The Surrogate He Discarded

Isobel slowly lifted her head, her eyes trailing upward toward the enormous mansion towering behind Morgan like something pulled from the pages of an old royal fairytale.

The sight stole the breath from her lungs.

Golden light spilled across towering white columns, endless glass windows shimmered beneath the afternoon sun, and elegant balconies curved around the estate like the wings of a palace built for nobility. Beyond the grand entrance, fountains danced beneath perfectly sculpted hedges and colorful flowers bloom in the garden.

Her lips parted soundlessly.

Wonder flooded her expression so openly that it was impossible to hide.

Morgan noticed immediately.

A subtle smirk curved against the corner of his mouth the moment he caught the unmistakable awe shining in her eyes.

To him, this place was normal.

Just another property.

But to Isobel...

This was another universe entirely.

”This...” she whispered softly, almost as though speaking too loudly would shatter the surreal beauty before her. ”This doesn’t even look like a mansion... it looks like a palace.”

The pure innocence in her voice earned a quiet chuckle from Morgan.

She looked genuinely overwhelmed, her wide eyes drifting across every extravagant detail with childlike fascination—as if she had stepped into one of those fantasy castles she used to admire from afar but never imagined entering herself.

And strangely enough...

Morgan found it adorable.

”Well,” he said lazily, slipping one hand into the pocket of his tailored trousers, ”the Foster name comes with certain expectations.”

There was no arrogance in his tone.

No need for it.

Because in Novare, the name Foster already spoke louder than pride ever could.

It was the kind of name that opened locked doors before a knock was even made. The kind that silenced rivals, controlled industries, and made even the powerful lower their heads in respect.

Morgan casually lifted one hand.

Almost instantly, an older gentleman dressed in an immaculate black suit descended the mansion steps with measured elegance. Though clearly in his fifties, the man carried himself with perfect posture and quiet authority, every movement polished by decades of loyal service.

”This is Albert, my butler,” Morgan said. ”He’ll show you around the estate and take you to your room.”

His gaze briefly shifted toward the twins, who were already being carried inside by the nannies.

”You’ll be staying close to the babies, naturally.”

Albert offered her a respectful bow of the head.

”Miss Isobel,” he greeted politely.

Still dazed, Isobel could only blink before giving a small nod in return.

Morgan then glanced at the expensive watch resting against his wrist. For the first time since arriving, something sharper entered his expression—the subtle reminder that men like him were never truly free from responsibility.

”I have a few matters to handle,” he said calmly. ”If you need anything, Albert will take care of it.”

Again, Isobel nodded slowly.

But truthfully, she barely heard him.

Her mind was still struggling to comprehend the world standing before her.

The palace-like estate.

The line of servants waiting near the entrance.

The fountains, gardens, chandeliers, and overwhelming luxury that looked like something straight out of a billionaire romance drama.

None of it felt real.

And standing at the center of it all was Morgan Foster—a man who wore wealth, power, and privilege as effortlessly as kings wore crowns.

Meanwhile, Isobel still felt like an ordinary girl who had somehow wandered into someone else’s dream... and feared that at any moment, she might wake up and lose it all.

...

”Can I call you Uncle Albert?” Isobel asked softly, her voice careful and polite.

The middle-aged butler looked at her in mild surprise before his stern features softened almost instantly.

”Of course, Miss Isobel,” he replied gently. ”You may call me Uncle.”

Isobel found herself studying him more closely.

Though age had carved faint wrinkles across his face, there was something comforting about him—something warm and dependable that reminded her of the kind fathers in old family dramas. His posture remained refined and disciplined, yet his eyes carried kindness instead of cold superiority like many wealthy household staff she had imagined.

For some reason, being around him eased her nervousness a little.

She glanced around the enormous mansion again before asking cautiously,

”This place is so big... I feel like I might get lost.” She hesitated briefly before adding carefully, ”Are there places I’m not allowed to enter?”

Albert’s smile deepened slightly.

A genuine smile this time.

This girl is smart, he thought silently.

Most people brought into the Foster estate became too overwhelmed by luxury to ask important questions.

But Isobel immediately understood there were boundaries inside a house like this.

”Only the third floor is forbidden,” Albert answered calmly. ”That entire floor belongs exclusively to Master Morgan and Madam Kristine.”

As he spoke, his gaze lingered on her a little longer, subtly observing her reaction as though trying to assess what kind of person she truly was.

But Isobel simply nodded obediently.

”I understand.”

Albert quietly withdrew his scrutiny.

”I’ll take you to your room,” he said. ”It’s on the second floor beside the nursery.”

He then guided her toward the massive spiral staircase at the center of the mansion.

The staircase alone looked like something from a royal palace.

Crystal chandeliers shimmered overhead while the polished marble beneath their feet reflected the warm golden lighting. Elegant paintings lined the walls, and every corner of the mansion radiated unimaginable wealth.

Isobel walked quietly behind Albert, trying not to appear too stunned despite how overwhelmed she truly felt.

After a short walk along the second-floor hallway, Albert finally stopped in front of a tall ornate wooden door decorated with intricate carvings.

He opened it smoothly.

The moment Isobel stepped inside, she froze.

Her breath caught instantly.

Back at Kristoff’s villa, she had already thought her room there was luxurious. The bed had been soft, the vanity beautiful, and the space larger than anything she had ever owned before.

But compared to this...

That room now felt ordinary.