I know it is,” she smiled, clearly believing she had just won me over. “So, if you pick me as your baby’s mother, there’s a good chance you’ll have twins.”

I slowly closed the file and placed it back on the coffee table, the heavy paper tapping against the polished wood.

“Why are you telling me this like it’s some sort of selling point?” I asked, my voice dropping to a direct, businesslike register.

“But of course it is,” she answered. Her brows furrowed with clear displeasure, as though she couldn't comprehend why I wasn't seeing the obvious financial or practical advantage.

“Look, miss, I only need one baby. Not two. Just one,” I explained, keeping my tone completely level.

“But why not?” she asked, looking genuinely confused by my lack of interest. “You could have two for the price of one. Why not take the chance?”

I stared at her for a long moment, letting the sheer absurdity of her logic sink in, before glancing toward the doorway where Brandon was standing.

“Brandon, please show her out and escort the next woman in,” I directed, cutting the meeting short.

“Yes, sir,” he replied, stepping forward immediately.

The woman stood up, smoothing down her skirt, and followed Brandon toward the exit.

“You’re a smart man, Mr. Dantrix,” she said over her shoulder, tossing a lingering look back at me. “I know you’ll definitely pick me.”

The door closed behind her, cutting off her pitch.

If anything, she was certainly overly enthusiastic.

The next woman walked in a moment later, dressed in a crisp jumpsuit that clicked firmly against the floorboards as she approached.

I picked up the next file and glanced at it, scanning the top page.

“I see here that your name is Tina Gray,” I stated, ready to move through the background details.

“Yes, my name is Tina Gray. Tina Hamilton Gray, to be specific,” she corrected, giving a sharp tilt of her head.

I looked down at the file again, checking the official background checks and birth certificates carefully.

“There’s no Hamilton here, Miss Gray,” I noted, pointing to the empty line.

“Maybe whoever organized my file didn't get the proper information,” she replied casually, waving it away with an indifferent shrug.

I let out an inward sigh, keeping my growing frustration tightly under wraps.

This one was going to be difficult.

“Okay, let us get down to business then,” I started, trying to steer the conversation back on track.

But she cut me off before I could even finish the sentence.

“Before we continue, I have a few conditions,” she announced smoothly.

I paused, my pen hovering mid-air right over the notepad.

“What conditions?” I asked, my voice tightening.

“I want full access to our son’s education, his daily life, nutrition, and everything he wears,” she demanded, listing the items off without missing a single beat.

“What?” I muttered.

I stared at her, genuinely shocked by the sheer audacity and absurdity of her request.

“My conditions aren't that complicated, Mr. Dantrix,” she said, looking at me as though I were the unreasonable one in the room. “I'm sure it wouldn't be an issue if you're considering me.”

“Firstly, you're not even sure you're going to have a boy,” I countered, gripping the edges of the folder. “And secondly, that's only if I even pick you.”

“If you don't pick me, then it will be your loss, Mr. Dantrix,” she stated smoothly, completely unfazed.

I stared at her, completely dumbfounded by her entitlement.

She leaned back confidently against the sofa cushions, crossing her arms over her chest.

“The other women waiting outside are uneducated, brainless minxes just waiting to have a taste of your wealth,” she sneered, looking toward the hallway. “But I am different.”

“Right. Sure,” I muttered, dropping her file onto the rejected pile.

I looked up at the doorway. “Brandon, next.”

The woman's lips parted in surprise, her confident smile instantly vanishing, but Brandon appeared at the door a moment later and efficiently escorted her out.

The next woman entered the study wearing a vibrant, flowy gown that trailed behind her. Before I could even introduce myself or open her paperwork, she threw an unexpected question directly at me.

“What are your hobbies?” she asked, walking straight up to the desk.

My brows knitted together in a deep frown.

“My hobbies?” I repeated, blinking.

“Yeah. I want to know what kind of father you'll be,” she explained, tilting her head to analyze me.

I stared at her, completely caught off guard by the sheer boldness of her entry.

“And also what kind of man you'll be as a husband,” she added, offering a casual smile.

“I thought you were here to be a surrogate mother, miss, not my wife,” I replied dryly, setting the unread file flat on the table surface.

She simply smiled and waved a flippant hand through the air.

“You never know. Things happen.”

I didn't waste any more time. I glanced toward the doorway.

“Brandon,” I called.

He immediately appeared, reading the obvious tension in my shoulders.

“I think we're done here,” I stated, rising slightly from my seat to signal the end of the interview.

I turned back to the woman and offered her a tight, completely artificial smile.

“Thank you for your time.”

A few more women came in after her, each one somehow managing to make the previous interview seem completely normal.

One insisted on moving in with me immediately, while another immediately asked about my assets before introducing herself.

By the sixth woman, I was mentally exhausted and dangerously close to losing what little patience I had left for this entire corporate circus.

When the seventh woman finally stepped out of my study, I stood up completely and raked both hands through my hair, trying to ease the tension building in my forehead.

“Tell Meysner I'm done for today,” I told Brandon, my voice flat with sheer exhaustion. “We can continue another day.”

I paused, looking down at the messy heap of applications.

“Or never,” I muttered under my breath.

Brandon gave a quick nod and left immediately to pass on the instruction.