Surrogate Mom's Battle

The call came when I was folding laundry, the phone's shrill ring cutting through the quiet afternoon like a blade. "Mrs. Webb? This is Nurse Patel from Memorial Hospital. Your daughter Estrella has been in an accident." My hands froze mid-fold, a tiny pink sock slipping from my fingers. "What happened? Is she okay?" "She's alive, but in critical condition. You need to come immediately." I don't remember dropping the phone or grabbing my keys. The drive to the hospital passed in a blur of red lights and honking horns as I weaved through traffic, my heart hammering against my ribs. "Please God, please God," I whispered, tears blurring my vision.

Chapters

Chapter 2

The donations were coming in steadily when the first screenshot appeared in the chat.

"Look at this!" someone named @TruthSeeker posted. "Your husband transferred $3 MILLION to Ariyah Lawrence TWO DAYS AGO!"

My finger froze above the screen. What?

Another screenshot followed—a bank statement showing a massive transfer with the memo "support payments."

Then another. And another.

"LIAR!" the chat exploded. "She's begging for money while hiding millions!"

"No wonder she's so desperate—she's trying to scam us!"

"Where's the real mom? This is a setup!"

I stared at the screenshots, my mind refusing to process what I was seeing. Three million dollars? Two days ago?

"Cooper?" I whispered, looking up to find him standing in the doorway of the waiting room. "Is this real?"

His face remained impassive as he stepped closer, glancing at my phone. "You shouldn't believe everything you see online, Sariyah."

"But these are bank statements—"

"Edited screenshots," he cut me off smoothly. "You know how easy that is."

My hands trembled as I ended the livestream. The donations had reached $2,700—nowhere near enough, but it had been something. Now, because of these screenshots, everyone thought I was a fraud.

"Who is Ariyah Lawrence?" I demanded, following him into the hospital corridor.

"A business partner," he replied, checking his watch. "I owed her money for a project."

"Three million dollars worth of project?"

Cooper sighed, his expression shifting to one of practiced patience. "You know I don't discuss business with you because of your... emotional instability."

"My what?"

"Look at yourself right now," he said, gesturing to my tear-stained face. "You're hysterical. That's why I handle the finances."

I felt like I'd been slapped. Emotional instability? This man was gaslighting me while our daughter lay dying.

---

Later that night, after Estrella's condition had stabilized temporarily, I slipped away to investigate.

Ariyah Lawrence. The name nagged at me, familiar yet elusive.

I pulled out my phone and typed her name into the search bar. The hospital's website appeared first—she was a doctor here. At the same hospital where Estrella was fighting for her life.

Scrolling through her social media profiles revealed more. Recent photos of her at charity galas, medical conferences—and standing next to Cooper at a dinner party just three weeks ago.

They looked intimate in the photos, his hand resting casually on her lower back, her smile directed at him rather than the camera.

My stomach twisted as I saved the images to my phone.

The next morning, I spotted her in the hospital cafeteria—tall, elegant, with glossy black hair pulled into a sleek bun. She wore scrubs with the hospital logo embroidered on the chest pocket.

"Dr. Lawrence?" I approached her table cautiously.

She looked up, recognition flickering in her eyes before settling into cool indifference. "Mrs. Webb. How... unexpected to see you here."

"You know who I am."

"Of course." She sipped her coffee. "Cooper and I go way back."

"Cooper told me you're a business partner."

Something like amusement crossed her face. "Did he? That's one way to describe it."

I slid into the seat across from her. "What's another way?"

She leaned forward, her voice dropping to a whisper. "Perhaps Estrella's accident is nature's way of correcting a mistake."

My blood ran cold. "What are you talking about?"

"Just that..." She glanced around before meeting my eyes again. "Some things aren't meant to be. Children included."

---

I drove home in a daze, my mind racing with possibilities, each more terrifying than the last.

When I pulled into our driveway, I noticed an unfamiliar luxury car parked beside Cooper's BMW.

Something was wrong.

I rushed inside to find suitcases—my suitcases—lined up by the front door.

"Cooper?" I called out, my voice echoing through the empty foyer.

"In here," came his mother's voice from upstairs.

I climbed the stairs to find Mrs. Fernandez directing movers who were carrying boxes into the master bedroom—boxes labeled with names that weren't mine.

"What's going on?" I demanded.

Mrs. Fernandez turned to me with cold eyes. "Ariyah's moving in. She needs to be close to the hospital."

"Moving in? This is my house!"

"Not anymore." She straightened, adjusting her pearl necklace. "You're no longer needed here, Sariyah."

Through the open bedroom door, I could see Ariyah arranging her clothes in what had been my closet just hours ago.

"You should leave with some dignity," Mrs. Fernandez continued, her voice dripping with false sympathy. "Before we call the police for trespassing."

I stood frozen as Ariyah walked past me, her shoulder brushing mine deliberately.

"Hello, Sariyah," she said sweetly. "I'll take good care of everything."

Everything—including my husband, my home, and possibly my daughter.

Continue to next part

The Fifth Avenue wedding venue glowed in the soft light of dawn as I adjusted the last orchid in a crystal vase. My fingers trembled slightly—not from exhaustion after the sleepless night of preparations, but from a giddy, almost desperate excitement. After five years of waiting, of promises made and broken, Nathan had finally agreed to marry me. 'Just a little higher on the left,' I whispered to myself, tilting my head to examine the arrangement. Perfect. Everything had to be perfect today. The grand ballroom was transformed into the elegant, timeless space I'd envisioned since I was a little girl in Ohio dreaming of my future. Ivory silk draperies cascaded from ceiling to floor, catching the morning light that streamed through the tall windows. Crystal chandeliers sparkled above tables adorned with orchids and roses—Nathan's favorite. I'd chosen every detail with him in mind.

Billionaire Modern Romance

8.7

Bought By The Man Who Hates Me

8.7

I sat at a mahogany table in River Oaks, clutching the strap of a pilled black dress from a life I’d lost five years ago. I was an exile in a world of old money, just trying to survive a dinner party I didn't belong in. Then the doors opened, and Baron Lowery walked in. He was no longer the boy I’d loved, but a powerful man with eyes like a storm front. When the host asked if we’d met, Baron didn't even blink. "I don't know her," he said. The erasure was a physical blow. His new girlfriend spent the night mocking my "quaint" legal aid work and calling me a washed-up gold digger. Baron didn't defend me; he watched my humiliation with a cold, predatory stillness. During a game of Truth or Dare, he stared me down, waiting for a confession. To protect his career and the secret of my father’s federal crimes, I looked him in the eye and told the ultimate lie: "No regrets." He retaliated by pinning me against a concrete wall in a dark stairwell, crushing his mouth to mine in a kiss that felt like a punishment. He told me I wasn't worth the effort and left me. I retreated to my real life—a moldy trailer and a blackmailer named Harvey who was forcing me into a marriage to save my father from prison. I thought I’d hit rock bottom until Baron’s silver Bentley pulled up to my slum. He didn't come to apologize. He flipped open a checkbook, scribbled fifty thousand dollars, and held it out like I was a common streetwalker. "One night," he demanded. "Do whatever I say, and it's yours." I looked at the man I’d sacrificed my entire soul for and realized he’d finally become the monster I'd tried to save him from. I shoved the check back in his face and ran into the rain, leaving the billionaire staring at the trailer park, unable to understand why the "gold digger" he hated so much wouldn't take his money.

Billionaire Modern Romance

8.4

He Loved Her Too Late

8.4

Elira never asked Rowan to love her loudly. She only asked him to stay. Working side by side in the same office, Elira and Rowan build something quiet, fragile, and deeply personal. She is patient, observant, and steady. He is careful, distant, and afraid of choosing what he wants. When feelings grow stronger, Rowan keeps retreating always almost choosing her, always a moment too late. Elira stays longer than she should, loving him in the spaces he keeps leaving behind. He Loved Her Too Late is a slow-burn office romance about unspoken feelings, emotional distance, and the painful truth that love does not disappear just because it is delayed. Sometimes, the hardest lesson isn't learning how to love but realizing when love arrives too late.

Modern Mystery Romance

9.4

Hunter's World Crumbles at Party

9.4

The sound of screeching tires pierced the afternoon quiet. I froze on our apartment steps, my hand still clutching the door handle as I watched in horror. "Luna!" I screamed, my voice shattering the Manhattan sidewalk's usual hum of businesslike anonymity. My six-year-old daughter had been crossing the street just outside our building, her small figure weaving between parked cars with the carelessness of childhood. Now she lay crumpled on the asphalt, a growing crimson stain spreading across her favorite pink dress—the one with butterflies she'd insisted on wearing today. A sleek red convertible swerved wildly before speeding away, its driver never looking back. I caught a glimpse of perfectly manicured hands gripping the steering wheel, a flash of blonde hair. Valery. "Hunter's girlfriend," whispered Mrs. Rodriguez, our elderly neighbor who'd been watering her potted plants.

Modern Mystery Romance

7.5

Reborn, I Ruined Their Perfect Life

7.5

I spent five years laundering my family's wealth and buying military-grade weapons to crown my husband, Alistair, the Don of the Chicago Mafia. But the night before his coronation, he drove an Italian stiletto into my stomach. He sneered that a Don needed a true Mafia Queen, and that was always meant to be his "fragile" friend, Kylie. As I bled out on the Persian rug, he revealed the sickening truth. The night I was found in a rival Irish boss's bed two years ago wasn't a setup by our enemies. Alistair had ordered his own mother and sister to drug and frame me. He just needed me terrified enough to sign over my merchant trust fund to prove my loyalty. My entire marriage, my sacrifices, and my stolen wealth were just stepping stones for him and his mistress. I had bled for him and won him the city, only to be slaughtered like a sacrificial lamb so he could hand my empire to another woman. Before the flames I started consumed us both, I swore I'd drag his entire family to hell. Opening my eyes again, the suffocating smoke was gone, replaced by the scent of lavender and the bitter taste of chloral hydrate. I was back on the exact night of the frame-up two years ago. Outside the door, my sister-in-law was whispering, waiting for the Irish boss to arrive so they could ruin me. This time, I was going to make sure she was the one in that bed.

Fantasy Mafia Modern

7.1

TEMPTING THE ICE KING

7.1

"You broke the first rule, Princess. That means I get to take something from you. I'll start with this," he said, tugging at my panties and a needy throb ran straight through my core. "Kyren, don't," I tried but it was to no avail. He roughly pulled at the flimsy material, covering my most intimate part. The sound of lace ripping, filled the room. And the cool air from the AC bit into my exposed skin. His hands slid up my back. He unclasped my bra with ease and it soundlessly dropped to the floor. His gaze raked over my trembling form with a satisfied hunger. "You're not a cheerleader tonight. You're just mine. And I'm going to spend the next few hours showing you exactly what happens when you break my rules," he stated, before pushing my legs wide open with his knee. ×× Hailey thought she could handle the "Ice King." She thought she could seduce him, win the bet, and walk away with her heart intact. But Kyren sees right through her games. He doesn't want her seduction, he wants her submission. As the lines between a dare and reality blur, Hailey finds herself trapped between her father's expectations and a man who wants to claim every inch of her. In a game where the rules keep changing, Hailey is about to learn that the Ice King doesn't just freeze people out... he burns them down.

Action Mafia Modern

Surrogate Mom's Battle

Chapter 2

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