THE BILLIONAIRE'S HIDDEN AGENDA

I am currently standing on my balcony. It’s already ten in the evening, yet I’m still outside, holding a glass of wine and slowly sipping from it. My eyes are fixed on the flickering lights coming from houses, towering buildings, shops, malls, street lamps, and countless other sources of illumination. I can see all of it clearly from the balcony of my apartment here in Paris, France. It’s been ten years since I came here. Ten years since I pursued my career as a writer. A bitter smile forms on my lips as a thought crosses my mind. It has been years since I last had any contact with my family, with my friends— with anyone from my past. Ten years ago… I chose to run away. After I graduated from college, I simply disappeared. I still remember how Mommy and Daddy tried calling me over and over before I went far away, but I ignored them. I even threw away my SIM card. I deleted all my social media accounts as well. I press my fingers against my temple when a sharp pain suddenly throbs there. s**t. I need to rest. I have to finish what I’m writing tomorrow, or else nothing good will come out of this. I am a world-famous author, yet no one knows what I look like because I chose to keep my identity private. Otherwise, Dad might track me down—along with other people I have wronged in the past. Ever since I was a child, this has been my passion. I’m a hopeless romantic, though it doesn’t really show. I never got the chance to take my master’s degree, even though I wanted to so badly, because I flew straight here. If I really wanted to, I could study here, but I chose my career first. I wasn’t sure if I could balance studying and writing at the same time. My writing career bloomed so suddenly. I merely submitted my manuscript to one of the publishing houses here in France. Fortunately, it only took them two weeks to read it before they accepted my story. It was perfect timing too—I barely had enough money back then. Through this, little by little, I managed to lift myself out of poverty. My thoughts are interrupted when my cellphone rings from inside my bedroom. I immediately leave the balcony and head inside. I see my phone lying beside the bed, so I pick it up and answer the call right away. It’s Dr. Laurent. Dr. Laurent is my doctor for IVF—In Vitro Fertilization. To be honest, I had already thought about this a long time ago. I just don’t see myself having a husband, a complete family, or whatever people usually dream of. Call me selfish if you want, but in this generation, I no longer see decent men like the fictional characters I write about in my novels. Many have tried to court me, but after just a few days, I already see their red flags. I’ve tried dating people of different nationalities here in France, but none of them ever really caught my interest. My standards for men are high. I don’t want to tie myself to a man when I know that, at the end of the day, I won’t gain anything from it. “Hello, Dr. Laurent? What’s the matter?” I ask immediately. She’s in her late forties, yet age doesn’t seem to affect her at all. She’s so damn beautiful—well, she’s French, so you’d expect nothing less. “I just want to announce some good news to you,” she says, and I can hear the excitement and happiness in her voice. Even though she said it was good news, I can’t help but feel nervous. What if it’s something else entirely? “I’ve already found your sperm donor! Luckily, he’s German—and mind you, he’s so damn handsome!” she says, sounding like she’s practically swooning. I can’t help but frown. “Hold on, Doc. Did you check his background? What if he has HIV? Hepatitis? Or some other disease that will—” “Tiffany, this donor is a businessman and a decent man. We’ve already checked his background. He’s a billionaire, and this is his first time donating sperm. You know, he’s getting old and needs to have an heiress,” she explains, then chuckles lightly. I fall into thought. Hmm. I don’t want to share. I want my child to be mine alone. “Wait, Dr. Laurent, but… I told you, I just want my own child. I don’t share what’s mine,” I say. “But all of your preferences matched him. We couldn’t find anyone else who fits your criteria.” I take a deep breath at her words. “B-But there’s—” “It’s free, Ms. Tiffany. You won’t pay for the operation or the sperm because this man already paid everything for you,” she says. My mouth falls open. s**t?! Did I hear that right? Everything is free? I won’t pay anything? All I have to do is accept his sperm and carry his child? I never expected this. I bite my lip, suddenly nervous. s**t. Writing is how I make a living, and I grabbed this opportunity just to have a donor so that I would only have to pay for the operation. “I told you, I’ll pay for the operation, but I will not share my child with his own father,” I can’t stop myself from saying. The line goes silent for a moment before she speaks again. “But this is better, Tiffany. You won’t spend any money to bear a child. Still, it’s up to you if you want to grab this opportunity. This isn’t for everyone. You’re lucky—there’s a man looking for a woman who will bear his child, someone who will give him an heiress.” I swallow hard. I do want a child. And if I do, I want that child to be mine alone. It’s not about being greedy—I just want it to be just the two of us. That’s all. It’s irritating. “Doc… I don’t need a husband. I only want a child,” I say, irritation creeping into my voice. “I’m not saying you’ll have a husband if you accept this offer,” she replies calmly. I suddenly feel embarrassed. Was I just assuming things? “O-Okay. Just call me again for another update and for the exact date when my operation will start,” I say. After the call ends, I lie down on my bed and stare at the ceiling. I only want a child. Not because I’m selfish, but because I want the child to be mine alone. No sharing. But Doc said he’s decent—and a billionaire at that! Damn it, it’s like I accidentally caught a goldfish in a river. Still, I’ll think about it first. I don’t want to make a rushed decision and regret it in the end. I used to dream of having a happy family, but something changed along the way—though I don’t even know exactly what. I want to be alone, yet I’m scared of growing old with no one beside me. I don’t want to get married. That’s why, when David—one of my editors—mentioned IVF in one of my stories, it stuck with me. All I need is my egg and a sperm donor. They’ll take my egg, fertilize it with the sperm, and after a few days or weeks, once it becomes an embryo, they’ll place it into my uterus so I can get pregnant. Simple. Easy. I hesitated at first, but the thought just wouldn’t leave my mind. So I tried. I hope everything turns out fine.