Valerie signed the contract the next morning.
Not with excitement.
Not with tears.
Just quiet acceptance.
She sat at the small kitchen table in their apartment, the contract spread out in front of her like a final exam she hadn't studied for. Her mom was asleep in the next room, breathing softly, her body exhausted from pain and pills and pretending she was fine.
Valerie held the pen for a long time.
"This is insane," she muttered to herself.
Then she signed.
By noon, her phone buzzed.
Unknown Number: "A car is on its way to pick you up."
She stared at the screen.
No greeting. No emojis. No "hope you're well."
Straight to business.
"Figures," she muttered, grabbing her bag.
Isabel nearly choked when Valerie told her.
"You did WHAT?" Isabel whispered, gripping the counter at the coffee shop like it might run away.
"I signed," Valerie replied simply.
Isabel's eyes widened. "You actually signed?"
"Yes."
"For real?"
"Yes, Isabel."
"For an actual billionaire?"
"Yes."
"To carry his actual baby?"
Valerie paused. "Okay, when you say it like that, it sounds worse."
Isabel slapped a hand over her mouth, half shocked, half thrilled. Despite being the one who advised her to go ahead with it, she still had her doubts knowing fully well the kind of person Valerie is.
"Girl… your life just turned into a Netflix series." She said.
"More like a documentary titled Bad Decisions: A Biography."
Isabel laughed, then sobered. "Are you okay?"
Valerie shrugged. "Ask me again in nine months."
The car waiting outside her apartment was black, long, and expensive-looking. The driver wore a suit and opened the door for her.
"Miss Falls," he said politely.
She climbed in, clutching her bag. "Please don't kidnap me."
He blinked. "I…what?"
"I'm joking," she said quickly. "Nervous humour."
The drive was quiet. Too quiet.
Valerie watched the city change as they moved. Busy streets gave way to quieter ones. Tall buildings turned into gated homes and manicured lawns.
When the car finally stopped, she stared.
The guest house was… ridiculous.
White walls. Large windows. A garden that looked like it had its own gardener. It wasn't a house. It was a statement.
"This is where I'm staying?" she asked.
"Yes, miss."
She stepped out slowly. "Wow. I expected a room. Not a lifestyle."
Inside, it was worse. Or better. Depending on how you looked at it.
Modern furniture. Soft lighting. A kitchen bigger than her entire apartment back home.
Valerie dropped her bag. "I could get lost in here."
"You'll be given a schedule," the driver added. "Doctor visits. Security protocols. Dietary guidelines."
She turned. "Dietary what?" She asked, her face vivid with shock.
"No caffeine. Limited sugar. No strenuous activity," he explained.
Valerie frowned. "I played college basketball."
"Yes, miss."
"I ran suicides for fun."
"Yes, miss."
"And now I can't drink coffee?"
He paused. "Correct."
She sighed. "This baby is already ruining my life."
Later that evening, Richard arrived.
No announcement. No dramatic entrance. Just him, stepping into the guest house like he owned the air.
Which, to be fair, he probably did.
"How are you settling in?" he asked.
Valerie crossed her arms. "Your couch is judging me."
He glanced at it. "It's Italian."
"That explains the attitude," She muttered.
A corner of his mouth twitched. "You'll have a house manager. Security stays outside unless necessary."
"I'm not fragile," she said.
"I know," he replied. "But you're valuable."
She raised an eyebrow. "To you?"
"Yes," Richard replied.
She nodded slowly. "Good to know my worth is officially measured."
Richard ignored that. "Medical tests start tomorrow."
"Of course they do."
"And Cynthia will handle logistics."
Valerie stiffened. "Cynthia?"
"Yes."
"The woman from yesterday?"
"She's my secretary."
"And she walks into your office like she pays rent."
"She's been with the company a long time."
Valerie smiled thinly. "I can tell."
Right on cue, heels clicked outside.
Cynthia walked in without knocking.
Again.
She stopped when she saw Valerie.
"Oh," she said, eyes scanning her from head to toe. "You're already here."
Valerie smiled politely. "Surprise."
Cynthia turned to Richard. "I thought we agreed she'd move in after the evaluations."
"We adjusted the timeline," Richard said calmly.
Cynthia's jaw tightened. "Of course."
She handed Valerie a tablet. "These are your schedules. You'll be expected to follow them."
Valerie scrolled. Her face fell. "There's no 'sleep' on here," she stated.
"It's implied," Cynthia replied.
"There's also no 'fun," she further commented.
"That's intentional."
Valerie looked up. "Are you always this cheerful?"
Cynthia's smile was sharp. "I'm efficient."
"Ah," Valerie nodded. "I'm stubborn. This should be fun."
Richard cleared his throat. "Cynthia."
She turned to him immediately. "Yes, Richard?"
Valerie caught it again. The name. The ease.
Something twisted in her chest, and she hated that it did.
"I'll take it from here," Richard said.
Cynthia hesitated. Just a second too long.
"Of course," she said, handing Valerie a final look. "Welcome."
It didn't sound like one.
After she left, Valerie exhaled. "She hates me."
"She doesn't know you," Richard replied.
"She knows enough."
He studied her. "This won't be emotional."
"Good," Valerie said. "Because I already have enough drama."
That night, alone in the massive guest house, Valerie lay awake.
The silence was heavy. Different from the noise of her old life. Different from the chaos.
She stared at the ceiling.
Same man.
Same face.
The man who cut off the sponsorship.
The man who changed everything.
And he didn't even know.
Her phone buzzed.
A message from an unknown number.
Cynthia: Remember your place. This arrangement is temporary.
Valerie star
ed at the screen.
Then typed back.
Valerie: So is your attitude.
She dropped the phone, heart racing.
Outside, the city lights glowed.
Inside, Valerie Falls realized one thing clearly.
This wasn't just about carrying a baby.
This was about survival.
And the game had already begun.