All Chapters of Surrogate to the Alpha: Chapter 11 - Chapter 19

“Wait, just… just hear me out. I can explain.”The words flew out of my mouth before my brain could stop them. The room froze. For a brief second everything was still, suspended in time. You could have heard a mosquito sneeze.Beth’s pen hovered mid‑air. Corrine’s smile sharpened like she’d been waiting for this exact moment—though I can’t imagine why. Maybe watching someone (me) dig their own grave deeper and deeper is her idea of premium entertainment. Derek’s jaw flexed—once, twice—like he was physically restraining himself from walking out or giving me a shove into the aforementioned grave.The fluorescent lights buzzed overhead, flickering like they were nervous too. Fine, that may have been my overactive imagination embellishing the scene, but the tension absolutely deserved dramatic lighting.I swallowed. “Okay, so—”“No.” Derek’s voice cut through the air like a blade.It wasn’t loud. It wasn’t shouted. It was worse—controlled. Cold. Final.But I was already in free‑f

I hurried to get to work even though my world had basically shifted off its axis after meeting Derek — officially, that is. I think part of me was still in shock, and I dreaded the moment the full implications would hit.The diner smelled like burnt coffee, fried onions, and the kind of hopelessness that clung to your clothes long after you left. Comforting, in a tragic way. I breathed in, relieved. I pushed through the back door, tying my apron as I walked in, and spotted Mia wiping down the counter with the enthusiasm of someone who’d been here far too long. Literally. Despite the way she dresses — like a 20‑year‑old — she must be at least three times that age. We always joke that she must secretly be the owner of the diner and is bored, so she pretends to need this job. The way she gives our manager shit, and the fact that he’s clearly scared of her, only supports this running theory.“Mia,” I breathed, dropping my bag on the way to the dining area. “Thank you for covering the mor

DerekDerek Blackwell didn’t like hospitals.He never had.Knowing his surrogate had a mother so ill she practically lived in one did something unpleasant to his insides — a twisting, tightening sensation he refused to name. And though he would never admit it aloud, it chipped away at the anger he’d been holding onto since the accident.Flashbacks of Freya — his mate, his Luna — living her short life either in a hospital bed or in the bedroom at home that resembled one, clawed at the back of his mind. Machines. Monitors. The quiet beeping that still haunted his sleep. The way she’d smiled through pain she never deserved.Not many knew the whole story.Most of the pack certainly didn’t.Freya had been ill all her life. When they discovered they were mates, she had offered Derek an easy out — a chance to reject the bond and live a long, uncomplicated life. But he had refused. He could never reject the gift of a mate, even if fate had been cruel in the giving.The witch — Freya’s grandaunt

The moment Derek disappeared down the hallway, the silence of the mansion settled around me like a heavy velvet curtain. Not oppressive — just… big. Too big. The kind of silence that made you hyper‑aware of your own breathing. And mine was laboured. But since all the medical tests I’d done for this surrogacy gig came back declaring me in excellent condition, I wasn’t worried about my momentary inability to breathe normally.Instead, I stood in the doorway of my new room, staring at the bed like it might swallow me whole.This was my life now. Temporarily. Allegedly.But I had the strange, creeping feeling I’d be here for at least nine months more.I dropped my shoulder bag on the floor and sat on the edge of the mattress. It dipped under my weight like a cloud giving way. I bounced once. Then again. Then a third time because I was an adult and absolutely allowed to test the bounce‑factor of a billionaire’s bed. Needless to say, I have never experienced opulence like this.I laughed at

I woke up far earlier than any sane person should, blinking up at the unfamiliar ceiling and needing a full ten seconds to remember where I was, why I was here, and how on earth my life had spiralled into a situation where I was sleeping in a billionaire’s mansion with a bell cord by the door like I’d accidentally wandered into a period drama. The room was quiet—too quiet—the kind of silence that made you aware of your own heartbeat, and for a moment I lay there wondering if I should get up, stay put, or simply pretend I was invisible until someone told me what the morning protocol was supposed to be.Before I could decide, a knock sounded on the door—firm, controlled, unmistakably Derek. I just knew it was him.I opened it to find the man standing there, looking like he’d been carved from stone and polished by insomnia. His shirt was crisp, his hair slightly mussed in a way that suggested he’d run his hands through it too many times, and his expression was the kind that made you inst