The Billionaire's Surrogate

Emily's POV

The gloomy glare of the overhead lights fills the waiting room. I can hear them above me, the small zaps of electricity going from one light to the next. They certainly skimped on the decor for a hospital owned by a billionaire.

A nurse approaches me. She looks at her file through her way too thick glasses.

"Miss Adams?" she inquires hurriedly.

She motions for me to follow her, and I nod. She leads me down a long corridor, her heels clicking on the floor as I trail behind.

We come to a halt in front of a room with the words "Kidney Dialysis" printed above the door. My brother, Liam, is inside, hooked up to a dialysis machine. His doctor, a huge man with bulging eyes and a waistline to match, stands behind him.

"Ah, Miss Adams," he says as he shakes my hand firmly. "My name is Dr. Brook, and I'll be Liam's doctor while he's here at Saving Grace Hospital. As you are aware, dialysis does not appear to be working for Liam. And you don't present as a suitable donor because you're not related by blood," Dr. Brook says.

"So, Doctor, what do you recommend as the next step?" I inquire, my gaze fixed on Liam.

He appears pale, almost iridescent; I have the impression that if I held a magnifying glass next to his skin, I would be able to see the blood rushing through his veins.

"I recommend that we start him on antibiotics and then have the cysts removed surgically. We're hoping to find a donor following the surgery."

"Please don't be concerned, Emily. I'll be fine," Liam says, his voice scratchy. His lips are cracking, and his brown eyes beg me to listen. "We'll come up with a plan," he says.

Liam means that we don't have enough money to pay for his operation. Our health insurance expired several months ago. We went bankrupt from kidney dialysis alone. And now we have a stack of bills and final demand letters. My waitressing job isn't enough to support both of us--we can barely keep the lights on in our flat.

I'm only 22 years old and have no official qualifications. I dropped out of college while studying visual arts, expecting to find my way back. My aspirations and funds had run out after two years. Liam is my top focus right now.

Dr. Brook and the nurse walk out of the ward. I walk over to the large bay window and take a seat. The sun begins to set, lighting the sky with a spectacular orange blaze. This was always my favorite time of day. It now only reminds me of sorrow.

I close the blinds and take a seat next to Liam. He's slept off, his faint breaths making his chest to heave up and down. He appears to be smaller.

On my walk home that night, I reminisced about Liam when he was still healthy. He was always an active kid, and seeing him strapped to that machine crushes my heart.

My phone rings as I climb up the small stairs to my apartment, it's Olivia. 

"Hey, how did it go?" In a low, sad voice, she inquires,

I open the cold, empty apartment door and slump into a worn-out armchair.

"Not so good. He needs surgery, and he needs a donor, like, tomorrow, I really don't know what to do," I sob, needling the pillow that Aunt Evelyn bought as a housewarming gift.

"How about your health insurance? Isn't that enough to cover some of the expenses?" Before I can speak, she has already figured out the answer. "How about if I come over? We can drink some cheap wine and I'll get some sushi from the place around the corner," she proposes loudly.

"I don't think I'll be good company," I admit, my eyes welling up with tears. "I think you should go have some fun. Spend your time with your fun friends, not with me," I joke. "Go get laid. Make poor life decisions and live with the consequences."

She chuckles. "No, that was done last weekend. Wasn't it a lot of fun? I have the STI to prove it." She jokes back.

We both start laughing, and she tries one more time to entice me.

"We could get shitfaced drunk, find a seedy bar, and you could lose your virginity in a toilet stall, it'll be epic," she mumbles before hiccupping.

Olivia, it appears, has a head start and is probably two beers in.

"No problem, I'm fine. I need to tidy up and take out the garbage. I'll only get in the way." I say.

"All right, but promise not to mope. When you mope, your mind goes crazy, and you panic," she begs.

I respond with a promise and end the call.

I'm sitting alone with my thoughts right now. The one that bothers me the most is how I'm supposed to pay for Liam's operation. We're like dogs who won't let go of a bone when more shifts at the restaurant come up. Everyone is in the same situation, and we're all struggling to make ends meet.

I feel so sorry for taking him from his old school, his old classmates, and Aunt Evelyn. Every now and then, I wonder if he would have had better treatment and a better shot in life if I had left him. If I lose him, I will have failed him as his older sister. I'm the one who is meant to guard and keep him safe, yet I'm incapable of doing so. Now it's late-night trips to the ER or me holding him in bed as he writhes in pain which had become the new normal.

I open my laptop and pour myself leftover wine from last night. There has to be something out there that will keep us afloat for the time being. Scrolling through Craigslist becomes a headache... Perhaps it's the wine.

I'm already two hours in when I go through the "escorts wanted" listings. Then I notice an advertisement that says:

"Surrogate Needed. Will be well compensated. Complete discretion is required. Fill out the form below."

The blood rushes to my brain, and I feel a tingling sensation as the synapses begin to connect. Who would put anything like this on their list? I burst out laughing and ask aloud, "Universe, are you playing a trick on me?"

The email address is from a normal G***l account, so it has to be a prank, right? But a part of me wonders, "What if it's real?"

I was looking for work as an escort just now. This is essentially one step below the depths of desperation I will reach.

With nothing to lose, I type a quick reply and hit "send."