Surrogate to the Alpha

Chapter Eleven

“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‑fall, and stopping now would be more humiliating than continuing.

“I didn’t mean to hit your car,” I blurted.

Beth choked on her own breath.

Corrine’s eyebrows shot up so high they nearly left her face.

Derek closed his eyes like he was praying for strength.

“I mean, obviously I didn’t mean to,” I continued, hands flailing like they were trying to escape my body. “Who wakes up and says, ‘You know what I’d love to do today? Commit a light vehicular crime’? Not me. Definitely not me.”

Corrine let out a soft, delighted gasp—the kind people make when they witness a scandal they can’t wait to tell their group chat about.

I guess I was right about providing her entertainment.

I sighed, seeing myself through their eyes.

This did not look good.

I was drifting further and further away from looking like a stable adult fit to carry and birth a child.

Derek opened his eyes again, and the look he gave me could have melted steel.

Beth—poor beige, red‑lipped Beth—looked like she was about to faint.

“Josephine,” she whispered, “is this… is this a joke?”

“I wish,” I muttered. At this point, all was essentially lost.

Derek stepped forward, and the room suddenly felt too small. Too bright. Too oxygen‑deprived.

Was this where he squashed me like a bug?

He wouldn’t physically hurt me… would he?

“You ran,” he said quietly. “You hit my car and ran.”

“I panicked!” I squeaked. “I was late meeting Beth—” I gestured to the woman, who visibly winced, “—at the clinic for the tests. For… this. And I didn’t want to be late. And then you were yelling at me and you are, you know, huge, so I bolted, hoping I could at least make it to the clinic in time.”

Corrine made a strangled noise that might have been a laugh or a scoff or both.

Derek’s nostrils flared, but I couldn’t miss how his stance shifted and he took the tiniest step back.

I’m not sure if he did it on purpose or without realising, but it eased my panic and the intrusive thoughts about him crushing me like a soda can.

“You left the scene of an accident,” he said.

“I left the scene of a misunderstanding,” I corrected weakly. “A very stressful misunderstanding.”

Beth pressed a hand to her forehead. “Oh dear God.”

“I was going to come back!” I lied. Badly. “Eventually. Probably. Maybe.”

Corrine leaned in, voice dripping with venomous sweetness.

“So you’re telling us,” she said, “that the woman your agency found as the best fit to carry Derek’s child is the same woman who crashed into him and then fled the scene like a criminal?”

Both Beth and I cringed.

“I’m not a criminal,” I whispered, defeated. “I’m just… unlucky.”

Derek barked a humourless laugh. “That’s one word for it.”

Beth looked like she was calculating how quickly she could retire. Or say to hell with it all and move to Timbuktu.

I took a shaky breath. “Look, I know this looks bad—”

“It is bad,” Corrine cut in, her gaze steely, not a hint of previous amusement left.

“—but I’m a good person,” I insisted. “I swear. I’m responsible. I’m careful. I’m—”

“You were weaving in and out of traffic and hit a car,” Derek said flatly.

“It wasn’t weaving in and out,” I muttered. “It was… changing lanes. Repeatedly.” I whispered the last part, mortified.

Corrine’s lips twitched. “Oh, she’s most definitely unhinged.”

I ignored her.

The psychiatrist who did my evaluation had used the exact opposite words, and I was choosing to trust their professional opinion.

“I didn’t know it was your car. I didn’t know you’d be here. I didn’t know any of this would happen. I just— I needed the money. My mum’s sick. I’m trying. I’m really, really trying.”

The room went quiet.

Not the peaceful kind.

The heavy kind.

The kind that presses on your chest.

Derek’s expression shifted—not softening, but recalibrating.

Assessing.

Measuring the truth in my voice.

Beth cleared her throat, voice trembling. “Mr. Blackwell, perhaps we should all take a moment to—”

“No.”

Corrine’s voice sliced through the air. “This is over. She’s clearly not suitable.”

Something inside me snapped.

“Suitable?” I repeated, heat rising in my cheeks. “I’m not a handbag.”

Her smile turned icy. “You’re right. A handbag would be more reliable.”

Beth made a small dying noise.

I squared my shoulders—not dramatically, because my legs were shaking, but enough to show I wasn’t going to be steamrolled.

“I made a mistake,” I said, looking directly at Derek. “A stupid one. But I’m not a bad person. And I’m not irresponsible. I’m doing this because I need to save my mum. I’m doing this because I want to help someone have a family. I’m doing this because I thought—”

My voice cracked.

“I thought I could do something good for once and have a bit of goodness come back my way.”

Silence.

Corrine rolled her eyes. “Oh please.”

But Derek… Derek didn’t look away.

His jaw was still tight.

His shoulders still tense.

But something in his eyes shifted—confusion, frustration, something else I couldn’t name.

Beth clasped her hands together like she was praying for divine intervention.

“Perhaps,” she said carefully, “we should all sit down and—”

“No,” Derek said again.

But this time… this time it didn’t sound like the same “no.”

It wasn’t final.

It wasn’t cold.

It wasn’t a slammed door.

It was a door cracked open.

A dangerous one.

And just when I thought I welcomed that, he went ahead and opened it fully.

“I want a moment alone with Miss Carter.”

Beth jumped forward, sheer panic written all over her face.

“I’m afraid that won’t be possible at this stage of the matching process—”

“I said I need a moment alone with Miss Carter.”

He gritted the words out, and Beth—

to my absolute surprise—

nodded and clamped her mouth shut.

Corrine scoffed, outraged.

She opened her mouth to argue—

And Derek growled.

A real, low, animalistic growl that made my skin prickle and cold sweat bead down my back.

Corrine froze, her mouth hanging open like she’d just been slapped by the air itself. For a moment she looked genuinely unsure whether to argue, faint, or combust on the spot.

She stood there, spine straight, eyes blazing, lips pressed into a thin, furious line.

“I’m not leaving you alone with her,” she hissed, like I was a feral raccoon loose in the room.

Derek didn’t even look at her. His eyes were trained on me and my own shocked expression.

“Corrine. Out.”

She let out a sharp, disbelieving laugh. “You can’t be serious—”

“Now.”

The word cracked through the room like a whip.

Beth jumped so hard she nearly dropped her papers.

Corrine’s nostrils flared, her jaw tightening as if she were physically swallowing her pride — or a scream.

She shot me a look that could have curdled milk, then spun on her heel and followed Beth out.

The door shut behind them with a soft click. For some reason I expected it to slam and mentally prepared for that. it confused me that it didn't.

I blinked and suddenly it was just me and Derek. Alone.