Page 3 of The Bratva Bosses' Surrogate

This whole day has turned weird. I mean, who would have thought an offer like this would come my way? A million dollars to carry a child for three wealthy businessmen? It’s almost too good to be true. But something about the whole situation feels off, and I can’t shake the uneasy feeling that’s settled deep in my gut.

Stacey’s voice pulls me from my thoughts. “It’s cold out there. Would you like me to drop you off somewhere?”

I nod, grateful for the gesture amid this swirling confusion. “Yeah, sure.”

She has a sleek black sedan. Just how much does she make?

Once inside the car, Stacey turns on the heat, filling the space with warmth. “So, where do you live, Sofia?” she asks, her tone neutral. “I’ll drop you off.”

“It’s 1425 Walnut Street,” I say, noting her attentive nod as she inputs the details into her car’s navigation system.

The drive is short, and I’m glad she doesn’t make small talk.

We pull up to my place, a building that’s seen better days. Stacey’s eyes take in the sight, a flicker of surprise crossing her face.

“You live here?” she asks.

“Yes.”

Her next words sting, even if they aren’t meant to. “No wonder you signed the contract.”

Her comment feels like a jab, unintentional or not. I imagine all the sharp retorts I could hurl back, but I bite my tongue. She’s my connection to the agency, after all.

Without a word, I step out of the car and head toward my home. The door closes behind me with a familiar creak, the lock clicking into place.

Standing in the dimly lit hallway of my apartment, the walls seem to close in around me. A million dollars. It’s a number that could erase so many worries, open so many doors.

Living with them, not even knowing who they are, it’s bizarre. It’s not just a red flag; it’s a whole parade of them. And their refusal to even meet me? That’s not just weird, it’s downright absurd.

Shaking off the uneasy thoughts, I pull out my phone. I need to know the reasoning behind Jason’s decision. I never thought he would give up on me.

I type out a quick message, “Hey Jason. I heard you changed your mind about the surrogacy.”

His reply comes swiftly, almost jarringly so. “What? No. They told me you did.”

Confusion spirals. They told him I backed out? But Stacey said... I stand there, phone in hand, as the pieces refuse to fit together. What is going on?

Nothing is making sense, and a nagging suspicion takes root in my mind. I quickly type, ‘Stacey Jones Bright Futures Surrogacy Agency’into Google, my heart pounding in my chest.

The search results load, and there she is, but not the Stacey I just met. The Stacey on my screen is older, with a mane of red hair, nothing like the black-haired woman who drove me home. That’s not the woman who sat across from me, talking about million-dollar deals and mansions.

Panic prickles the hairs on the back of my neck. That wasn’t my boss. That wasn’t the Stacey Jones from the agency. Who was she then? And what did she want from me? Not only that, but I also let her drive me home. Now she knows my address. My heart hammers in my chest as I try to piece it together.

But my thoughts are cut short by the sound of a knock on my door.

Chapter 2

Maxym

I knock on the door, my knuckles rapping against the wood with a sense of urgency. All I want is for this to go smoothly, without any unnecessary drama. I’m not in the mood to deal with complications.

She’s the perfect candidate for our plan. No family ties, no one who’d come looking if she went off the grid for a while. Just a few online friends, and that’s it. It’s harsh, but it’s the truth. If she disappeared for nine months, nobody would really notice.

We need an heir, plain and simple. Love isn’t in the cards for me, Ivan, or Viktor. That’s not what this is about. It’s a business transaction, nothing more. I’m here for one thing only, the baby. The surrogate’s desires, her needs, they’re secondary. As long as she can provide us with an heir, nothing else matters.

Finally, she opens the door, her eyes wide, “Who... are you?”

I don’t waste time with pleasantries. “You had a talk with Stacey, didn’t you? And you signed a contract?”

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