Chapter 2My Wife Surrogated For Her Ex

"You're unbelievable, Connor!" she hissed, her voice trembling with indignation. "What's wrong with me taking care of a friend? I'm telling you, if you keep making scenes like this, I'll divorce you!"

I pressed the tip of my tongue against the inside of my bruised cheek where her ring had clipped me.

Without saying a word, I pulled out my phone and dialed Sadie, my childhood friend who had grown up in the same small town as me.

"Hey, Sadie," I said into the receiver, keeping my voice smooth and deliberate. "Let's grab breakfast tomorrow morning. That little diner we used to go to."

Ignoring Catherine's pale, furious face, I turned on my heel and walked out of the room.

I stood on the guest room balcony in the frigid night air and lit a cigarette. I took a deep pull, letting the smoke burn down into my lungs.

Memories of the first time I met Catherine drifted into my mind.

Back then, I was a young, ambitious engineer, practically living at the office to pull off a massive project. I worked myself to the bone, routinely skipping meals. Catherine was the daughter of the company's owner, Mr. Lancaster. One afternoon, when my stomach ulcers flared up so badly I collapsed on the office floor, she was the one who found me.

She took me to the ER. She stayed by my bedside, wiping my forehead, bringing me broth. I fell hard for her gentle care. Once the project wrapped up successfully, I began pursuing her with everything I had.

It took six months for her to agree to be my girlfriend. Our path to marriage felt natural, quiet, and warm.

Or so I thought—until Dean returned from abroad.

Suddenly, he was calling her at all hours, inviting her out for drinks and dinners. At first, I voiced my discomfort, but she would pout, wrap her arms around my neck, and accuse me of being overly possessive.

Perhaps it was my own lenient foolishness that had reignited their spark.

I didn't sleep a wink that night. From across the hall, I could hear the faint, soft coos of my wife whispering comfort to Dean whenever he stirred.

When morning came, I walked out of the guest room with heavy, bruised-looking dark circles under my eyes.

I saw Catherine busy in the kitchen, standing over the stove.

A faint flick of hope stirred in my chest. "Maybe she's making something for me to make up for last night."

I stepped forward, about to reach around her waist out of sheer muscle memory, when my eyes caught the ingredients sitting on the counter: fresh crab meat, shrimp, and scallops.

"I'm severely allergic to shellfish," I said, my voice dropping an octave.

Catherine glanced back at me, her lip curling in a slight sneer. "This is seafood chowder for Dean. There's none for you."

My hands curled into tight fists at my sides.

Just then, Dean strolled out of the master bathroom. A plush towel was wrapped around his waist, and an unbuttoned silk shirt hung loosely off his broad shoulders, showing off his sculpted chest.

Catherine's face flushed with a soft, smitten pink. "Put some proper clothes on," she scolded gently, though her eyes lingered. "You'll catch a cold."

Dean walked right past me, stopping at the kitchen island. "Connor, I'm going to be relying on your hospitality for the next few days."

I froze. "What?"

Catherine walked over to Dean, naturally reaching up to fasten the buttons of his shirt one by one. "Dean hasn't been feeling well lately. I've decided to let him stay here for a while so I can help nurse him back to health. He'll move out once he's recovered."

I leaned heavily against the dining table, staring at her. "And what if I say no?"

Catherine let out a sharp sigh. "This is my house, Connor. If I want to invite a friend to stay, you don't have a veto. If you feel uncomfortable, you're welcome to stay at your office until Dean leaves."

Without waiting for my reply, she dished out a steaming bowl of seafood chowder and set it down in front of Dean.

Dean took a spoon, tasted it, and gave her a enthusiastic thumbs-up. "Babe, you're amazing. By the way, did you talk to him about what we discussed last night?"

Catherine glanced at me, her tone cold and indifferent. "It's my body. He doesn't get to control what I do with it."

Dean nodded, turning his head to look at me with a patronizing expression. "Don't worry, Connor. I'll arrange everything. Once Catherine gives birth to the baby, I'll take the child and leave immediately. We won't disturb your lives."

I stared at them, completely stunned. "What on earth are you talking about?"

Catherine met my gaze, completely unbothered. "Dean's girlfriend died in a car accident a year ago. Before she passed, they frozen an embryo together. I'm going to have that embryo implanted in my uterus and carry their baby to term for him."

The words hit me like a thunderbolt, shattering the room into sharp, agonizing fragments.