Chapter 4My Wife Surrogated For Her Ex

It was past midnight when I finally returned to the apartment, utterly exhausted in body and spirit.

Catherine wasn't home.

I dialed her number. The phone rang for a long time before someone finally picked up.

Before I could say a word, Dean's voice drifted through the speaker, lazy and intimate. "She's already asleep. Whatever it is, talk to her tomorrow."

Then, the line went dead.

I gave a faint, resigned smile. I picked up the printed divorce papers from my briefcase, signed my name at the bottom, and left them sitting dead-center on the dining table.

To my surprise, Catherine didn't come home for the next week.

I didn't bother reaching out. Instead, I sank into a simple, predictable routine: moving between my office and the quiet apartment.

Oddly enough, in her absence, I found a sense of peace I hadn't felt in years.

I could come home, throw my jacket on the rack, and collapse onto the couch without being lectured. I didn't have to spend hours searching through complicated organic recipes to prepare her three meals a day plus midnight snacks. I no longer had to mark calendar dates with a red pen, desperately tracking her ovulation cycles just to beg for her affection in hopes of becoming a father.

Two weeks later, Catherine returned.

Dean was supporting her by the elbow as she walked through the front door. Her face was pale, her skin sallow.

As Dean helped her down onto the sofa, his phone rang. When he looked at the screen, a soft, fond smile spread across his face—the undeniable look of a man who was falling in love with someone new.

"Babe, I've got something I need to take care of," Dean said, glancing down at Catherine. "Rest up, okay?"

Catherine nodded obediently, her tone docile. "Okay. Be safe."

Watching the unspoken intimacy linger between them, I almost wanted to laugh out loud.

Once Dean left, Catherine's eyes finally landed on me. Her demeanor shifted instantly back to her usual cold superiority.

"I haven't eaten all day," she declared in a commanding tone. "Go make me some afternoon tea and pastries."

Hearing her speak to me like a servant, I felt a faint smirk touch my lips. "I have work back at the studio. I'm leaving."

"PFT!"

Catherine snatched a throw pillow from the couch and slammed it against my chest. "I'm calling my dad in a minute! You don't need to go to work anymore. For the next ten months, your only job is to stay home and take care of me. I'll have my dad keep paying your salary."

Ten months?

My stomach churned. My eyes moved slowly down to her stomach.

Catherine rested both hands gently over her abdomen, a bright, triumphant smile blooming on her pale face. "The embryo transfer was a success."

The last lingering spark of hope inside me died, turning to cold ash.

I picked up the signed divorce agreement from the sideboard and dropped it onto the glass coffee table in front of her.

"Let's make this clean and end it here."

Catherine's face transformed instantly into a mask of rage. "Connor! Without my father backing you, you'll go right back to being the penniless nobody you were when I met you!"

Her arrogant, condescending posture only reaffirmed that I was making the right choice.

Sheltered in her bubble of wealth, she had convincing herself that my success was entirely a gift from her family. She had no idea that the studio's major clients and successful projects were the result of my own blood, sweat, and late-night hustling.

In fact, over sixty percent of her father's firm's revenue had come from contracts I brought in. If I walked away with my team, her father's business would be severely crippled.

"Just sign it," I said quietly. "I'm giving you and Dean my blessing. That way, when the baby is born, it won't have to carry the stigma of an affair."

Catherine stood up, stepped closer to me, and suddenly wrapped her arms around my torso. "Honey, please understand. Once I give birth, Dean will take the baby away forever. After that... after that, I'll give you a baby of our own, okay?"

I reached down to shove her off me when her phone began to ring.

It was a custom ringtone—a bright, upbeat melody she had set exclusively for Dean. A bitter smirk curled on my lips.

She hit answer. Within seconds, the color drained from her face.

"I... I'll be right there!" she gasped.

Hanging up, she grabbed my arm, her fingers digging in frantically. "Drive me to the hospital! Dean was in a car accident! I'm too panicked to drive... please!"

I didn't refuse. Until the divorce papers were officially processed by the state, she was still legally my wife. If she got into a wreck driving in a panic, it would only cause me more legal headaches.

All the way to the hospital, Catherine kept screaming at me to go faster, even reaching over twice to grab the steering wheel.

Sweat broke out on my back from her erratic, dangerous outbursts.

"If anything happens to Dean," she spat out, her eyes bloodshot as she glared at me, "I will never forgive you!"

I looked at her cold, hysterical face, turned my head back to the road, and slammed my foot all the way down on the gas pedal.