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

19 Chapters

1

Josephine “Are you a healthy and physically fit female aged between 20 and 40?” Check. “Do you consider yourself to be a selfless person that enjoys helping others?” Check, check and… check, I guess. “Hundreds of families that are unable to conceive are in need of your help in order to get the only thing missing from their lives. Join our agency today and be a surrogate mother to carry their much‑wanted child,” the ad read. And yes, I did scan over every word, for some reason. Maybe because desperation makes you read things twice. Maybe because the pastel colours hypnotised me. Or maybe because the universe has a sick sense of humour.I remember picking up the pink and blue flyer when I cut through the maternity ward at the hospital. That day started as a poor attempt at dodging my mother’s doctor — the same one who has made it his personal mission to ensure I remain on top of the payments towards the hospital. I mean, who is that guy anyway? Is he a doctor or a goddamn debt coll

2

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

3

I wore my mother’s old pantsuit for the meeting at the clinic.Not because it fit. Not because it was stylish. And definitely not because it made me look like a woman who had her life together.I wore it because it was the only thing in my entire wardrobe that wasn’t jeans, a hoodie, or a diner uniform that permanently smelled like fried onions.The pantsuit was a little baggy on me — okay, a lot baggy — but the fabric was sturdy. The kind of sturdy they don’t make anymore. You could probably survive a natural disaster in this thing. Tornado? Fine. Earthquake? Sure. Job interview that might determine whether your mother lives or dies? Absolutely.I tugged at the sleeves as I walked to my car, trying to convince myself I looked “professional” and put together. The mirror on the visor didn’t help. My hair was doing that thing where it refused to cooperate, and the pantsuit’s shoulder pads made me look like I was about to challenge someone to a duel.But I didn’t have time to fix any o

4

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

5

Derek Derek Blackwell already regretted leaving pack land. The city pressed in on him the moment he crossed the boundary — noise, fumes, too many humans packed into too little space. Cars crawled along the road like wounded animals, horns blaring, engines whining. Morning rush hour. His personal hell. He tightened his grip on the steering wheel, jaw clenched. He hated coming into town. Hated the concrete, the chaos, the way everything smelled wrong. But today he didn’t have a choice. Three shipments of construction materials had vanished in the last month. Expensive ones. And now the funds to replace them had mysteriously “not cleared.” His Gamma, Marcus, usually ran the company without issue — but even he couldn’t explain this mess. Which meant Derek had to show his face. And when the Alpha showed his face, people stopped lying. He exhaled slowly, trying to ignore the suffocating press of traffic around him. Back home, the air was clean. Crisp. The forest wrapped around t

6

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

7

DerekDerek hated being back in the city.Every night he went back home and things felt right, so by the time morning came he’d forgotten how suffocating it felt — the noise, the fumes, the endless stream of people who walked like they owned the pavement and drove like they’d never passed a test in their lives. Every day the same, on a loop, with not much to show for that effort. Over the past week he’d commuted here every day, and every day he questioned why he still bothered trying to run a business in a place that seemed determined to test his patience.At least there had been no further traffic incidents. Small mercies.Five people in his company had already lost their jobs because they seemed to think confidentiality was optional. The information they leaked hadn’t been catastrophic — just enough to redirect a few contracts to companies run by their relatives. Annoying, yes. Corrupt, absolutely. But Derek had to admit, begrudgingly, that at least one of those companies was doing

8

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

9

The ward’s receptionist looked up as I walked in. I didn't usually come by in the morning. Too many people would see me and remind me of the bills I needed to pay. I usually opted for later, after conventional busuness hours were finished.“Hi, Josephine.”“Mornin’, Claire. Is my mum up yet?”“You know she is. She’s been asking for you.”Of course she had. I didn’t come visit yesterday like I was meant to. Guilt pricked at me immediately — the kind that sits behind your ribs and taps like an impatient woodpecker. I headed down the familiar hallway, sans disguise and without stressing about who might chase me for money. For once, I wasn’t calculating which bill collector might be lurking behind a corner.The fluorescent lights hummed overhead, the same tired hum I’d grown accustomed to, not giving anyone an indication if it was light or dark outside. I could walk these hospital hallways blindfolded.Mum was sitting up in bed, knitting something that looked like it might one day become

10

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

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