

Description
Lila Hart has been in love with her best friend's stepfather since she was nineteen. She never planned to act on it. Stefan Hale was off-limits-married, older, and completely out of reach. She told herself the crush would fade. It didn't. When Lila found out he and his wife were looking for a surrogate, she saw a chance. Not for him-for the money. $75,000 to pay off her debt and finally start her life. A simple transaction. Nine months, then she walks away and forgets any of this ever happened. But nothing about Stefan Hale is simple. And his wife? She knows exactly what Lila wants. She's just waiting for me to slip.
Chapter 1
Dec 11, 2025
[POV Lila]
I arrived at Harper's house on a dreary Thursday afternoon, my eyes still puffy from crying I wouldn't admit to.
The moment she opened the door, I pushed past her and collapsed onto the overstuffed couch, wrapping both hands around the coffee mug she had waiting like it was an anchor keeping me from drowning.
Her house smelled like vanilla candles and takeout Chinese—familiar, safe, everything my own cold studio wasn't.
Harper settled beside me, tucking her legs beneath her. "Okay, spill. You've been dodging my calls for three days, and you look like you haven't slept since Tuesday. What did Jake do?"
I forced a casual shrug that didn't reach my eyes. "He was too immature. I don't have time for boys—I have a mountain of student loans and no plan."
"That's it? That's your explanation?" She grabbed a throw pillow and hugged it to her chest. "Come on, Lila. You were with him for eight months. Something happened."
"Nothing dramatic."
I sipped my coffee, avoiding her knowing stare.
"We just wanted different things. He wanted someone who'd drop everything to watch him play video games, and I wanted someone who understood that some of us have to actually work for a living."
Harper snorted.
"God, he was such a man-child. Remember when he forgot your birthday because he was too busy with that gaming tournament? You deserve someone who actually appreciates your intelligence. Someone who gets that you're going to be a brilliant doctor someday and supports that instead of whining about how you're always studying."
"Yeah, well." I laughed, brittle and hollow. "Maybe I should just focus on medical school applications instead of relationships. Clearly I'm terrible at picking men."
The truth sat heavy in my chest—Jake had called me "emotionally unavailable" and "obsessed with money," and maybe he wasn't entirely wrong.
But with $87,000 in student debt hanging over my head, romance felt like a luxury I couldn't afford. Every date was money I could've put toward interest payments. Every weekend trip was a month's worth of groceries.
"Enough about my disaster of a love life," I said, desperate to shift focus. "How's the new job? Are they still making you work weekends?"
Harper groaned dramatically. "The marketing firm is absolute chaos. My boss thinks 'work-life balance' is a myth invented by lazy people. But the paycheck doesn't suck, so I'm surviving. Barely."
The front door opened mid-conversation, and my heart stuttered.
Stefan, Harper's stepfather, entered from work, exhaustion written in the slope of his shoulders.
He was loosening his tie, sleeves already rolled up to his forearms, looking every bit the successful professional who'd had a grueling day. Salt-and-pepper hair, neatly trimmed beard, those warm eyes that always seemed slightly sad.
My carefully maintained composure threatened to shatter. My body responded before my mind could stop it—spine straightening, fingers tucking hair behind my ear, that familiar flutter in my stomach I'd been fighting for three years.
"Hello, Mr. Hale," I managed warmly, my voice miraculously steady despite the chaos underneath.
"Stefan," Harper called out casually, barely looking up from her phone. "Mom's working late again. She said don't wait up."
Their dynamic was more like roommates than parent figure and child—a product of Harper being twenty-one and Stefan having married her mother Elanor when she was already sixteen.
They'd never quite figured out the father-daughter thing, settling instead into an easy friendship built on mutual respect and shared tolerance of Eleanor's demanding schedule.
Stefan offered us both a tired but genuine smile. "Long day, ladies? Can I get you anything from the kitchen? I think we have those cookies you like, Lila—the ones with the dark chocolate?"
He remembered. Of course he remembered.
"I'm okay, thank you," I said, watching him move through the space with that quiet confidence, that gentle attentiveness that made me feel seen in ways Jake never had.
The way he asked about my classes without condescension, the way he'd remembered weeks ago that I took my coffee with oat milk.
I forced myself to look away, studying my coffee like it held secrets.
That's Harper's stepdad, I reminded myself with vicious clarity. Off limits. Forever off limits. A fantasy that needs to die.
Once Stefan's footsteps faded upstairs, Harper's entire demeanor shifted to gossipy excitement. She leaned in conspiratorially, eyes bright with the thrill of sharing family drama.
"Okay, so—my mom and Stefan have been trying for baby."
I nearly choked on my coffee. "What?"
"I know, right? Stefan wants it more than Mom, but... it's not happening. Mom's forty-three, and the doctors basically said her eggs are dust at this point. Very depressing conversation to overhear, let me tell you."
I frowned, genuinely puzzled. "That's... really personal, Harper. Should you be telling me this?"
"Oh please, it's not like it's a secret." She waved off my concern with characteristic bluntness. "They've been thinking about a surrogate though. Mom mentioned it at dinner last week like she was discussing hiring a new gardener."
"A surrogate?" I set down my mug, processing. "Seriously?"
"Totally serious. Stefan’s already researched agencies, looked into the legal stuff. He’s approaching the whole thing like a business merger. And Mom, well… She’s just being my Mom—always too busy for anything."
My immediate reaction was visceral lack of understanding mixed with fascination.
"I can't imagine how any woman would agree to that. Carrying a baby for someone else? Nine months of morning sickness, swollen feet, stretched skin, labor pain—all to hand over the baby to someone else afterward? It's all downsides. Your body is never the same."
"But their bank account is all upsides," Harper laughed, scrolling through her phone. "Do you even realize how much money surrogate mothers make? I looked it up out of pure curiosity."
"How much?" I asked, trying to sound casual even as my pulse quickened.
Harper looked up, grinning. "Try sixty to ninety thousand. Plus medical expenses covered completely. Plus monthly allowances for food and whatever else. It's insane money."
The number hit me like a physical force. My mind immediately started calculating—student loans gone, medical school funded.
No more choosing between groceries and textbooks. No more anxiety attacks over credit card bills.
Harper kept talking about the agency they were considering, the screening process, but I was barely listening. A dangerous, impossible idea was taking root, spreading like wildfire through my practical, desperate mind.
I could apply for this position. Carry Stefan's baby.
Be close to him in a way that was professional but intimate. Help him get what he clearly wanted while solving every financial problem that kept me awake at night.
It was insane. It risked my friendship with Harper, my own sanity, my carefully maintained boundaries.
But that number kept flashing in my mind, and Stefan's tired smile kept replaying, and suddenly the idea didn't feel impossible—just terrifying and necessary in equal measure.

Surrogate Mother For My Friend's Stepfather
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