The Billionaire's Accidental Surrogate のすべてのチャプター: チャプター 1 - チャプター 10

"You love too much, Clara," Jake said, his eyes not meeting hers.Clara felt her heart drop to her stomach. The coffee shop around them buzzed with activity, but all she could focus on was the man sitting across from her, the man she'd given eighteen months of her life to."What do you mean I love too much?" she asked, her voice small. "How can anyone love too much?"Jake sighed, running a hand through his dark hair. "You're always in my space. Coming to my office all the time with lunch. You get gifts for my family on their birthdays. Even my nieces! Who does that?""I thought... I thought it was nice," Clara whispered, tears forming in her eyes. "Your family has been so good to me.""It comes off as needy, it is giving desperation like you want me to marry you so badly," Jake said bluntly. "That's why I'm breaking up with you."Tears spilled down Clara's cheeks. She reached across the table, grabbing his hand. "I'll stop getting gifts. I'll shower you with less love. I won't take lu

Clara's eyes fluttered open to an unfamiliar surrounding.The room she was in wasn't just a room—it was bigger than her entire apartment. Sunlight streamed through enormous windows framed by heavy silk curtains. The bed she lay in was king-sized with sheets so soft they felt like clouds against her skin. Everything gleamed with luxury: the marble floors, the crystal chandelier overhead, the hand-carved furniture that looked like it belonged in a palace."Where am I?" Clara whispered to herself, sliding her legs over the edge of the bed.Her head spun slightly as she stood. She was still wearing her clothes from yesterday—jeans and a simple blue top—though someone had removed her shoes. She spotted them, neatly arranged beside a pair of slippers at the foot of the bed.Clara walked to one of the windows and gasped at the view. She had to be at least forty floors up. She was trying to figure out which building she might be in when she heard the door open behind her. Quickly, she dove ba

As the car sped through traffic, Devon held Clara close, one hand pressed gently to her stomach. His heart was racing in a way it never had during the most high-stakes business deals.He pulled out his phone and dialed his personal doctor."It's Cage," he said when the doctor answered. "I'm bringing in a pregnant woman who's been assaulted. Have a team ready at the emergency entrance. And if anything happens to her or the baby, your career is over. Understand?"His phone rang again almost immediately after he hung up. It was Nana."Devon? Did you talk to her yet?" Nana asked."Someone attacked her," Devon said, his voice tight with an emotion he couldn't name. "I'm taking her to the hospital now.""Oh my God," Nana gasped. "Is she alright? The baby?""I don't know," Devon admitted, looking down at Clara's pale face. "She's unconscious.""I'm coming to the hospital," Nana declared. "And I'm bringing your father."Before Devon could protest, she had hung up.The car pulled up to the hos

The house was quiet, just the way Devon liked it. He stood in the hallway, watching Elliot carry in Clara’s bags one after the other. He barely said a word, just gave a short nod.“Take them upstairs. Get one of the guest rooms ready,” Devon said, his voice calm but firm.Elliot nodded and walked off without a word.Devon turned and headed into his study. He went to the couch and then suddenly, a thought hit him, He remembered when he saw Clara at the hospital gently touching the flowers Sarah brought. She sniffed them, smiling softly like they meant something. Then he remembered the flower pots Elliot had picked up for her. Then it dawned on him that she is a flower lover, after all she is a florist. He wanted her to feel at home and comfortable.Without thinking, he grabbed his phone off the table and dialed a number.“I want to order some exotic flowers,” he said when the person answered. “Deliver them first thing tomorrow morning.”He ended the call, dropped the phone, and went ba

Yvonne sat in her car outside the dingy café, her perfectly manicured fingers drumming against the steering wheel. She'd been waiting for twenty minutes, and patience wasn't exactly her strong suit. The neighborhood wasn't one she'd normally be caught dead in, but desperate times called for desperate measures.Her phone buzzed. Finally."Inside. Corner booth," the text read.She grabbed her designer purse and stepped out, her heels clicking against the cracked pavement. The café smelled like stale coffee and broken dreams, but Yvonne pushed through the door anyway. In the far corner, a man in his fifties sat hunched over a cup of black coffee. Marcus Webb – former police detective turned private investigator. And more importantly, someone who owed her a favor."Marcus," she said, sliding into the booth across from him."Yvonne." His voice was rough, like he'd been smoking for thirty years. Which he probably had. "Been a while.""Not long enough," she muttered, then leaned forward. "I