Chapter 1 Surrogacy

“The client requested natural conception.” At night, in a luxurious villa, Adela lay naked on the bed. The room was dark. She stared at the blurry patterns on the ceiling, her palms already drenched with sweat. The sound of water flowing from the bathroom gradually stopped. Adela struggled to breathe, her heart pounding as if it were about to jump out of her chest. This was her first time, but she wasn’t here as a lover. She was here as a surrogate mother. The bathroom door was pushed open. From the narrow gap came a warm yellow light. A man, wrapped in a towel, stepped out. Adela couldn’t see his face clearly, only sensing that he was a tall and imposing figure. [Relax, what’s meant to happen will happen,] Adela told herself in her mind, trying to breathe deeply to calm down. The man sat on the edge of the bed, supporting himself with one hand, his eyes fixed on her. “Are you ready?” He spoke, his voice rich and smooth, like a fine wine. In the moonlight, Adela saw an unreadable expression in his eyes. She didn’t dare look at him again, lowered her gaze, and softly said, “Y-yes.” The man said no more. He lifted the blanket and covered her with his body. His scent and warmth enveloped her instantly. Adela’s mind buzzed, and the heat radiating from his body plunged her into a surreal state. Faced with the strength of an adult man’s body, she couldn’t think at all, even forgetting to breathe. “Are you afraid of me?” The man’s deep voice sounded in her ear. “N-no…” Adela’s voice was fragmented. She couldn’t even complete a sentence. The man chuckled softly but didn’t speak further. Instead, he grabbed her waist, pulling her naked body tightly against him. One of his hands seized both of hers, pinning them above her head on the pillow. Adela felt like prey, awaiting the beast’s claim. The man lowered his head and began to devour her, from her lips to her chest, down to her stomach. His kisses and caresses blurred her consciousness, pulling her into a trance. At some unknown moment, a firm, hot presence pressed against her entrance and slowly, firmly entered her. Her hands instinctively gripped the man’s hand, a sound escaping her lips—“Oh.” That night, she felt like a small boat adrift on the ocean, her body swaying with his rhythm. By the end, she was drenched in sweat. After a final, intense thrust, the man exhaled deeply, lying on top of her, his hand lingeringly caressing her. …… When Adela woke again, it was already morning. The pillow beside her was cold, faintly scented with smoke. He seemed to have left a long time ago. Dragging her weary body to the bathroom, she came out to find her phone vibrating persistently on the nightstand. As soon as she picked it up, her stepmother Ella’s urgent voice came through, “Adela, was he satisfied with you?” “He…” Adela’s voice was hoarse, her gaze falling on the stack of dollar bills on the bedside table. “He gave me… Forty thousand.” “Forty thousand?” Ella let out a visible sigh of relief, clearing her throat before urging, “Then hurry and bring it back. Your father urgently needs it! The debt collectors are here again!” “Okay.” Responding slowly, Adela hung up the phone and put on the dress the man had prepared for her. When she went downstairs with the money, the chauffeur was already waiting. “Miss, Mr. Norman asked me to take you home.” Adela froze for a moment, then nodded. “Thank you.” She got in the car, sitting in the back and turning her head to look at the scenery outside. It was July, the weather scorching, and the world bathed in golden sunlight. But her heart felt like ice, unable to thaw. The thirty-minute drive ended quickly. She thanked the driver, opened the door, and got out. Adela’s home was in the slums. Though breathing the same air, it was a world apart. Clothes hung on racks by the roadside, dripping water mixing with the mud below. Women’s undergarments hung unabashedly by the windows. Shirtless men argued with loud, heavyset women on the street, while middle-aged women chased after crying children. Adela clutched the bag in her hand tightly, bowing her head and walking quickly along the path. Before she could push the door open, her father’s pleading voice reached her ears. Heart sinking, she quickly opened the door, taking in the chaotic scene inside. The house was in shambles. Anything that could be smashed had been destroyed. Her stepmother, Ella, huddled in a corner holding her young sister, Herbie, both of them crying. Her father, Calvin, was curled up on the ground. Several shirtless men were kicking and punching him. “Stop!” Adela rushed to her father’s side, shoving the bag of money into one of the men’s hands. She threw herself over her father, her voice trembling as she looked at the men with wary eyes. “This is Forty thousand! Exactly what you asked for! Take it and leave!” “Well, well.” A tattooed man sneered, eyeing Adela up and down before grabbing the bag and counting the money. “It really is forty thousand.” He handed the money to his companions and yelled, “Alright, boys, let’s get out of here.” The men laughed, counting their share while tossing crude remarks as they left. Adela breathed a quiet sigh of relief, only to have the tattooed man crouch down beside her. She gasped, trembling as she clung tightly to her father. The man rubbed his chin, his gaze falling on the lovemaking marks on her neck. With a knowing smirk, he said, “Nice work, Calvin.” Adela understood his insinuation. Humiliated, she shrank back, trying to cover the marks with her hand. The man chuckled darkly. “Remember this—three days. If you can’t pay the rest, you can watch your father die.” Adela nodded faintly, her eyes red with unshed tears. The men left, and the house fell into an eerie silence. Calvin, bruised and battered, was helped to his feet by Adela. Unable to bear looking at the marks on his daughter’s neck, he choked out, “Adela, I’m so sorry…” Adela forced her tears back. “I’m fine, Dad.” Calvin lowered his head, staring at his hands in despair. “It’s my fault. I swear I’ll never gamble again… If I do, I’ll… I’ll cut off my own hands!” “…” Adela had heard this promise countless times. She didn’t believe it anymore. She glanced at Ella and Herbie huddled in the corner. “Ella, could you please tidy up the house? We’ll be safe for the next three days.” Ella sobbed for a while before suddenly clutching Herbie and shouting at Calvin, “I want a divorce! Calvin, I’m done with this!” Calvin remained silent, letting her slap him repeatedly. Five-year-old Herbie, frightened by her mother’s outburst, burst into tears. Adela quickly picked her up and carried her outside. The shouts and cries inside the house echoed in her ears, Herbie’s sobs relentless. Eighteen-year-old Adela finally broke down, tears streaming down her face. Her mother had passed away when she was young, leaving her father to remarry Ella. Together, they had Herbie. Ella wasn’t particularly kind to Adela but wasn’t outright cruel either. Their life had been normal until Calvin fell into the trap of gambling. Then everything changed. The endless arguments, the debt collectors, Herbie’s constant crying—it all became too much. Adela sat on a bench, covering her face with her hands, but the tears kept coming. Sensing something was wrong, Herbie clumsily reached out to wipe her sister’s tears. “Don’t cry, sis… Don’t cry.” Adela froze for a moment before hugging Herbie’s small body tightly, finally letting out her grief. The burden of the entire family now rested on her shoulders. And the only person she could rely on was that man. …… As the night deepened, Adela lay on the bed as usual, like a concubine waiting for the king's favor. This time, the room was brightly lit. She covered her face with the blanket, finding a strange sense of security in her own heated breath and the stifling air beneath it. The man emerged from the bathroom, pausing to lean against the doorframe for a moment. He had been drinking tonight and was slightly drunk. Pressing his temples heavily with his fingers, he took slow, deliberate steps toward the bed, casually untying the towel around his waist. Adela under the blanket peeked out, her cheeks flushed red from being under the covers for too long. Layson, uncharacteristically, reached out and pinched her chin, bending down to examine her closely. This was the first time Adela had truly seen his face. His features were sharp and striking, his eyes like glazed crystals fogged with a faint mist. He was more handsome than she had imagined, and his presence was even more commanding, leaving her breath caught in her throat.