His Charismatic Wife Knows Her

Diana's Pov

"Can you be my surrogate, sis?"

I froze.

For a moment, I wondered if I had heard Vivienne correctly.

My fingers tightened around the glass in my hand as I slowly lifted my eyes.

Vivienne was sitting across from me, looking almost afraid of my answer.

I glanced around the dining table.

My father, Nathaniel, was there. Regina sat beside him, while Ryan, my stepbrother, had stopped eating.

And beside Vivienne sat the one person I had spent six years trying not to think about.

Lewis Ashford.

My former fiancé.

The man who had left me standing alone at the altar.

My fingers loosened around the glass. I placed it on the table before it slipped from my hand.

"I'm sorry?" I whispered, as though I hadn't heard properly.

There was no way Vivienne could be asking me to be her surrogate.

Vivienne swallowed. "I asked if you could be my surrogate."

The words landed harder the second time.

I stared at her.

A surrogate.

Me?

I looked at Lewis again. He didn't seem uncomfortable. That somehow made it worse.

Six years ago, I had been preparing to marry that man. I had spent months choosing flowers, picking out my wedding dress, and planning the life we would have together.

Then he never showed up.

Two days later, he returned to tell me that he had fallen in love with Vivienne.

My own stepsister.

My maid of honor.

The memory came so suddenly that my chest tightened.

I forced myself to breathe. "You aren't serious, are you?"

"Please, I can't carry a baby." Vivienne's eyes filled with tears. "We've tried for years. Doctors, treatments... everything. Nothing worked."

She lowered her gaze to her lap. "They finally told me that I won't be able to carry a pregnancy."

I looked at her.

I should have felt sorry for her, but all I felt was hurt.

Vivienne was a younger sister I had once been very close to. That was until six years ago, when she had stood beside Lewis, pleading with me to let them be together. She had cried and insisted that she and Lewis loved each other. She had even asked me to be happy for them and give them my blessing.

I still remembered the shock of discovering that the two people I trusted most had been together behind my back for months.

And to think I had chosen Vivienne as my maid of honor.

"I know this is a lot to ask," Vivienne whispered. "I wouldn't have asked if I had another choice."

My gaze shifted to Lewis, as if silently asking whether he had heard what his wife had just said.

He was watching me with a calm expression.

"You've always wanted children," he said. "You used to talk about having a family all the time. You wanted children more than anything."

My heart skipped a beat.

I remembered those conversations. I remembered lying beside him and talking about our future. I remembered telling him I wanted a daughter first. He had laughed and said he wanted a son. We had playfully argued about names.

Those memories had once made me smile.

Now they made me want to disappear.

"I want my own child," I managed to say, keeping my voice steady. "I didn't say I wanted to be a surrogate."

Lewis sighed. "There isn't much difference. The child would be mine."

I frowned deeply.

Lewis gently put down his fork.

"You always wanted to have my child," he said. "This would be your opportunity."

My hands trembled beneath the table. My head spun, and for a moment, I struggled to find my voice.

"We aren't trying to hurt you," Vivienne said, wiping the tears from her eyes. "But you're my sister, and I've always looked up to you. Since I can't carry my own child, you should help me."

"Help you? Why should I do that?" I finally asked. "And why are you back?"

"Diana," my father warned softly.

"No, Dad." I shook my head. "Didn't she swear never to return?"

I would never forget how Vivienne had sworn to stay away if I refused to give them my blessing six years ago. Back then, Vivienne had cried and promised never to come into my sight again.

I had refused to forgive them or bless their relationship.

Lewis and Vivienne still got married two months later. Then they left the country, claiming they wanted to give me time to heal from the heartbreak.

But here they were, sitting at the same dining table as me, asking me to be their surrogate.

"It's been six years already, Diana," Regina said. "You can't expect them never to return just because you refuse to accept reality. Vivienne and Lewis love each other deeply, and they're married. You should move on."

I stared at my stepmother. A bitter smile appeared on my face.

"Move on from what exactly?" I asked, my voice low. My heart squeezed painfully. "From the humiliation of watching myself wear that wedding gown, walk down the aisle, and stand at the altar waiting, when all of you knew he wasn't going to show up?"

My voice faltered.

That was the most painful part of the betrayal.

Why hadn't Lewis called off the wedding? Why had they allowed me to spend so much time preparing for a ceremony they knew would never happen? Why had Vivienne worn her bridesmaid dress and stood beside me at the altar, knowing Lewis would never come?

Wasn't it all done to disgrace me?

And now they were telling me to move on simply because six years had passed.

Yes, it had been six years, but the humiliation still followed me everywhere.

I had once been a top socialite, admired for my beauty and humanitarian work. But after that day, my reputation had taken a terrible hit. I became the abandoned bride everyone whispered about.

People stared whenever I appeared in public. Some pitied me, while others seemed entertained by my misfortune.

I had endured enough humiliation to last a lifetime.

"We're talking about you helping your sister become a mother, Diana," Regina said matter-of-factly. "Stop bringing up the past."

I slowly picked up my napkin and wiped my lips.

I had lost my appetite. Not that I had much of one to begin with. I had only agreed to have breakfast because my father had asked me to join them.

"I'll leave first, Dad." I placed the napkin back on the table and stood up.

"Don't leave, sis." Vivienne hurried out of her chair and grabbed my hand, stopping me. "It's okay if you don't want to forgive me or carry my child."

Vivienne sniffed, her voice trembling. "But don't leave without finishing your food," she added. "It's your favorite meal."

I pulled my hand away. "Don't touch me."

Vivienne staggered backward as though I had shoved her with great force.

"Vivi!" Lewis panicked, rushing to her side and catching her before she could fall.

The worry in his voice made a lump form in my throat.

My fists clenched behind my dress.

"What's wrong with you, Diana?" Lewis barked. "If you don't want to agree to our request, just say so. Why push her?"

I let out a silent breath. Suddenly, I felt exhausted. I had no strength left to defend myself.

"No, Lewis. Sis didn't push me." Vivienne placed a hand on his arm, seemingly trying to calm him. "My body is just weak, and when she shoved me, I couldn't keep my balance...."

Her words trailed off, but their meaning was clear enough.

"Can you stop being difficult, Diana?" Ryan snapped as he rose from his chair. "Siblings are supposed to help each other. Don't forget that Vivienne became weak because of you. She saved your life."

I briefly closed my eyes.

I remembered that day too. The attack. The screaming.

The man rushing toward me with a knife.

Vivienne had stepped in front of me and taken the knife wound to her shoulder. It was a memory I would carry for the rest of my life.

"You're right, and I haven't forgotten that either," I said, giving a small nod. "And for that, I'll pretend you didn't make such a ridiculous request."

"What's ridiculous about it?" Regina slammed her hand against the table angrily. "You're single. Save Vivienne from the shame of being called barren."

My stomach knotted.

The word barren cut through my chest.

My breathing grew shallow. All I wanted was to get out of the house before I broke down in front of them.

I took another step toward the door, but Vivienne moved in front of me.

"What can I do to earn your forgiveness, sis?" she cried. "I miss how close we used to be. I've missed you so much."

"Move out of my way," I shouted.

Everyone flinched.

Vivienne immediately stepped back.

"Enough of this nonsense, Diana!" my father, Nathaniel, said loudly.

I turned to face him. "Then tell them to stay away from me."

I couldn't bear to look at any of them again.

With that, I turned and walked away, my steps quick and unsteady.

Outside, I let out a breath I hadn't realized I had been holding.

If I had known Lewis and Vivienne were back, I would never have come. I pressed a hand against my chest, trying to calm myself. My eyes stung, but I refused to cry.

Not here.

Not after everything they had put me through.

Just then, my phone buzzed.

I pulled it out of my bag and glanced at the screen.

It was a message from my best friend, Lily, reminding me about the blind date I was supposed to attend at eleven that morning.

I stared at the notification for a moment.

After the morning I had just endured, the last thing I wanted was to meet a stranger.

But I had already promised Lily.

And I wasn't about to let the events of that breakfast ruin the rest of my day.

Diana's POV

I arrived at the restaurant at exactly 11:05 a.m.

Five minutes late.

I glanced at my phone as I stepped inside and checked the message Lily had sent earlier.

"Don't you dare run away. You promised me you'd go."

I sighed.

I had almost canceled the date after what happened at home. I still couldn't believe that Lewis and Vivienne had shamelessly asked me to carry their child.

But I had made a promise to Lily. Besides, Lily had gone through too much trouble to arrange the date.

And there was a bet.

I touched the watch on my wrist.

My late mother's watch.

Lily knew how much it meant to me, which was exactly why she had used it to challenge me. If I refused to go on this date, she would get the watch for a month.

I had reluctantly agreed, and now I was beginning to regret it.

I gave the hostess the name of my reservation, and she led me to a table near the window.

The man I was supposed to meet wasn't there yet.

I sat down and ordered water.

Five minutes passed.

Then ten.

I looked toward the entrance.

He still hadn't arrived.

I sighed again and leaned back in my chair. Apparently, I wasn't the only person who had trouble keeping time.

At almost forty-five minutes past eleven, a man in an expensive shirt finally walked into the restaurant. He glanced around, then walked to my table and dropped into the seat without ceremony. He looked at his phone before looking at me.

"Diana, right?" he said. "Daniel. Sorry I'm late. Traffic was a nightmare."

He did not sound sorry at all.

I met his eyes and offered a small, polite smile.

"It's alright," I said softly. "But next time, a message would have been thoughtful. I nearly left."

He raised an eyebrow in amusement. "You're strict. Most women just sit and wait."

His words made me pause.

Seriously?

"I'm not most women," I replied evenly. "And waiting without a word isn't a courtesy. It's inconsiderate. When someone sets aside their day for you, the least you can do is respect their time."

Though I knew he didn't have my number, he had Lily's. He could have simply told her that he would be running late. Lily would have informed me.

He let out a short laugh and signaled the waiter for a drink. "You're already lecturing me? We just met."

"I'm not lecturing," I said, staying calm, though all I wanted was to leave. He didn't seem like the type of man I wanted to have anything to do with. "I'm explaining basic manners. Arriving late is one thing. Arriving late and treating it like nothing is another. An apology should sound like an apology, not an afterthought."

He studied me for a moment, then smirked. "You've got a sharp tongue for someone who's been single this long."

My throat tightened slightly. I didn't need to ask how he knew. Lily must have told him.

"My relationship status has nothing to do with expecting basic respect," I answered. "Whether a person is single or married, they still deserve the courtesy of a proper apology when someone wastes their time."

He leaned back, clearly enjoying himself now.

"You're very sure of yourself. Most women your age are a little more... flexible. Especially when they're the ones who haven't managed to keep a man."

The shift in his tone was small, but I felt it.

And it hurts.

I realized that he knew more about me than I thought. Half of the city knew I had been abandoned on my wedding day.

I kept my expression composed.

"I didn't come here to discuss my past. I came because Lily insisted. If this is the direction the conversation is going, we can end it now."

Daniel's smile turned sharper. "I'm just saying what everyone else is thinking. And from what I heard, there's a reason no man stayed."

I frowned. "What do you mean?"

His smile grew even sharper. "I heard something about you not being able to give a man a child."

His words hit me like cold water.

I froze.

For a second, the restaurant noise disappeared. The soft music, the laughter from the next table, the clink of glasses... all of it faded.

I stared at the man across from me, my mind scrambling to understand how a stranger I had met less than five minutes ago could know the one thing I had tried so hard to bury.

Some months after the betrayal, I was diagnosed with premature ovarian insufficiency. I had kept it hidden, even from Lily. I never tried dating because of it.

"Ho... how did you... know?" I stammered, trying to hide my discomfort. "Who told you?"

"Does it matter?" He gave a dismissive wave. "Honestly, you shouldn't be acting so hard to get. You're thirty, unmarried, and you can't even have children. You should be more realistic about your chances of finding a husband."

I felt a sharp pain in my chest. I wanted to say something. Anything. But my eyes suddenly caught someone watching me.

A few tables away sat Theodore Calloway.

I recognized him immediately. He was one of the most well-known men in the city, someone whose name frequently appeared in business news and social events.

His eyes were fixed on me.

My stomach twisted.

Judging by his expression and the way he had been looking in my direction, he had heard everything Daniel had said.

Shame burned through my heart.

I quickly turned back to Daniel, fighting to keep my composure. "I think this date has gone on long enough."

He shrugged. "Suit yourself."

I picked up my handbag and stood. "And for the record, you aren't even my type. Monkey head."

With that, I turned and walked away.

I kept my head up as I left the restaurant, refusing to let anyone see how deeply his words had hurt me.

But the moment I reached my car, I crumbled.

I unlocked the door and got inside. I hadn't even closed it before the tears began to fall.

I covered my face with both hands and broke down.

It was too much.

I was tired of being judged for something I couldn't control. Tired of the life I lived now.

I knew very well that my life had never been the same since six years ago.

A soft tap against the open car window made me lift my head.

I looked up.

Theodore Calloway was standing beside my car.

"Are you all right?" he asked.

Theodore's POV

"Are you all right?"

The question left my mouth before I could think about it.

The woman inside the car slowly lowered her hands from her face and looked at me.

Her eyes were red from crying. Tears still clung to her cheeks, and for a moment, she looked almost embarrassed to have been caught in such a vulnerable state.

I had seen what happened inside the restaurant.

I hadn't meant to listen.

I had been sitting at my table, waiting for someone I didn't even want to meet, when the man's voice caught my attention. At first, I ignored it. But the more I heard, the harder it became to look away.

The things he said to her were cruel.

And she had taken them without causing a scene.

Until now.

She stared at me for a few seconds before wiping her cheeks with the back of her hand. "I don't need your pity."

I frowned slightly. "I wasn't offering pity."

She gave a bitter laugh. "Then what are you offering?"

I didn't answer immediately. She looked away, clearly embarrassed by the tears she had shed in front of me.

"If you feel sorry for me," she continued, "then solve the problem."

I raised an eyebrow. "What problem?"

She turned back to me, and there was something almost daring in her eyes now. "Marriage."

I stared at her.

She seemed to realize how ridiculous her words sounded, but instead of taking them back, she continued. "If you really feel sorry for me, marry me. Then you can make everyone who humiliated me watch."

For the first time since today, I was genuinely speechless. This woman had gone from crying in her car to proposing marriage to a man she barely knew.

And she wasn't finished.

"But you should know something first," she added. "I can't have children." Her voice became quieter. "I can't give you a child, so if that's a problem for you, forget everything I just said."

I continued staring at her.

She mistook my silence for an answer.

"You see?" she said, her voice turning bitter. "You can't solve it either. So you should just leave me alone."

She reached for the handkerchief I had given her earlier and wiped her cheeks with it. Then she blew her nose into it.

I couldn't help it.

A chuckle escaped me.

Her eyes narrowed immediately. "What?"

I shook my head, trying to suppress another smile. "You're angry."

"Of course I'm angry."

"And you're using my handkerchief."

She looked down at the handkerchief in her hand as if she had forgotten it was there. Her expression became even more irritated. "You gave it to me."

I nodded, "I did."

"So don't complain."

"I wasn't complaining."

She glared at me. For someone who had been crying moments ago, she certainly had enough strength left to fight.

I studied her quietly.

Diana Quinn.

I had heard her name before. Everyone in our circle had. The woman who had been abandoned at the altar six years ago. The woman people whispered about. But I had never cared enough to know the details.

Until today.

Now I understood something.

She wasn't weak.

She was hurt.

There was a difference.

I looked at her for a long moment before finally speaking. "I don't think getting married is a bad idea."

Her expression changed. "What?"

"We should get married."

She blinked.

I could see the confusion spreading across her face.

She had expected me to laugh at her, or perhaps walk away. Instead, I was standing there seriously considering the very thing she had thrown at me in anger.

"I mean it," I said.

She stared at me as though she was trying to figure out whether I had lost my mind. "You don't even know me."

"I know enough."

"No, you don't."

"Maybe not." I kept my voice calm. "But I know you're not looking for someone to rescue you. You were angry because you thought I was looking at you with pity."

Her lips parted slightly, but she said nothing.

I continued. "And I also know you can't have children. But that doesn't bother me."

Her expression tightened. She looked genuinely stunned.

I had no reason to lie. I couldn't have children either.

It was one of the reasons my family had been so desperate to arrange dates for me. They knew about my condition and had decided that finding a suitable wife was the solution.

I had never agreed with them. Marriage had never interested me enough to fight for it.

Until now.

"I can't have children either," I told her.

Her eyes widened.

For several seconds, neither of us spoke.

The surprise on her face was impossible to miss. She blinked, almost as though she had misunderstood me.

I didn't explain further. She wiped the remaining tears from her cheeks and looked away. "This is ridiculous."

She reached for the car door.

I understood that she wanted the conversation to end.

She pulled the door toward herself, but I caught it before she could close it.

She looked at my hand, then at me.

"I meant what I said," I told her. "If you're willing to marry me, then we should get married."

Her eyes searched mine. "You're serious?"

"Yes." I paused. "I was looking for a wife anyway."

She said nothing.

Whatever she had been expecting from this day, I was certain it wasn't this.

She pushed against the door again.

I released it.

The door slammed shut. A second later, I heard the engine start.

Diana didn't look at me again. She drove away.

I remained standing beside the parking space, watching her car disappear into the distance.

I had no idea why I had said yes. Perhaps it was because I had seen the humiliation in her eyes and recognized something familiar in it.

Perhaps it was because, for once, someone had spoken to me without knowing who I was or what my family expected from me.

Or perhaps I was simply tired.

Tired of being pushed toward women I had no interest in. Tired of hearing that I needed a wife. Tired of having my private life treated like a family project.

My phone vibrated in my pocket. I glanced at the screen.

Three missed calls from my mother.

I sighed.

Of course.

She was probably wondering whether I had met the woman she had arranged for me.

I slipped the phone back into my pocket.

The truth was, I had no intention of coming here today.

My family had insisted.

They had found another woman they considered suitable and decided that I needed to meet her. They had made it clear that refusing would only lead to another round of arguments.

So I had come.

I had expected the usual.

A woman trying too hard to impress me. Questions about my wealth. Questions about my family.

A little flirting.

And eventually, the same expectation that I should chase after her.

I had no patience for any of it.

I glanced at my watch. She was already more than thirty minutes late. I had given her enough time.

Just as I turned to leave, I heard hurried footsteps behind me.

"Mr. Calloway?"

I stopped.

A woman approached, slightly out of breath. She was dressed elegantly, carrying a small handbag. Her expression was apologetic.

"I'm so sorry I'm late. There was traffic, and then my driver-"

I looked at her without saying anything.

She stopped speaking. Perhaps she finally noticed my expression.

"I know I should have called," she said quickly. "But I thought you wouldn't mind waiting a little."

Of course.

I had been right. She was exactly the type of woman I expected. The type who believed her beauty gave her permission to waste a man's time.

The type who expected men to chase after her simply because she had finally decided to show up.

I looked at her for another second.

Then I spoke. "Don't ever appear in front of me again."

Her face fell. "Mr. Calloway, I-"

I walked past her. I didn't owe her an explanation. I got into my car, closed the door, and started the engine.

As I drove away from the restaurant, my mind returned to the woman who had just driven off.

Diana Quinn.

She had asked me to marry her because she was hurt.

I had agreed because, for reasons I didn't fully understand yet, the idea didn't seem as absurd as it should have.

Perhaps the woman I had been searching for had just walked into my life crying.

And perhaps, for the first time, I wasn't looking for a reason to walk away.