The Billionarie's Plus-Size Surrogate Wife

Chapter 1

POV: Amelie

The last tear fell onto the empty baby swaddle. This small room on the outskirts of the village felt far too silent, the kind of silence that suffocated my chest until I felt as though I had forgotten how to breathe.

Only one month ago, the doctor had placed that tiny premature body into my arms. A fragile little body that had been born too soon because I could not withstand the emotional shock when the devastating news arrived. I could still vividly remember how the police had knocked on our door, bringing the news that my husband had died in a work accident at a construction site. My world collapsed in an instant. Severe stress overwhelmed my body, triggering premature labor at eight months of pregnancy.

And now, my baby had followed his father.

My little baby had surrendered to the coldness of the world. However, the most agonizing thing was not this empty room, but the way my breasts continued to throb painfully. They were swollen, tense, and kept leaking breast milk that no longer had a tiny mouth to feed. My breast milk was abundant, yet there was no longer a cry waiting for it. Every drop that seeped through my loose clothing felt like a mockery from fate.

Two loud knocks on the weathered wooden door shattered my thoughts.

I wiped away my tears, buttoned my loose clothing with trembling fingers, then walked toward the front door. When the wooden door opened, a woman in a tight silk dress and oversized sunglasses stood in the doorway.

Amora. My twin sister.

She removed her sunglasses and stared at our late grandmother's modest house with a look of disgust furrowing her brow. Before I could greet her, Amora barged inside, shut the door noisily, then turned and looked me up and down.

Her gaze stopped at my chest, which was damp from leaking breast milk. Her beautiful eyes sparkled strangely—not with pity, but with satisfaction.

"Amelie, you have an abundant supply of breast milk, don't you, Amelie?" Amora asked without any preamble, her voice sharp and impatient.

I frowned, trying to process her presence here. "Yes. Why, Amora? What's wrong? How did you even get to this village?"

"Forget about that. I need your help," she interrupted quickly. She stepped closer and gripped both of my shoulders. "I gave birth two weeks ago. But I can't stay in that house anymore, Amelie. I'm going to go crazy!"

"What do you mean?"

"Reyvano is imprisoning me!" Amora cried out, her voice restrained yet filled with feigned fear. "My husband, he's a monster! He won't let me leave the house, he won't let me work, and he won't even let me go on a diet. He wants me to stay curvy, to remain a housewife who does nothing but give birth and take care of the child. He's controlling my entire life!"

I rubbed my swollen face. "Amora, no matter what he's like, he is your husband, and you have to respect him..."

"He doesn't want the baby to be given formula! He wants the baby to drink only breast milk. Do you know what that means for my figure?!" Amora gripped my arm even tighter. "Do you know? I received an offer from a modeling agency in Paris, Amelie. This is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. But Reyvano would never allow me to leave if he knew I was abandoning his baby."

Amora's breathing grew rapid. She looked at my face, then at my figure. We were identical twins, yet our lives had taken us down different paths. When I was five years old, my family sent me away to this village because I suffered from a severe contagious skin disease. Thanks to Grandma's herbal remedies and devoted care, I slowly made a full recovery. However, the quiet village life and the trauma of my loss caused my body to gain weight. I grew into a plus-size woman, unlike Amora, who had always maintained her figure to meet the beauty standards of the city, although Amora's weight was still not much different from mine.

"I want you to take my place," Amora said firmly.

I took a step backward. "What? Are you crazy?"

"Listen first!" Amora held my hand. "Our faces are exactly the same. Your body now—fuller and curvier—is actually very much to Reyvano's unusual taste. He always gets angry when I become too thin. If you wear my clothes and style yourself like me, he won't suspect a thing. You only need to stay at the Blackthorne residence!"

"No, Amora. This is crazy. I don't want to get involved in a lie like this," I insisted, shaking my head firmly. The grief over my baby's death had not even faded, and now she was asking me to pretend to be her?

Amora hissed in frustration. She suddenly dropped to the floor, kneeling in front of me. Her eyes began to glisten with tears, displaying the drama she so often played.

"Please help me, Amelie! You're the only one who can save me from Reyvano's confinement!" she pleaded, clutching the hem of my nightgown. "I'm not asking you to do it forever! Just until the child turns two. Until he's weaned! I don't want to breastfeed him, my milk supply is low and it will make my breasts sag. But you... you have an abundant supply of breast milk! The baby needs breast milk, Amelie!"

Those words struck my chest right in the most vulnerable place.

The baby needs breast milk.

My hand instinctively touched my own chest, which felt tense and warm. My baby had died because I had been unable to give him enough life. And now, there was a baby—my own nephew—who needed what continued to flow from my body?

"Two years..." I whispered, my voice hoarse.

"Yes! Just two years!" Amora immediately stood up, quickly wiping away her fake tears when she saw my hesitation. "Once the child is weaned and I'm settled in Paris, with my figure back to its ideal shape, I'll return. You can come back to this village again. Please, Amelie... you miss having a baby, don't you? My child needs a mother, and you need a reason to keep living after... losing your baby."

I fell silent. Amora's last sentence pierced me deeply. The image of the empty baby crib in the next room flashed through my mind again. The desire to hold a tiny body, breathe in the familiar scent of a newborn, and pour all the love and wasted breast milk inside me into that baby overwhelmed my chest.

"Reyvano... is he a dangerous man?" I asked quietly, remembering Amora's story about his controlling behavior.

Amora waved her hand dismissively. "He's just dominant and a little cold. But as long as you obey him and focus on taking care of the baby, he won't bother you. Besides, he's very busy with his business."

I took a deep breath, absorbing the cool village air that had always accompanied me in my solitude. Here, I was merely a grieving widow drowning in regret. But there... there was a baby who needed the life-giving nourishment my body could provide.

"So? Are you willing to take my place for only two years?"