The Billionaire's Surrogacy Rule

Daisy's POV

Shaking my waist to the loud sound of music is what I do to take away the pain and sadness I always feel.

But today, shaking my waist, twirling, turning, and shouting aren't solving any of my problems. The pain isn't going away either.

I am thinking drinking myself to a stupor will help but nothing is working.

Right now, all I feel like doing is letting it all out. Crying it out. Then maybe I will feel better.

The moment I stop dancing and turn to find my way to the bathroom, my eyes meet with a guy.

This is the same guy who has had his eyes on me for over thirty minutes since I have been doing nothing but dancing to end my sorrows.

I am not here for a man. I am here to drink and take my sorrows away and also find somewhere to sleep.

My legs almost give me away as I find myself staggering towards the bathroom of the club, ignoring the man with the burning gaze.

My eyes burn with hot tears, willing to push their way down my face, to let out the pent-up anger, anguish, and frustration I have been feeling for years.

My two palms are forced to hit the wall so I can regain my balance and stop myself from falling all over the place.

Taking deep breaths, pushing back the tears brimming in my eyes, I blink several times to get back my real sight which has been messed up with the too-many intake of alcohol I took downstairs.

Nothing seems to be working. Especially not the fact that I have a test tomorrow. The mere thought of the test makes my heart heavy. This was why I resorted to drinking and clubbing.

I wanted to drink to a stupor. 

I have no home to go to and now I am going to be thrown out of school if I don't find my fees before the end of the week. 

All because of one single mistake. The mistake of my parents. The mistakes bring nothing but bad memories.

I don't want to say I hate the two people who should be referred to as my parents but I don't like them either. They are responsible for this horrible and miserable life that I am living.

At this point, I can no longer hold it in anymore because tears begin to roll down my eyes before I know it but I am quick to suck in my sob, forcefully pushing it back from escaping my tightly closed mouth.

I am doomed.

I can't survive this. I can't survive being a school dropout and homeless at the same time. I can't continue with this pathetic life. I am done trying.

I have tried to look for a job somewhere to save my ass but I guess Mrs. B is bent on ruining me completely.

Since she sacked me, I haven't been able to secure a job anywhere else. Everyone knows her and everyone is trying not to employ me in order not to incur her wrath.

I want to give up. Going to heaven or hell or wherever it is that my parents are to give them a piece of my mind won't be a bad idea, will it?

They ought to take responsibility for their mistakes. I can't be the one suffering for this when I am the most innocent of all.

I didn't stoop so low to go into prostitution as Brenda did. I couldn't do it. Not because I didn't need the money but because I respect my body.

I respect my dignity.

But now, I am left thinking of that as the only chance to live again. If I ever change my mind about living again, then working with Brenda would be the best idea.

After all, this is why she stopped being my best friend.

All I need to do is get rid of my virginity, and my innocence and clothe myself with full confidence charged enough to begin a world I can never be proud of.

A sob escapes my mouth instantly and my hands find the doorknob of the bathroom.

"No!" My voice breaks as I try to wipe my tears so I won't fall. "No!"

I don't know if the word coming out of my mouth is the response to the idea of becoming a slut or because I am too pressed.

My right hand finds its way to my trousers, to zip them down. The door is thrown open and I rush into the first available toilet so I won't let the liquid dampen the third surviving trousers.

I sit hurriedly in the water closet and let out a deep sigh of relief as the liquid comes out of me, making a long hissing sound till it feels like my bladder is empty.

Another sigh leaves my mouth and I close my eyes.

Instead of getting up and cleaning myself up so I can leave and find the best solution to my current problem, I sit still, lost in thought, pondering on what to do and where to go.

It is already late at night. I used to work in the restaurant nearby and I only earn $500 per month.

It isn't enough to pay my bills but I have no choice but to just stick to it till a better offer comes. A better offer never came except selling my body to get what I want like Brenda advised me.

Brenda now owns a car and lives in a big well-furnished apartment with the other girls and here I am, still suffering from the mistakes of my parents and being miserable.

Just this morning, I was sent out of my apartment because I haven't paid my rent for over 6 months. Nothing seems to be working in my way.

I don't have one problem. I have many which money will definitely solve.

I really do not know why Mrs. B fired me but I have a feeling it has to do with her son. The prodigal son eventually came home after several years of being away.

He has eyes for me but I bluntly and politely rejected him. He was not only surprised that I rejected him, his ego was bruised that I did.

Without a word, he left my presence and I didn't see him again until the very day I was fired from work.

He was watching his mother lash out at me and he watched me plead with her without interfering. His face was expressionless so I couldn't guess if he was responsible or not.

How the hell can he come from nowhere to send me away after several years of service to the restaurant?

Who the hell does he think he is?

Is this how all rich people behave? They don't care about the poor and even if they do, they end up looking down on them and making them feel inferior.

Alex is nothing but a jerk for doing this to me.

Suddenly, a sob cracks me up again and I find myself opening my eyes and letting wails of anguish leave my mouth.

The anger is back. The pain. 

The hurt. The suffering.

The emotions hit each other in a whirlwind inside of me because my wails keep increasing with each passing second.

I hope this will help.

I can't remember the last time I cried this way. I have been so strong. For so long. Now I can't help it. 

Crying seems to be the only thing to do at the moment. There is no solution for me. Crying will help me feel better. It will let the anger out.

Maybe I should spend the night here. In this toilet and then leave first thing tomorrow morning.

I facepalm myself, crying loudly into my palms. The taste of my tears does nothing to placate my frustrations.

Somewhere in the background, I hear the sound of water flushing down the water closet and I need no soothsayer to tell me it is from the bathroom next to me.

Someone is in there. Someone must have heard me crying.

Instead of stopping my tears for fear of being interrogated for crying like a baby in the restroom, my tears increase, my wails become louder than ever before and I find myself crawling out of the toilet without cleaning up.