All Chapters of Surrogate to the Alpha: Chapter 1 - Chapter 10

A week had passed without a sign from Beth or anyone at the agency. So much for “you’ll get a call within a week.”Then the week turned into two. Two turned into a month. And that month very quickly turned into three, like time was sprinting while my life was crawling behind it, wheezing.By the end of the third month, I had convinced myself that Beth probably shredded my application, burned the remains, scattered the ashes, and then blocked my number for good measure. Honestly, I wouldn’t have blamed her.In those three months, life didn’t just continue — it escalated. It piled on. It stacked problems like it was playing emotional Jenga with me and waiting for the whole tower to collapse.Meanwhile, real life didn’t politely wait for me to get a miracle phone call. No, real life barged in like a drunk uncle at Christmas.After being threatened by the hospital’s manager with discharging my mother and sending her home without the medication and therapies that keep her alive, I had t

The blast of cold air‑conditioning hit me like a slap from God Himself. My lungs burned, my legs trembled, and I was sweating in places I didn’t know could sweat. The pantsuit was clinging to me like a damp funeral shroud.Act normal, Jo. Act. Normal.I straightened my spine, smoothed my hair (which only made it worse), and tried to walk like a woman who had not just abandoned her car in the middle of the street after verbally assaulting a stranger.The receptionist looked up, blinked twice, and plastered on a polite smile that said I’m paid to pretend this is fine.“Good morning. Welcome to the—”“I have a meeting,” I wheezed, sounding like a dying accordion. “With Beth. I’m Josephine.”Her eyes flicked over me — the sweat, the hair, the pantsuit that had given up on life — and she nodded slowly, like she was trying to decide whether to call security or a paramedic.“Of course. I’ll let her know you’ve arrived.”She didn’t even ask for my name again. That’s how much of a disaster I

Josephine I didn’t expect the results of the millions of tests they ran on me to come back so quickly. They poked, prodded, scanned, questioned, and siphoned off what felt like half the blood in my body — and I barely flinched. I’d been terrified of the psychological evaluation, convinced they’d dig into every dark corner of my brain and find me unfit. But it wasn’t scary at all. Calming, even. All about me, my emotional readiness, and how to navigate bonding with a baby I would never see. Usually, anything involving hospitals takes three to five business years — and with my mom’s situation, I know exactly what I’m talking about. But when my phone buzzed during what felt like the fiftieth rush hour of the day at the diner, I wiped my hands on my apron, opened the email, and nearly dropped my phone into a basket of chips I was clearing. There were a lot of attachments and a wall of text, but I’d become fluent in medical paperwork. I skimmed for the important bits. All clear. Exc

JosephineBy the time my shift ended, my feet were killing me, my back ached, and I smelled like grease and desperation. The kind of smell that clung to your soul, not just your clothes. The kind of smell that made people on the bus subtly lean away from you and pretend it was because they needed more elbow room. But I couldn't go home. I had a car to take out of the impound and I didn't have much time before it closed for the day and another day's fees would pile on top.Because of course the universe looked at my life and said, “You know what she needs? A ticking clock and financial ruin.” It never missed an opportunity to kick me while I was already face‑down on the pavement. If there was a cosmic suggestion box, I was convinced someone had written “ruin her” in permanent marker.I clocked out, shoved my tips into my pocket (all seven pounds of them), and limped toward the bus stop like a Victorian orphan with rickets. Honestly, if someone had tossed a coin at my feet, I probabl

By 3 a.m. — who needs sleep anyway — I had washed my hair twice, shaved my legs (for no reason), moisturised like I was preparing for a skincare sponsorship, and laid out three outfits that all screamed different levels of “I’m stable, I swear you can trust me with your baby.”By 7 a.m., I settled on the one that made me look the least like a raccoon who’d lost a custody battle.The morning air slapped me awake the second I stepped outside. I drove my car — my very much returned car — to the agency, gripping the steering wheel like it was the only thing tethering me to reality. The tyres hummed smoothly on the road, which was unsettling considering they were brand new and I had no idea who paid for them.I arrived at the agency early — EARLY — which was a miracle in itself. The building looked even more beige than I remembered. Beige walls, beige carpet, beige chairs. Beige air. Beige soul. Even the potted plant in the corner looked like it wanted to give up green and turn beige.I ch