The bell above the coffee shop door chimes softly as another customer walked in.
"Good morning," Valerie said automatically, lifting her head with a practiced smile as she wiped the counter.
The shop was already busy. Morning rush hour always was. Students grabbing coffee before lectures, office workers in a hurry, the regulars who ordered the same thing every single day.
She had learned to move fast, to smile even when her feet hurt, to ignore the dull ache in her chest whenever she thought too long about the life she used to have.
Basketball practice. Game nights. Crowds chanting her name.
Now it was coffee cups and forced politeness.
"Valerie," Isabel's voice cut in sharply from behind the counter, "table three needs refills."
"I'm on it," Valerie replied, already reaching for the coffee pot.
She carried the tray over, poured the refills carefully, nodded politely at the customers, then turned back toward the counter.
That was when she felt it.
That strange feeling of being watched.
Valerie slowed, her steps faltering just a little. She lifted her eyes instinctively and froze.
He was standing near the window.
Tall. Broad shoulders. Dressed in a dark suit that looked completely out of place among the casual crowd of students and early-morning workers.
His posture was relaxed, hands in his pockets, but his eyes were fixed on her.
Not in a creepy way.
In a… calculating way.
Valerie frowned slightly.
Who was he?
She didn't recognize him as a regular. And judging by the way a few women at the corner table were whispering and sneaking glances in his direction, she wasn't the only one who had noticed him.
"Isabel," Valerie leaned closer and whispered, "do you know that guy?" Since the last incident at the shop, their relationship had moved from enemies to… "something". it's definitely something.
Isabel glanced up, followed her gaze, then shrugged. "Nope. Probably another rich man slumming it for cheap coffee."
Valerie huffed softly and turned away.
Rich or not, he was still a customer.
She grabbed a mug, poured coffee, and walked toward him.
"Good morning," she said, setting the cup down on the table in front of him. "What can I get you?"
Up close, he was… distracting.
Sharp jawline. Calm eyes. The kind of face that looked like it had never been told no.
"I'll have this," he said, his voice low and controlled, tapping the menu lightly. "And… that."
She followed his finger.
"That's a croissant," she said flatly.
His lips twitched. "I know."
She wrote it down. "Anything else?"
"No."
She nodded and turned to leave, but before she could take a step, his voice stopped her.
"You're Valerie Falls."
Her spine stiffened.
She turned slowly. "Do I know you?"
"No," he replied calmly. "But I know you."
That immediately put her on edge.
"I don't give out personal information to customers," she said, her tone guarded.
"I wouldn't expect you to," he replied. "You used to play basketball. Ivy League University. Point guard. MVP."
Her heart skipped.
That name. That school.
She hadn't heard them spoken out loud in a long time.
"I don't play anymore," she said quietly.
"I know."
That irritated her.
She folded her arms. "Then why bring it up?"
He studied her for a moment, as if weighing his words. "Because it matters."
"To who?" she snapped before she could stop herself.
"To me."
Valerie scoffed lightly. "Look, sir, if you're done ordering, I need to get back to work."
She turned again, but this time, something slid across the table.
A folded piece of paper.
"Take it," he said.
She hesitated.
"I don't…"
"Just take it," he repeated, his tone leaving no room for argument.
Against her better judgment, she picked it up.
"What is this?" She asked.
"An opportunity." He replied.
She raised an eyebrow. "Sounds like trouble."
"Only if you let it be."
Their eyes locked for a brief moment. There was something unreadable in his gaze. Not hunger. Not flirtation.
Intent.
Valerie slipped the paper into her apron pocket without opening it. "Enjoy your coffee."
She walked away, her heart beating faster than it should have.
From his seat, Richard Crane watched her retreat.
Strong posture. Confident stride. Even in an apron, she carried herself like an athlete.
Like someone who hadn't been meant for a small life.
"She's perfect," he murmured to himself.
Valerie didn't open the note until her shift ended.
She waited until she was seated on her bed that night, the room dim except for the small lamp beside her. Her mother was already asleep, exhausted from another day of pain and silence.
Valerie pulled the folded paper from her pocket and stared at it for a moment.
Then she opened it.
"I'm looking for a healthy, athletic woman to act as a surrogate.
The compensation is generous. Life-changing.
If you're interested, call me."
A phone number followed.
Her breath caught.
"What the hell…" she whispered.
Surrogate?
She read it again.
And again.
Her mind raced.
This had to be a joke. Or a scam. Or something dangerous.
She dropped the paper onto the bed like it might burn her.
Surrogacy?
She laughed once, short and disbelieving.
"Who even does that?" she muttered.
But the laughter faded quickly.
Because reality crept in.
Bills stacked on the table. Tuition she could no longer pay. A mother who couldn't work. A future that looked smaller every day.
Life-changing money.
She picked the paper up again.
Her fingers trembled.
The next morning, she showed Isabel.
"You won't believe this," Valerie said, sliding the note across the counter while they prepped for the day.
Isabel read it once, then twice.
Her eyes widened. "Val… this is insane."
"Exactly," Valerie replied. "That's why I'm not calling."
Isabel looked up sharply. "Are you mad?"
"What?" Valerie half shouted, surprised at Isabel's outburst.
"Do you know how much 'life-changing money' usually is?" Isabel whispered. "People don't throw those words around for nothing."
"It's still weird."
"So what?" Isabel countered. "Weird doesn't mean bad. Weird just means uncommon."
Valerie shook her head. "It's someone's child, Isabel."
"And it could save your life," Isabel said quietly.
That hit harder.
Valerie fell silent.
Isabel softened her tone. "Look… I'm not saying you should jump into it. But at least hear him out. You can always say no."
Valerie stared at the note.
At the number.
That night, she called.
The phone rang twice.
"Hello?" His voice was calm. Familiar.
"It's Valerie," she said. "From the coffee shop."
"I was hoping you'd call."
Her grip tightened around the phone. "I want to hear the details."
"Good," Richard replied. "Let's meet."
Across the city, Richard leaned back in his chair after the call ended.
Everything was falling into place.
Athletic. Strong. Disciplined.
A perfect vessel.
He didn't tell himself it was anything more than that.
He didn't tell himself the way her eyes challe
nged him had stayed with him long after he left the coffee shop.
He didn't tell himself he was already curious about the woman behind the strength.
He simply stood, adjusted his cufflinks, and prepared for the meeting that would change both their lives.
Whether they were ready or not.