Chapter 1

Sophia’s POV

 I am running late for the meeting I had scheduled with Mr.Westwood.

I quickened my pace into the mansion, ushered in by some staff, to what I came to realize was his study.

I rushed through the door; my appearance and haste were enough to tell that I took an impromptu break from my workplace. 

I had almost approached where he was sitting when I bumped into his staff holding a tray.

I cursed under my breath. As if the day couldn’t get any worse. 

“I'm… I'm sorry.” She stutters. The young woman handed me a towel while she picked up the tray and left the study.

“It's inappropriate to keep someone waiting,” Mr. Westwood said without allowing me to take a seat first.

“I'm sorry, I had to leave work without permission,” I said, taking a seat.

I’m so……

“I’m offering you a million dollars,” he said, cutting off my apologies.

“Sorry?” I ask, confused.

“What are you talking about?”

“You said you had a better job for me.”

“That's why I brought my CV.”

I reach into my bag to bring out my documents.

“Like I was saying, you need money, and I am offering a million dollars. I also don't think I will need your wet documents,” he pointed behind me, showing me where my CV was lying.

Hearing the amount he mentioned again, I lost interest in my CV.

“A million dollars?!!” I ask in disbelief.

The expression on my face was enough to tell him I had never earned such an amount.

“You heard me.”

“All you need to do is be my surrogate.”

When I understood what I was going to do, my smile started to narrow.

“I'm sorry….” I repeated.

“Oh! Don't pretend you are so innocent.”

“People like you have sex for free; isn’t it a good time to get paid for it?” He asks, keeping close eye contact with me.

"I beg your pardon, sir," I said immediately.

“I am here because you told me that you needed me for a job. I did not come here to sit here and listen to your insults.”

"You can ask for my pardon as many times as you like, but the situation won't change: I just need a descendant, and you need this money to save your father."

“Think about it.”

“You have two options: either be egotistical and let your father rot in jail, or take action that will save not just him but also your financial situation.”

"You have 48 hours to decide; the ball is in your court."

Finally, he waved his hand at me, gesturing for me to leave. I stood up and wandered about with my thoughts on my way out.

I had sold a lot of things to pay off our outstanding bills for the proceedings of my father’s case. Desperation had seriously kicked in, and Ethan’s option seemed like the best and only option at the moment.

My name is Sophia Parker, and my father was imprisoned, wrongly. He was apprehended in connection with a fraudulent activity in his construction company. The Lawyer the city provided did little or nothing to help his case. Now, it's up to me to look for a good lawyer to take his case for a plea hearing.

Coupled with that, his health has been depreciating over the years, he needs to get out of there as soon as possible before he gets worse.  

My little salary doesn’t even cover half of his bills. I work as a waitress at the Churchills Arms bar in London, where Ethan overheard me talk about his predicament to my friend at work and how desperately I needed money. 

I felt his eyes all over me that night while he had his beer, not lustfully but as if sizing me up for a lamb to be slaughtered.

When I walked over to him to refill his glass, he spoke while sliding his card across the table, “Here’s my card; call me. I have a job for you.”.

Everyone knew Ethan Westwood, the well-known billionaire who was handsome but also stubborn, egocentric, and arrogant. It wasn’t a surprise he was single; his presence exudes more fear than respect for the people around him. 

I cared less about his reputation but more about the job he wanted to offer me. I felt the universe had suddenly smiled at me, completely ignorant of the nature of the job Mr. Westwood was offering until now. 

I discussed this offer with my friend at work, and she advised that I accept it as it will all be over in a period of one year. My father, on the other hand, vehemently kicked against it.

“Please don’t be a disgrace to this family, Sophia.”

“Do not stoop so low for money. Don’t bring us shame." My father said with pain in his throat.

“I have to, Dad. I can't let you rot in jail when you are innocent, also your health is deteriorating, you can't stay here any longer.” I spoke with a brittle voice.

“Then you should let me die here rather than bring shame to this family.” He spoke angrily.

“I'm sorry. Please try to understand me.” I pleaded with teary eyes, clutching to the phone more tightly while staring at him from the other end of the glass.

“Do you know the gravity of what you are about to do?”

“To sell a baby for money? Don’t do this.”

My heart began to rise fast. A tear dropped from the side of my face.

48 hours were almost over; I needed to make a decision. 

I left my father and headed home. 

When I got home, the pressure reached a climax.

“I’ll do it." I said to myself, “Someday, my father will understand.”. 

And with that, I picked up my phone and called Mr. Westwood.

After my decision to sign the papers, Mr. Westwood laid down these terms: “Every visit to the doctor shall be escorted by one of my staff.” The doctor will be chosen by me, and during the course of this pregnancy, you must adhere to a strict diet and you aren’t allowed to work.”.

“After delivery, you forfeit the right to the child; the baby will be mine alone, and you are to disappear from his life forever; do you agree?”

I pondered them for a moment and felt like there was no turning back now. I simply need to save my father. I agreed

“One more thing,” he added. 

“We are going the old-fashioned way. I can’t afford for word to spread that someone connected to the Westwood family is seeing a fertility specialist.”. 

“Excuse me, I don’t understand what you mean,” I answered, this time not comprehending what he was insinuating at all.

“Don’t play smart with me, girl. From the looks of you, modesty isn’t your strong suit,” he retorted.

I stared down at my outfit, completely taken aback by what he said. 

Ugh! I was offended by this man's haughtiness. He just labeled me a whore in the most cunning way imaginable.

I smiled, distancing myself from the rage that was building up in me. I clenched and unclenched my fists multiple times, slowly bringing myself to a calm. 

I was desperate; I needed money, and I might as well take his insults too. Exhaling, I nod and agree to his terms. 

He hands me the contract and points out where to sign. I drew my signature with the pen, which felt like I was writing with my own blood.