The woman in Theodore Roosevelt 's bed was trying to whisper his name. It came out as a sigh, a breathy sound he ignored. He didn't care what her name was. He never did.
When he was finished, he got up without a word. He pulled on his black trousers and zipped them up. The room was dark, lit only by the city lights from the massive windows.
"You can go," he said, his voice flat. He pulled a thick stack of cash from his wallet and dropped it on the silk sheets beside her. He didn't look at her face.
She sat up, clutching the sheet to her chest. Her eyes were wide and confused. "Theodore ? That's it?"
He buttoned his crisp, white shirt, his movements sharp and efficient. "What else did you expect? Breakfast?"
"I'm not… I'm not a prostitute," she stammered, her voice shaking.
"Then stop acting like one. The door is that way." He pointed, his gaze cold and final.
He turned his back on her, walking toward the window. He heard the rustle of sheets, the quick footsteps, and the soft click of the door closing. She was gone.
Silence filled the penthouse. It was a heavy, expensive silence that pressed down on him. He should feel something—power, satisfaction, even boredom. But he felt nothing. Just a familiar, hollow emptiness.
His phone buzzed on the glass table. The screen lit up with one word: FATHER.
Theodore 's jaw tightened. William Roosevelt didn't call to chat. He called to give commands. Theodore considered ignoring it, but he knew better. He snatched the phone.
"What?" he answered.
"The games are over, Theodore ." His father's voice was like gravel, hard and unforgiving. "You are thirty-three. The board of directors is nervous. Our investors want to see stability. They want a future for the company."
Theodore forced a lazy laugh. "So get a dog. They're stable."
"Do not be a fool!" William snapped. "You need an heir. A legitimate son or daughter to carry on the Roosevelt name. If you don't, everything—the company, the fortune, the properties—will go to your cousin, Brent."
Theodore 's hand clenched around the phone. Brent was a vulture, stupid and greedy. He would destroy their empire in a year just for the fun of it.
"You have six months," his father continued, his tone leaving no room for argument. "Find a woman and get married, or find another way to produce a child. An heir. Those are your only choices."
"I'm not interested in marriage," Theodore growled.
"Then lose your interest in being a billionaire!" William shouted. "No heir, no inheritance. You will be cut off. You will have nothing. Do you understand me, you ungrateful bastard?"
The line went dead.
Theodore threw his phone across the room. It hit the leather sofa and bounced onto the thick carpet. He poured a glass of amber whiskey, his knuckles white. Marriage? The thought made his skin crawl. A wife would mean smiles that hid lies, sweet words that carried poison, just like his mother had done to his father.
But a child… an heir without a wife? A baby born from a business deal, with no messy emotions or betrayals?
That was a problem he could solve with money.
By the next morning, his plan was set.
His lawyer, Peter Walsh, arrived at the penthouse. Peter was a sharp man in a perfect suit, known for making problems disappear.
"No marriage," Theodore stated, pushing a file across the table. "I want a surrogate. Find a woman. She must be healthy, smart, and have no drama in her life. This is a business transaction."
Peter opened the file. "You're ordering a child like you'd order a new car."
"Make sure it's a flawless model," Theodore said, his voice cold. "This child will be my legacy."
"And the mother?" Peter asked carefully.
"Once the baby is born, she is paid and she disappears. Forever. I want a contract that guarantees it. No contact. No custody battles. Pay her whatever it takes."
Peter nodded, understanding. "I know a private agency. They are very discreet. I will find you the perfect candidate."
"Good. Do it quickly."
As Peter left, Theodore stood alone in his vast living room. He looked at the empty space. Soon, there would be a child here. A son or daughter to carry his name forward. He would build a wall of money and rules to protect them both. No one would get close enough to hurt them.
He would be a better father than his own. He would be cold, but he would be honest. And he would never, ever let love make him weak.
---
Across the city, in a hospital that smelled of antiseptic and fear, Nancy Andersen felt the world crumbling beneath her feet.
The doctor's words echoed in her mind. "The heart surgery is urgent, Ms. Andersen. The cost is twenty million dollars. Without it… I'm sorry, but your father's chances are very low."
Twenty million.
The number was a physical weight on her chest, making it hard to breathe. She looked at her father, asleep in the hospital bed. He looked pale and small. He was all the family she had left.
Tears burned her eyes, but she refused to let them fall. Crying wouldn't save him. She had no money. Her waitressing job barely paid for their tiny apartment, let alone a life-saving surgery. She was completely, utterly trapped.
She stepped out into the hallway, pulling out her cheap, cracked phone. She had no one to call for help. But then, a message flashed on the screen. It was from Lisa, her roommate.
Lisa: Nancy, are you sitting down? I found something online. It's… wild. But it pays a fortune. Like, more money than we'll ever see in our lives.
Nancy's heart beat faster. She typed back quickly.
Nancy:What is it? I'll do anything.
Lisa: It's a surrogacy agency. They're looking for a healthy woman to carry a baby for a rich family. The pay is insane. But it's a huge commitment.
Nancy stared at the words. Carry a baby. For a stranger.
Her first instinct was horror. How could she carry a child for nine months and just… give it away?
She looked back through the window at her father. His slow, labored breathing. The steady beep of the heart monitor.
This wasn't about her anymore. This was about his life.
She thought of the cold, empty feeling in her stomach. The feeling of having no options. Then she thought of the hollow emptiness in the billionaire's penthouse. Two different worlds, about to collide.
Her fingers trembled as she typed her reply.
Nancy: Send me the link. I'm interested.
She leaned her head against the cold hospital wall, closing her eyes. She was about to make a deal with the devil. But to save her father, she would sell a piece of her soul.