The Surrogate He Discarded

”I’ve done enough talking about myself.” Richard Learson leaned back in his chair, a teasing smile tugging at his lips. ”What about you? Where are you working these days? Don’t tell me you’ve already landed a job at one of the country’s top companies.”

Isobel smiled—a warm, genuine smile that lit up her entire face.

”Well...” she said, unable to hide the pride in her voice. ”I guess you could say I’ve made it. I supervise the R&D team at Aioryx.”

Richard’s smile froze.

Aioryx.

The undisputed king of the country’s tech industry especially on the field of artificial intelligence.

Centrix, the company he was tasked to lead, despite its reputation, trailed far behind at fiftieth place.

One day, Richard vowed, that ranking would change.

He would be the one to lead Centrix to the top—and dethrone Aioryx, the very company he intended to bring down.

For a fleeting moment, conflicting thoughts flashed through his mind. But when he looked back at Isobel and saw the excitement sparkling in her eyes, every trace of tension melted away.

A smile returned to his face.

”That’s amazing.” He chuckled. ”Then our next dinner is definitely your treat.”

She laughed. ”Deal.”

More than two hours passed before Richard and Isobel finally stepped out of the restaurant.

They wandered the streets at an easy pace, talking about childhood memories, old friends, and the years they had spent apart. As the conversation drifted to the hardships they had endured during the time at the orphanage, Isobel gradually lowered her guard.

The carefully built walls around her heart crumbled one story at a time.

Richard listened quietly, his gaze growing softer with every word.

She had no idea that every detail she shared only deepened the ache in his chest.

He had known her almost her entire life.

She had been barely a month old when he found her.

It had been a chilly morning. Ten-year-old Richard had wandered behind the orphanage, searching for mangoes from the old Indian mango tree that stood a short distance away.

Just as he climbed the trunk, a faint cry drifted through the rustling leaves.

He stopped.

The cry came again.

Curious, he jumped from the low hanging branch and followed the sound until he spotted a small bamboo basket tucked beneath the shade of a bush.

Inside lay a tiny baby wrapped snugly in a faded white swaddling cloth. Her cheeks were stained with tears.

When Richard leaned over the basket, a pair of bright, glistening eyes met his.

For a heartbeat, they simply stared at each other.

Then he gently lifted her into his arms.

Despite being only ten years old, he already knew how to hold a baby. Staying in the orphanage for the past two years meant helping care for younger children almost every day.

The little girl blinked at him.

Then...she smiled.

It was the purest and most beautiful smile he had ever seen.

To young Richard, it was as if a cherub had fallen from heaven and landed gently in his arms.

He knew, even then, that he would never forget that smile.

Carefully cradling the infant against his chest, he hurried back to the orphanage.

”Mama Rena!” he called.

The middle-aged woman, who served as the assistant to the orphanage director, hurried over.

Her eyes widened the moment she saw the baby.

”Oh, my...” she whispered, gently brushing the infant’s tiny cheek. ”Such a beautiful child. How could anyone abandon her?”

The words lingered in the air before Mama Rena fell silent.

A shadow passed over her face. Then she let out a quiet sigh.

”But who am I to judge?” she murmured. ”No parent gives up a child without a reason.”

Her gaze drifted toward the orphanage where the laughter of children echoed faintly through the open windows.

Every child under that roof carried a tragic story, others marked by loss. Some had been orphaned by illness or accidents. Others had been left behind because poverty, fear, or desperate circumstances had stolen every other choice from their parents.

It wasn’t always a lack of love that brought a child to an orphanage.

Sometimes...no matter how deep the love is, it simply wasn’t enough to overcome fate.

”Mama Rena,” Richard said, noticing an envelope tucked beneath the blanket. ”There’s a letter at the bottom of the basket.”

He handed it to her.

Mama Rena carefully unfolded the letter.

”It says her name is Isobel Lancey,” she read softly. ”Her birthday is the eight of August.”

A small golden locket slipped from the envelope and landed in her palm.

She turned it over thoughtfully before letting out a quiet sigh.

”At least her mother had the presence of mind to leave her with a name... and something to remember her by.”

The tiny locket gleamed under the morning sun, the only clue to the life Isobel had left behind.

...

From the day he found Isobel beneath the bush near the old Indian mango tree, Richard’s world quietly began to revolve around her.

He worked harder than any other child in the orphanage, finishing his chores as quickly as he could so he could spend the rest of his free time in the nursery.

The nursery soon became his favorite place.

Whenever it was his turn to look after baby Isobel, he secretly celebrated. It meant an entire afternoon of carrying her around the nursery, making funny faces until she giggled, or humming lullabies until she drifted to sleep in his arms.

Her laughter made every chore worthwhile.

Whenever philanthropists visited the orphanage, Richard volunteered to wash their cars. He scrubbed every window until it sparkled and polished every wheels rims until they shone like a mirror.

The better the job, the bigger the tips.

Every coin he earned went into a tin coin bank hidden beneath his bed.

It was not for himself. It was for Isobel.

Whenever the coin bank became full enough, Richard would sneak into the town center and return with a tiny dress, a colorful rattle, or a small stuffed toy.

None of them cost much.

But to Richard, each gift was priceless because every coin had been earned through hours of hard work, and every item was chosen with one person in mind.

Isobel.

For a while, life at the orphanage settled into a peaceful routine.

Until one afternoon...

”What’s going on here?”

A stern voice rang through the boys’ dormitory.

The room fell silent.

A woman in her mid-fifties strode inside, her sharp gaze sweeping across the frightened children. It was the orphanage director.

Before anyone else could speak, a chubby boy nearly half a foot taller than Richard rushed to her side.

His eyes were red with anger.

”Mom!” he cried, pointing an accusing finger at Richard. ”It was him! He punched me!”

Every pair of eyes turned toward Richard.

He stood motionless, his fists still clenched at his sides.