Sophia's POV.

It was noon in City B, and the sun hung overhead, casting its reflection on the glass doors and windows of the lecture hall. The room buzzed with a low hum as students exchanged whispers and shuffled papers. Today was just another day at City B University for me. I occupied my usual seat, attempting to concentrate on the lecture, but my thoughts persistently strayed to my father's deteriorating condition.

Ever since my father collapsed in class and fell into a vegetative state, my life has been upended. The mounting medical expenses weigh heavily on my family's finances, seemingly insurmountable. My mother, previously vibrant and smiling, now wears a constant look of concern, overwhelmed by worry. She has attempted to take on additional jobs, but finding employment has proven challenging.

Desperation clouds my mind as I seek ways to save my father. The weight of responsibility bears down on my shoulders, leaving me determined to find a solution and help my family.

During a break in the lecture, my seatmate, Lily, scrolls through a website on her laptop, catching my curiosity. Leaning in, I try to catch a glimpse of what has captivated Lily's attention. My eyes widen as I read the words displayed on the screen—an advertisement for surrogacy.

Noticing my interest, Lily questions, "Are you interested in this? It seems to pay well."

Intrigued, I move closer, eager to learn more. "How do you know about it?"

Lily chuckles, a glint in her eyes. "I've come across the ad a few times. Perhaps they're being selective and haven't found the right candidate." She gives me a knowing look. "Are you considering something like this? You've never shown interest in faculty parties..."

Caught off guard, I cough, embarrassed and mortified that I have even considered it as an option. I force a small smile and deny, "Oh, I'm just curious about it."

As the lecture resumes, I redirect my focus, disregarding the suspicious glance Lily gives me. Yet, an ember of hope ignites within me. Surrogacy, the act of carrying a child for someone else in exchange for a substantial fee, appears to offer a potential solution to my problems. It could provide immediate financial relief, considering the sums mentioned in the advertisement.

That evening, I return home and settle into my room. With a racing heart, I open my laptop and begin researching the surrogacy program I came across earlier. The website contains detailed information, which I absorb meticulously. It becomes evident that the surrogate selection process is thorough and professional.

My eyes widen as I read through the application questions I would have to answer. They delve into personal details, with an emphasis on physical attributes. Questions like "Do you have abundant hair?" and "When was your last sexual encounter?" are among the inquiries that will determine my eligibility. The intimate nature of these questions makes me blush, but I understand the necessity for such scrutiny to ensure a successful surrogacy arrangement.

As I review the requirements, my fingers tremble nervously. The prospect of becoming a surrogate leads me into uncharted territory, both intriguing and unnerving. It feels like a clandestine secret I can't share with my family or friends. I have always been a highly educated student with a strong sense of self-esteem, and the idea of engaging in such an unconventional endeavor stirs a mix of emotions within me.

Lost in my thoughts, I don't notice my two roommates, Jake and Tyler, entering my room. Startled, I swiftly close my laptop, hoping they haven't glimpsed what I have been researching. However, they can't resist teasing me.

"Sophia, what are you watching? Some rated-18 stuff?" Jake smirks mischievously, waggling his eyebrows.

Tyler chimes in, "Yeah, Sophia, we need to know if you're getting any action in here!"

Blushing furiously, I scold them, "Can't you guys give me some privacy? I'm just researching something important."

Jake, the younger of the two brothers, playfully nudges Tyler and declares, "Alright, alright. Leave her be. But hey, Sophia, while you're out, could you grab some condoms for me?"

Tyler's eyes widen in disbelief at his brother's audacity. "Jake, seriously? Stop bothering her."

With a laugh, Jake replies, "Hey, I'm just preparing for all possibilities. You never know when I might need them."

As the brothers banter back and forth, I can't help but smile at their antics as I watch them leave the room. They have been my roommates for a year, and I feel most at ease with them.

When my family faced overwhelming debts, Tyler graciously offered me a place to stay for a nominal fee. Since then, I have resided in the same dorm as them, and although Jake, the younger one, occasionally likes to give me orders, our relationship remains harmonious.

After they leave, I reopen my laptop. I stare at the screen for a moment before resolving to make a decision. The idea seems promising; I could earn enough money to cover the hospital bills and more in one go.

With steely determination, I begin filling out the application form, my hands still trembling. Once completed, I submit it and receive a confirmation that my submission has been received. Now, all I have to do is wait for a response.

Hardly have I settled in when my ringtone suddenly blares at a high volume, startling me to the point of nearly losing my balance. I reach for my phone and, upon seeing the caller's name on the screen, flustered realization hits me—I am late for work.

It's my boss at the store, Mr. Johnson.

Apologizing hurriedly, I answer the call, "I'm so sorry..."

"Get to the store right now!" Mr. Johnson barks almost instantly and abruptly hangs up.

My heart races as I hastily grab my bag and rush out of my dorm room. I know all too well the anger Mr. Johnson can unleash, but today, I can't afford to be any later. The consequences of losing my job would be dire, especially with my father's medical expenses looming over me.

As I arrive at the store, I can sense the tension in the air. Mr. Johnson stands near the entrance, his face flushed with anger. Our eyes meet as I approach, and without wasting a moment, he launches into a tirade.

"Finally, you worthless piece of trash!" Mr. Johnson spits, his voice dripping with venom. "I've had it with your constant tardiness! Do you think I pay you to waltz in whenever you please?"

Embarrassment flushes my cheeks as I apologize, "I'm really sorry, Mr. Johnson. It won't happen again. I lost track of time, and I—"

"Save your damn excuses!" he interrupts, his voice booming through the store. "You're lucky I even keep you around. But mark my words, one more slip-up and you're out!"

Turning away from me, Mr. Johnson storms back to his office. I release a sigh of relief, grateful that the public humiliation has ended, at least for now.

Determined to prove myself, I quickly compose myself and approach a customer who is browsing the aisles. The woman seems shifty, her eyes darting nervously as she pretends to examine the merchandise. Something about her behavior triggers alarm bells in my mind.

"Can I help you find something?" I ask, my tone polite but firm.

The woman glances at me, her eyes narrowing with suspicion. "No, I'm just looking around. Mind your own business."

Maintaining my composure, I trust my instincts, sensing that something is amiss. "Of course, but I'm here to assist customers. If you need any help, feel free to ask."

Suddenly, the woman's expression turns aggressive, and she lunges at me, her hand connecting with my cheek in a stinging slap. Pain surges through my face, but I stand my ground, refusing to be intimidated.

Drawn by the commotion, Mr. Johnson rushes over to the scene. Without even listening to my side of the story, he immediately sides with the customer.

"What the hell is going on here? How dare you assault our customers!" Mr. Johnson shouts, his face turning crimson.

I wince, holding my stinging cheek, but my voice remains steady as I try to explain, "Mr. Johnson, she was—"

"I don't want to hear your pathetic excuses!" he bellows, cutting me off. "You're fired! Get your things and get out!"

Disbelief washes over me as I stand there, unable to comprehend what I have just heard. I have been slapped by a thief, and now I am losing my job without any opportunity to defend myself.

"Mr. Johnson, please, just review the CCTV footage. You'll see that I was only trying to—" I plead, my voice trembling.

But Mr. Johnson is already storming away, his back turned to me. "I don't have time for your lies. You're done here!"

My heart sinks as I watch my boss disappear into his office, his decision final. Anger and a sense of injustice well up inside me. It seems as though the world is conspiring against me, heaping on more obstacles just when I need a break.

With tears welling in my eyes, I gather my belongings, my mind filled with a mix of disappointment and frustration. However, as I step out of the store, I receive a notification in my email. It's regarding my surrogacy application.

I have been accepted for the first round!

Sophia's POV.

My heart skips a beat as I read the email notifying me of my acceptance into the first round of the surrogacy program. The timing can't be more perfect, given my recent job loss and my father's mounting medical expenses. Hope surges within me, overpowering the sting of the slap I received at work.

I quickly compose myself, wiping away the tears that gather in my eyes, and hail a cab to embark on my journey to the luxurious estate.

As the cab pulls up to the imposing gate, I can't help but marvel at the grandeur before me. The estate is like something out of a fairytale—a sprawling mansion surrounded by manicured gardens, tall hedges, and glistening fountains. It exudes an air of elegance and privilege that I have never experienced before.

Exiting the cab, I smooth my clothes, feeling a mix of nervousness and excitement. This is uncharted territory for me, and I can't help but wonder what lies beyond those gates. Will I be able to fulfill the expectations of the clients? What kind of people are they?

Taking a deep breath, I approach the guard stationed at the gate. He stands tall, clad in a crisp uniform, his gaze sharp and observant. I greet him politely, hoping he can provide me with the necessary directions to meet the clients.

"Excuse me, sir," I begin, my voice filled with a touch of anxiety. "I have an appointment with a client here."

"Hello, miss," the guard responds, his attention now on me. "May I have your pass?"

"A pass?" I am surprised as I have not received any pass, and the email only contains the address of the house. "I understand, but I don't have a pass. Is there any way I can gain entry?"

The guard eyes me for a moment, his expression stern. "I'm sorry, ma'am, but I can't allow anyone without a pass onto the premises. It's a matter of security and privacy."

My heart sinks, the weight of disappointment settling upon my shoulders. I have come so far, only to be stopped at the gate. But I can't let this setback deter me. I have to find a solution.

In a last-ditch effort, I decide to give the phone number I have been provided a call. Perhaps there has been a mistake, or someone will be able to assist me in gaining entry. I dial the number, my hopes flickering as I wait for a response.

To my dismay, the call goes unanswered. I sigh, feeling a pang of worry. It seems as though luck is not on my side today.

Just as I am about to give up and consider my next move, a sleek, black car pulls up to the gate, capturing both my attention and that of the guard. The window glides down, revealing the occupant inside, and my eyes widen in surprise.

The guard immediately straightens up, his demeanor transforming from stern to one of utmost respect. With a salute, he greets the person in the car. "Welcome, Mr. Williams."

I instinctively turn my gaze toward the car, curiosity and intrigue taking hold of me. Who is this Mr. Williams, and why does the guard's demeanor change so drastically in his presence?

As the car window lowers, my eyes lock with those of the person inside. For a brief moment, time seems to stand still. I find myself captivated by the piercing gaze that meets mine, a gaze that holds a hint of recognition.

In that instant, I notice a subtle pause in the person's expression before the driver accelerates and the car glides away, disappearing within the estate's grounds.

Confusion swirls within my mind. There is something familiar about the gaze that met mine, something that stirs a sense of curiosity and intrigue. Who is that person?

But it is the least of my concerns at this moment as I try to call the number again to no avail.

My heart sinks as the guard, seemingly unmoved by my plight, steps forward and requests me to leave the premises. Disappointment and frustration well up within me, but I know causing a scene will only worsen the situation. Reluctantly, I turn to leave, my dreams of a new opportunity slipping away.

However, just as I reach the gate, a sleek car emerges from the estate, its windows rolling down to reveal a young man inside. He has a friendly smile and an air of confidence as he steps out of the vehicle and approaches me.

With a mix of surprise and cautious hope, I watch as he comes closer and speaks in a warm voice. "Are you Sophia? I'm here to pick you up."

My eyes widen, and a rush of excitement floods my veins. This turn of events is unexpected, but it offers a glimmer of hope. I can't help but wonder who this young man is and why he was sent to find me. Is he connected to the surrogacy program?

"Yes, I'm Sophia," I reply, a mixture of curiosity and happiness lacing my words. "But who are you? And why are you here to pick me up?"

The young man's smile widens as he extends a hand in greeting. "I apologize for the confusion. My name is Ethan. I'm the assistant to the client you're here to meet."

My surprise grows, but a sense of relief washes over me. It seems that fate has intervened to provide me with an unexpected ally. I shake Ethan's hand, a grateful smile on my face. "Thank you, Ethan. I appreciate your help. I wasn't expecting this, but I'm glad you're here."

Ethan nods and opens the door of the car for me. "Please, come in. Let's get you inside the estate."

Eagerly, I step into the car, the soft leather seats embracing me. As the vehicle makes its way through the estate's grounds, I can't help but feel nervous about what I am about to do.

The car pulls up to the entrance of a magnificent mansion, its grandeur rivaling the estates I have seen before. I take a moment to absorb my surroundings, feeling a mixture of awe and nervous anticipation.

Ethan leads me up the sweeping staircase, each step resonating with a sense of grandeur. The marble beneath our feet is cool and polished, reflecting the soft glow of the crystal chandeliers above. The walls are adorned with exquisite paintings, their vibrant colors adding a touch of life to the opulent surroundings.

As we ascend, the sound of our footsteps echoes through the vast hallway. My eyes dart from one detail to another, marveling at the intricate architecture and the sense of history that lingers in every corner.

At the top of the staircase, we are greeted by a middle-aged woman, the housekeeper. Her warm smile and gentle demeanor immediately put me at ease.

"Welcome, dear. I've been informed of your arrival," the housekeeper says kindly, her voice carrying a soothing tone. "Please, have a seat."

I nod, taking a seat on a plush chair near the staircase. Ethan gives me an assuring smile before excusing himself, promising to relay my presence to his boss.

Left alone with the housekeeper, I can't help but feel a twinge of nervousness. The housekeeper seems to notice this too as she says, "Don't be nervous, miss. You can relax."

"Ah... I'm not..."

The housekeeper, however, smiles knowingly and asks, "What would you like me to serve you with?"

I am taken aback but instantly shake my head. "No need, ma'am. Thank you."

The woman, however, shakes her head and says, "You can't not have anything. Let me get you a glass of water at least."

I try to decline the offer, not wanting to trouble the housekeeper further, but her persuasive tone and warm smile convince me otherwise. "Thank you, that would be very kind."

The housekeeper nods and excuses herself, disappearing down the hallway to fetch the water. Left alone once again, I take the opportunity to survey my surroundings. The grand mansion exudes an air of old-world charm, with its antique furniture, intricate tapestries, and polished hardwood floors. Each room seems to have its own story to tell, and I find myself captivated by the tales that resonate within the walls.

A moment later, a servant about my age steps out with a tray and a glass of water in her hand. She walks to me and hands it to me, saying, "Have some water, miss."

"Thank you," I reply with a smile as the servant turns and leaves.

Caught up in staring around the lounge, I don't immediately notice the pair of eyes staring at me from the staircase. When I finally do, I look in that direction and see a tall masculine figure standing there.

I am instantly taken aback the moment my gaze falls on that face. A myriad of emotions pass through my face at that moment. It is the man I saw earlier at the gate, the one the guard called Mr. Williams.