The Desperate Offer
One sleepless night, scrolling online, I found a forum full of women who had become surrogate mothers for wealthy families.
Some were paid over a hundred thousand dollars. Enough to buy time — enough to give David a chance.
A part of me hesitated, horrified at the thought. But another part — the desperate wife, the terrified mother — whispered, You can save him.
I contacted a woman from a private group. Her name was Lena Torres. Her voice was calm, professional, yet strangely distant.
“We work with elite clients,” she said. “You’ll receive one hundred twenty thousand dollars. We’ll cover everything — medical bills, housing, nutrition. But you must remain discreet. No one can know.”
My voice trembled. “Will I have to… be with anyone?”
She chuckled softly. “No, sweetheart. It’s all medical. The embryo belongs to a married couple who can’t have children. You’re just helping them. No connection to you. After birth, you walk away — safe, respected, and financially secure.”
I sat there, staring at my phone for a long time. Then I looked at David — pale, breathing weakly — and at Sophie sleeping beside him.
Three days later, I texted Lena: “I’ll do it.”
