The Billionaire’s Surrogate Twins

Five million dollars!!!! she screamed.

She pulled the printed advertisement from her bag for the tenth thousand times, the edges already worn from being folded and unfolded a dozen times. "SEEKING SURROGATE MOTHER. Substantial compensation. Complete confidentiality required. Serious inquiries only."

Five million wasn’t a number that belonged in Mia's world. Her world consisted of nursing textbooks with coffee stains, fourteen-hour shifts at the hospital and the diner, and a cramped apartment where she'd converted the living room into her brother's recovery space. Five million dollars could fix everything. It could fix Danny.

The fertility clinic's waiting room smelled like expensive hand soap and quiet desperation. Mia Chen sat in a leather chair that probably cost more than her monthly rent, her phone buzzing insistently in her pocket.

She ignored it, she already knew it was the hospital calling about her brother's medical bills.

"Ms. Chen?"

Mia looked up. A woman in scrubs held a clipboard, her expression professionally neutral. Mia stood, smoothing down her jeans, her only pair without a hole in the knee and followed her down a hallway lined with photos of smiling families.

Dr. Marcus Reid's office was everything the waiting room had been; all soft colors and leather, with floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking downtown. He stood when she entered, offering his hand with a practiced smile. He was handsome in a way that suggested expensive hair care and a personal trainer, probably in his mid-forties.

"Mia. What a lovely name." He gestured for her to sit. "I'm Dr. Reid. I see you've responded to our advertisement."

"Yes." Mia's mouth was dry. "I read about the surrogacy position."

"Tell me about yourself first. Before we discuss the arrangement."

She did. She told him about her mother, about the cancer that had eaten through their savings and then their dignity. She told him about Danny, fourteen years old, smart as hell, and now dealing with a spinal cord injury from a car accident that wasn't even his fault, a drunk driver had hit him while he was crossing the street. 

She told him about the rehabilitation facility he needed, the therapy that insurance wouldn't cover, the experimental treatment that might actually help his heart again.

She didn't tell him how scared and desperate she was that she was running out of time.

Dr. Reid listened without interrupting, his expression sympathetic but clinical. When she finished, he folded his hands on his desk.

"You're twenty-four?"

"Yes."

"Healthy?"

"Perfect health. I pass all my hospital physicals."

"Good. That matters." He opened a folder on his desk. "The position I mentioned in the advertisement is for a high-net-worth couple. They've been unable to have children naturally. 

They're looking for a woman who's intelligent, physically healthy, and most importantly, someone who understands the importance of discretion."

Mia nodded slowly. "Discretion."

"Absolute discretion. This couple is extremely private. They require that you sign a comprehensive non-disclosure agreement. You won't discuss the arrangement with anyone, not friends, not family, not your medical providers. The payment is substantial because the terms are strict."

Five million dollars for keeping quiet. For nine months of her body not being her own.

"I understand," Mia said.

"The arrangement would be as follows: You would carry the pregnancy to term. You would live in the couple's home during that period for their peace of mind and to ensure proper prenatal care. After delivery, you would have no further contact with the child or the family. 

The legal documentation will make it clear that the child belongs entirely to them, biologically and in every other way that matters."

He slid a contract across the desk. It was thick, intimidating, full of legal language that made her head spin.

"Look it over, have an attorney review it if you'd like. But I should mention that the couple is very selective. They're interviewing three other candidates this week. If you're interested, you'll need to provide your answer quickly."

Three other candidates. Three other desperate women who probably had their own sick relatives, their own impossible situations.

"I need the money," Mia said quietly. "My brother needs surgery. Expensive surgery. And physical therapy. I've already used up everything, savings, loans, credit cards. This is the only way."

Dr. Reid didn't look surprised. He'd probably heard versions of this story a hundred times. "I understand. And I want you to know, from a medical standpoint, you're an excellent candidate. You're young, healthy, no genetic complications.

The couple would be lucky to have you."

He stood, signaling the end of the meeting. "Take the contract home. Read it carefully. Call me by Friday with your decision."

Mia took the folder, her hands trembling slightly. As she stood to leave, Dr. Reid added one more thing: 

"Oh, and Mia? When you meet the couple, it's important that you seem... stable. Emotionally balanced. They need to feel confident that you won't develop an attachment to the pregnancy or attempt to contact them afterward. 

They've had bad experiences with surrogates before."

She nodded, understanding the unspoken message: Don't seem desperate. Don't seem like you might change your mind. Don't seem human.

The drive back to her apartment took forty minutes. Mia kept the contract on the passenger seat, unable to stop glancing at it.

Five million dollars. It felt like cheating, like finding money on the street. It felt like the only real option she'd ever had.

Her apartment was small, a one-bedroom that she'd transformed into a two-bedroom through sheer will and IKEA furniture. Danny was in his wheelchair by the window, schoolbooks spread across a lap desk. He looked up when she came in.

"How'd it go?"

She hadn't told him everything about this interview. He knew she was looking at options, but he didn't know about the Five million dollars. Danny worried too much about her already,had too much guilt about his accident.

"Good," she said, dropping her bag by the door. "Really good, actually."

"Yeah?" His face brightened. "You're going to do it?"

She hadn't said yes yet, but looking at him at the way he had to sit in that chair, at the way his schoolbooks were all he had because he couldn't get outside? she realized she already had.

"I think so."

Danny grinned, and for the first time in months, Mia saw him look happy. Really happy.

She didn't notice the small envelope that had been slipped under her door until she was about to go to bed. There was no return address, just her name written in handwriting she didn't recognize.

Inside was a single sentence typed on plain paper: "Don't sign anything until you call me."

There was a phone number below it, but no signature.