Kaushiki's point of view:

As father was put to bed, me and my mother sat down at the table for dinner.

She quietly filled my plate with rotis.

"I said yes to Mrs. Mukherjee," I blurted.

Her hand froze mid-air. "What?! Why?"

"It's important. I need some money-we need money." I said, "For how long shall we keep living on the mercy of their family? It's time I repay something back," I said firmly.

"Repaying with your own body?" she asked, her voice breaking.

I forced a smile, trying to sound stronger than I felt. "I am giving them a life, a child. It's a divine process-something so pure and honourable. I would be grateful to be the mother of the heir." I tore off a piece of roti and took a bite. "Besides, the whole process will be done in machines. Tomorrow we'll file a contract and see the penthouse I'll be living in."

Her eyes widened. "What-you will stay somewhere else?"

"Yes, of course. The mother of the heir won't live in a run-down alley. They're giving me the best penthouse in the city. The most luxurious one. And after everything, Mrs. Mukherjee, being the generous woman she is, will also give that penthouse to me."

"Really?" she whispered disbelief.

"Yes," I said, nodding. "You can come and visit me anytime you want... but I don't want to tell father what's going on."

"Then what will you say?" Ma asked, her eyes narrowing at me.

I shifted uncomfortably, playing with the edge of my roti. "I'll tell him... I'm going out of the city for work. A special job assigned by them."

"And in your absence, how will I handle everything?" she asked, almost panicked.

I quickly leaned forward, trying to reassure her. "Don't worry, Ma. Mrs. Mukherjee will send seventy thousand every month. She'll also arrange a housekeeper to take care of everything here."

I smiled faintly, "And after... after the birth, she promised me a blank cheque. Plus, a job at Little Laureates. Can you believe it? A school I couldn't even dream of working in before..."

"They are really generous. All this for just a child? You know Seema, the neighbour who's your age? She got married and already has two kids, both girls... and her in-laws still treat her so poorly because of it." She shook her head with disgust.

My eyes widened. "What? In this age people still think like that?"

"Yes... uncultured family. When you were born, all of us were so happy, including the relatives. Your father distributed laddoos to the whole neighbourhood, telling everyone that Goddess Lakshmi herself had entered his life. And you really were Lakshmi for him, after your birth, he got that job at the Mukherjee household."

A small smile crept on my face. My heart softened as gratitude warmed me. For everything.

•••

Nirvaan's point of view:

I sat down for dinner; Mom and Dad were already at the table.

Father was having chicken curry, a perfectly poached egg balanced over steaming rice, and a glass of bourbon resting beside his plate.

I was served spaghetti with meatballs, paired with a red blend wine.

Mom, ever the eclectic one, had tteokbokki and kimchi on her plate, accompanied by a chilled summer vodka fizz in her tall flute. The faint scent of citrus and spice lingered in the air from her drink.

As usual, a classical piece of Mozart drifted from the grand piano speakers tucked discreetly into the corners of the dining hall. The chef, in his crisp whites, stood a polite distance away, hands clasped neatly waiting for our approval.

We each took our first bite in silence. The flavors, as always, were immaculate. A simple nod from Father, a faint smile from Mother, and I raised my glass slightly. The chef inclined his head, murmured a quiet "thank you, sir, ma'am" and slipped out, leaving the three of us in the vast, polished quiet of our own home.

A peaceful dinner, framed by porcelain plates and silver cutlery that had been passed down for generations.

Now, we were alone.

"So, I have spoken with the surrogate mother and she agreed," Mom announced.

The timing, of course, was impeccable just as I had begun to enjoy the quiet rhythm of dinner. But moods don't matter in my family. Practicalities always come first.

A question lingered at the back of my mind - how many attempts does it usually take for conception? I should have looked into it when I was researching all this.

Father set down his glass of bourbon, his gaze shifting, the faintest glint of command returning to his eyes. "How much are we paying?" he asked, voice practiced and all business again.

I couldn't help but smirk. Even in retirement, he carried that air. It was this very presence that shaped me, and every time I saw it resurface, I was reminded why he has always been my greatest example.

"The penthouse by the Ganges, a blank check, a position at Little Laureates, and certain allowances for her family. Later, I intend to purchase land in her name as well," Mother stated calmly.

I nearly choked on my food.

What in the world...?

"That's quite an expensive surrogate," I muttered under my breath.

A gold digger, no doubt. Where on earth did Mother even find a woman like that?

The unease in my chest deepened. I have a very bad feeling about this.

"Expensive?" she arched a brow. "This is a natural process. Do you even understand the hardships involved?"

I leaned back, calculating,

"I have done my research. The standard fee for a surrogate mother is twenty-five lakhs. Considering our family's name and status, I doubled it to fifty - more than generous. Since this is to be a natural conception, let us raise it further to one crore still within reason given the circumstances. But with a blank cheque in her hands, she could just as easily write five crores... after all, it's your chequebook you're offering."

"Yes, Swastika. I have never meddled in your business, but this is unnecessarily costly. Are you sure you aren't getting scammed? The penthouse you're talking about already cost us 14 crores, and now the selling price must've reached way higher. It's in prime property, designed in proper Mumbai style," Dad said.

I snickered, stabbing at my food. "Mom, she is looting you."

"I know what I'm doing. I won't change my mind," she shot back.

"And that penthouse doesn't even belong to you, it belongs to your son. Did you ask for his permission?" Father countered.

I smirked at Mom. She froze, flustered, unable to come up with anything.

Seeing her like that melted my heart.

"It's okay, Mom. You don't have to worry so much," I said softly. "But at least tell me, why are you so eager to get scammed by a gold digger?"

"She is not a gold digger!" Mother snapped, her voice trembling with urgency. "She has never asked me for anything, ever! I had to persuade her into this, and I truly want her to be the mother, not anybody else."

Father shook his head, muttering under his breath, "What sort of madness is this..."

I exhaled slowly, leaning back in my chair. "Fine. Let's go ahead and hire this very expensive surrogate mother. After all, she'll be providing us with an heir-and she also happens to be my mother's favourite choice."

"This is insanity," Father grumbled, rubbing his temple.

"Gaurav, stop being so miserly!" Mother shot back.

"Miserly?" Father scoffed. "Honey, this isn't a matter of a few thousands or lakhs. We are talking about crores."

I raised a hand lightly. "It's alright, let it be." My tone was calm, almost weary, attempting to diffuse the storm.

"Your father-" Mother began again, but I cut her off gently.

"Mom, may I have dinner in peace, please?"

That silenced them both. The table finally grew quiet.

So, my mother is being swayed by a gold digger. That woman must possess remarkable skill in manipulation.

I wouldn't be surprised if she attempts her charm on me as well.

But, alas, I am not my mother. I am not a gentle and soft-hearted lady.

I am a cold-blooded bastard when it comes to business, and this, too, is nothing but a business deal. Whatever I lose to her, I'll make sure to take back-paisa by paisa.

"What's her name, by the way?" I asked.

"Kaushiki," my mother chimed in. "Her mother worked here as a maid for a few years."

"A maid's daughter with such lofty demands?" my father scoffed.

"She's a good girl," my mother insisted.

Good girl? Has she bewitched my mother with some kind of black magic?

What a dangerous woman.

•🤍•

Kaushiki's point of view

The next few days passed in a blur. So much happened.

Mrs. Mukherjee had me sign the contract. It basically meant I could sue her if she didn't give me everything she promised. And... I had to have intercourse with Nirvaan Mukherjee until I got pregnant. Then, live a healthy life for the sake of the baby. Take care of myself properly before handing the child over to Inayat.

I'm allowed to be in their lives... but only as the surrogate mother. Nothing more. Or... what else am I even thinking?

So here I was, sitting in the penthouse I moved into just yesterday. Evening light filtered through the huge windows, and my heart was hammering like crazy.

The penthouse itself... wow. Double-height ceilings that made everything feel impossibly spacious. Floor-to-ceiling windows letting in natural light and showing both the city skyline and the Ganges. A modular kitchen with smart appliances. A private rooftop deck with a Jacuzzi, more like a mini swimming pool.

Private elevator access straight into the penthouse. Home automation everywhere: lighting, curtains, security and temperature control. Walk-in closets in the bedrooms, a cinematic home theater, bar area, personal gym, spa-style bathrooms with rain showers and Jacuzzis, marble vanities... even a library.

Everything was cream, white, and black. Sleek. Expensive. Elegant.

And then my eyes landed on the giant wall photograph by the bar of Nirvaan, standing tall beside a horse. The sheer presence of him was everywhere in this space. This was his penthouse.

And I was... just a girl from a small house, here to play a very important role in their world.

And now... the reason I'm nervous.

Tonight. Tonight is the night Nirvaan is coming. The night we have to... do the deed.

How the hell am I even supposed to react?!

Shit... Should I just run away? Or jump off the balcony? We're on the twentieth floor, after all.

After he turned nine, he was sent abroad for studies. A year later, my father's accident happened, and my visits to the Mukherjee house became rare. Only during big functions was I invited, the ones where Nirvaan would also come-important ones, not every little gathering. In the crowd, it was always easier to hide, slip away from his gaze.

Always... hiding from him, running from him.

Even as a child, his presence did something to me I could never understand.

His deep and dark eyes... they felt like they could swallow me whole. His voice, polished and elegant, made me feel like dirt clinging to the soles of his shoes.

Everything about him from his posture, his manners and even the faint scent lingering from him screamed wealth, power, privilege. Everything I am not.

And then there's Inayat di. Everything about her was the life I could never have: confident, gorgeous, extroverted and wealthy. They were both a year older than me, but somehow always felt a world apart.

And now... I have to face him alone, in this penthouse that reeks of his presence.

I really didn't want him to notice me. Not now, not ever. His acknowledgment would make my stupid one-sided feelings spiral out of control.

If teenage Nirvaan had spoken to me back then, I probably would have had a heart attack right on the spot. And now... adult Nirvaan? He could very well give me a stroke just by looking at me.

So, naturally, I did what I always did. I stayed hidden. Faded into the background. Tried to make myself invisible.

But, of course, fate had other plans.

God must have been watching and thought, "Oh, you want to run away from him? Fine. How about... sex with him instead?"

Thanks, God. Really. That's exactly the scenario I needed.

I pouted.

"Ma'am, would you like some wine? Mrs. Mukherjee asked me to serve you if you want. It might help with... the process," the housekeeper said gently.

I don't usually drink, but... today felt different. I nodded.

I had seen the Mukherjees sip wine during dinner instead of water. It looked... sophisticated. Maybe it would calm my nerves, even just a little.

I curled up on the couch in the lounge area. The walls were floor-to-ceiling glass, giving a panoramic view of the city. The lights from below glimmered like stars; with them, I didn't even need the room lights.

The floor was dark wood, the walls painted black. Only the golden glow from the ceiling fixtures and standing lamps cut through the darkness.

It was beautiful. Gorgeous, even. But no amount of elegance could erase the knot of nerves twisting inside me. If only I could have been here under any other circumstances...

The wine arrived. I thanked Sonali, the househelp, and took a sip.

YUCK!

WHAT THE HECK. THAT'S DISGUSTING.

How could anyone drink this... rotten red juice with a straight face? Even neem juice would taste better.

"What happened? Are you alright?" Sonali asked, concern in her voice.

"Yes, I'm fine," I said, forcing a smile through the grimace.

She nodded. "Would you like something with it?"

I shook my head.

"Alright, ma'am," she said before leaving me alone.

I closed my eyes, pressed my nose, and gulped down the rest of the wine in one go.

UGHH.

I put the glass down and exhaled. Already, a light warmth spread through me. I felt... giggly.

Hehe... okay, now I understand why they drink this stuff.

"Sonali, dear, can you pour me some more of this wine?" I asked, feeling a little bolder.

"Yes, ma'am," she replied.

"And... bring some chocolates too. I saw some in the fridge," I added.

"Of course, ma'am. On it," she said.

•🤍•

Nirvaan's Point of View.

"Look who's wasting himself in here," I looked up from my glass to see my cousin strolling toward me.

He owned this bar, a distant cousin from my mother's side.

I was a little buzzed-fourth glass in, the edges of my mind pleasantly softened.

"Look at you... all red," he said, smirking.

Really? Did I drink that much?

"Hi. Long time," I replied.

"Oh yes. How would someone like you ever have time for people like us?" He clapped a hand on my shoulder.

I chuckled, and took a sip"Don't touch me, peasant."

He laughed, stepping back toward the bar counter. "But seriously... what's up, man?"

I looked down at the dancing figures below, the private section keeping me secluded, a glass in hand, away from the noise and the crowd.

Now my cousin has joined me.

"I felt like drinking, so here I am. But..." I glanced at my watch. Past nine.

The surrogate must be waiting.

"I should get going," I said, rising smoothly.

Without checking the exact amount, I pulled out some cash, feeling the thickness of the bundle, more than enough and placed it on the counter.

"Let's stay in touch," I muttered.

"Arey, what are you doing, brother? How can I take money from you? Of course, it's on the house," he said, waving me off.

"Are you sure? I don't like mixing family with business," I said.

"I know what I'm doing. Keep it," he replied.

This was how the rich stayed rich.

I nodded, sliding the cash back into my pocket, better manners than leaving it and turned to leave.

I walked to my waiting car, slid inside, and told the driver to go.

Leaning back, I rested my head against the seat and shut my eyes.

I just hope I get hard. That's all.

After the ride, I took the private lift straight up to the penthouse.

I leaned against the mirrored wall, my body heavy and my head spinning.

I was wasted, drunk enough to feel it in every step.

I shouldn't have had this much, not when meeting someone new. That's just bad manners.

The lift dinged softly, doors sliding open.

I stepped out into the lounge. It was dark.

The only sound was the echo of my shoes clicking against the floor, slicing through the silence.

And then I saw a bunny peeking from the edge of the couch.

Not really a bunny, but the way she moved, the way her eyes darted, it reminded me of one.

She stood up fully.

Long and dark hair spilling down her back, almond-shaped eyes that seemed too deep to hold, lips plump like fresh roses.

Her figure... Her body was what they call hour glass shaped, fat at all the right places. Voluptuous thighs that made my thoughts stumble. God, I had never let my thoughts stumble into such territory before.

She wasn't just cute. No. She was-what do they call it? Hot.

Dangerous in a way innocence shouldn't be.

I've seen women before, at galas, at high tables, dressed in jewels and silk. But this. . . this was different.

She didn't need diamonds. She didn't need anything.

She was the kind of woman who could pull a man in with just a glance, make him forget who he was, and turn him into nothing but someone desperate to stay at her feet.

A siren.

"Who are you?" I asked.

"The surrogate," she mumbled. Her voice was soft and sweet-so damn sweet it made my penis twitch.

I clenched my jaw and stepped closer. She looked nervous.

No... scared.

Like I was some wild beast about to tear her apart.

She dropped her gaze, shy and quiet.

A weird wave of nostalgia hit me. Why? I had no clue.

But it was too sweet. The kind of sweetness I'd craved for a long time.

Like honey dripping slowly.

"We are... going to spend the night. Tonight." I said, not knowing what else to say. Truth was, I just wanted her to open her mouth again, to hear that soft voice.

She didn't respond.

Will she stay this quiet when we will do it?

Shit... I thought the surrogate would be someone unlikable, maybe older and worn down. But no - she looks young. Too fucking young.

How old is she?

Is she even experienced? Why does it feel like Mom just dragged in some random girl off the street?

"Are... are you being forced into this?" I asked, voice tighter than I meant.

Her head snapped up instantly, and then I saw her eyes properly. Big. Untamed. Like staring into something wild I couldn't name.

"No, young master. I came here willingly!" she said.

Her voice again.

Her sweet and soft voice again!

I gulped. My body reacted before my brain could catch up.

Shockingly.

I looked down-my penis was pressing against my pants, standing tall like it hadn't in ages.

Fuck.

I am actually hard.

This woman... this surrogate... she's the only one who's managed to make me hard.

No one else. Not a single damn woman in this world.

But her? She's done it without even trying.

I smirked feeling the heat coil inside me.

It's going to be a long night.

Author's Note:

Regular updates will start from next Friday (02.01.2026), Saturday and Sunday.