The Surrogate Wife's Revenge Ends In Checkmate

At the wedding, right in the middle of the ring exchange, the massive screen in the ballroom flickered to life at once.

A high-definition video suddenly began to play. Lindsay Burton was bound to a chair, her outfit rumpled, one side of her face visibly bruised, tears pooling in her eyes in sheer desperation.

The whispers among the guests quickly swelled into audible chatter.

Judgmental glances came at her from all sides, sharp and merciless.

"Those thugs probably took their turns..."

"How can this ceremony possibly continue after this?"

Not a single person believed the thugs hadn't actually touched her.

Mockery, contempt, and public disgrace rained down on her all at once.

A dizzying sensation descended over Lindsay. Her balance faltered, and she began to fall backward.

Before she could hit the floor, a firm arm caught her, accompanied by a scent she knew all too well.

When she raised her eyes, she found herself staring into the impassive eyes of her soon-to-be husband, Tyler Hardy.

He paid no attention to the others. Without a word, he helped her regain her footing.

Turning, he drew a gun from inside his suit and pointed it upward.

The crystal chandelier trembled from the impact, shards scattering in all directions.

The entire ballroom fell into stunned silence.

Afterward, he turned back to Lindsay and extended his hand, the ring poised between his fingers.

"Marry me," he said.

Lindsay's tears spilled over instantly. Shaking, she stretched out her hand and blurted, "Yes."

Over the following three years, he treated her with unwavering gentleness.

He was aware that the incident at their wedding had left her deeply traumatized and that the emotional damage had affected her ability to become pregnant.

He never placed any pressure on her. Instead, he would simply say, "You matter most."

Still, they remained childless and she wanted more and more to bear his children as time went by.

On that particular day, Lindsay finally reached a decision. She was ready to pursue IVF.

When she went to the hotel to see Tyler and share the news, she overheard his close friend, Gerald Walsh, teasing him from inside a room with the door slightly ajar.

"Tyler, you're unbelievable. When that video came up at the wedding, everyone assumed you'd call it off. Instead, you went through with the marriage and acted so loving that Lindsay completely believed you."

Tyler's light chuckle wafted out through the crack in the door. "She did save my life once. I owed her something at least."

"But marrying her wasn't necessary. Not when she's damaged goods."

"If I married Lindsay first, it'd make things easier for Jenna when she joins the family later. My mom won't give her a hard time." Tyler spoke as casually as if he were discussing the weather. "Besides, Jenna can't have kids. Lindsay's uterus is ideal for carrying one for her. If Lindsay becomes our surrogate, that'll be the most useful thing she ever does."

A chorus of approving laughter followed, echoing from the room.

The sound hit Lindsay like a thunderclap.

"Tyler, that plan was really brilliant. Showing that video in front of everyone at the wedding? After that, your mom was bound to favor Jenna."

Swirling the liquor in his glass, Tyler gave a faint, cold smile and said, "Everyone thinks she's violated, and I'm the only one willing to accept her. That kind of gratitude tends to outlast love."

He took a sip, and then continued, "Once the IVF succeeds and she delivers the baby, she'll have served her purpose."

Lindsay stood outside the private room, completely dumbstruck.

She clenched her fists so tightly that her nails, pressed into her palms, nearly drew blood. Yet she felt nothing at all.

So all of Tyler's affection over the years had been nothing more than an elaborate performance?

And he had been the one behind the video that made everyone look down on her?

A chilling possibility crossed her mind.

Was he responsible for the kidnapping as well?

Inside, the jokes and laughter continued.

"That's ruthless, man. Switching her prenatal vitamins with birth control so she wouldn't get pregnant? Once she thought she couldn't conceive, IVF became her only option. If she ever finds out those embryos belong to you and Jenna, she'll probably break down instantly."

"Whether she breaks down or not is irrelevant to me," Tyler said coldly, interrupting Gerald. "If she gets to carry a child for Jenna, she should consider it an honor."

He brought his glass down hard against the table and swept his eyes across the room, his eyes sharp enough to cut.

"I need Lindsay to stay compliant and carry these twins to full term." He paused deliberately, every word dripping with menace. "If even a single word of this leaves this room tonight..."

Gerald smirked. "Take it easy, Tyler. She's just an idiot. We show her the bare minimum of respect, pretend she's important, and she believes it every time. She probably still thinks that video turning up at your wedding was some kind of accident."

Someone nearby let out a snicker. "Gerald, why didn't you choose me back then? I wouldn't have minded having a go at her."

Before he could finish speaking, a knife sliced through the air past his groin and lodged itself into the floor.

The man's face turned pale white with horror.

"Are you trying to get yourself killed?" Tyler asked, his voice so calm it was far more terrifying than if he had shouted. "Lindsay is still legally my wife. Mention something like that again, and I'll ruin you."

Gerald forced out a laugh. "Tyler, we were only joking because we assumed you were already tired of her... But with the way you treat her, aren't you afraid she'll walk away if she ever learns the truth?"

Tyler gave a derisive chuckle. "Please. She's completely obsessed with me. Even if she finds out, what difference does it make? A few sweet words, and she'll come running back like a loyal dog."

Standing by the doorway, Lindsay felt lightheaded.

The metallic scent of blood from that stormy night three years earlier seemed to flood back into her senses.

Back then, Tyler had collapsed against her, drenched in blood.

She had dragged him out with the last of her strength, only to fall into the hands of those monsters herself.

For three days and two nights, they tortured her until she was almost unrecognizable.

When she was finally found, Tyler had clutched her hand, his eyes rimmed red, and said earnestly, "Lindsay, I'll protect you for the rest of your life. I won't ever fail you. Not in this lifetime."

She had trusted him.

She had staked whatever remained of her life on that vow.

Later, he brought Jenna Oliver to meet her, introducing her as his orphaned cousin, someone with no one else to depend on, and asked Lindsay to look after her for him.

Lindsay felt sorry for her. She genuinely treated Jenna as though she were her own younger sister.

How absurd!

With her own hands, she had cleared the path-a path carved with her own suffering so Jenna could step into her place beside Tyler as his wife.

And what did that make her to Tyler?

Nothing more than a means to an end, a womb for the woman he truly loved.

And she was even expected to feel thankful for the role.

Each breath she took felt labored and painful, as though something inside her was tearing her apart.

Tyler planned to make her carry a child for his mistress?

He could keep wishing.

For everything they had put her through, she would make them repay it a hundred times over.

Forcing her stiff, unresponsive legs to move, she stepped back once, and then again.

But the moment she moved, the old motion-sensor light above crackled with a harsh burst of static.

It wasn't loud, but in the stillness of the hallway, it sounded deafening.

The laughter inside the private room stopped immediately.

Tyler's cold voice boomed through the door. "What was that outside?"

Lindsay's body moved before she could think.

She turned and ran toward the stairwell.

Behind her, she heard the private room door being yanked open.

She lunged forward with all her strength.

Just as her fingers were about to grasp the stairwell door handle, the entire hallway-no, the entire hotel-plunged into darkness.

Every light went out at once.

At the same instant, a hand appeared from the dark and sealed itself over her mouth and nose.

Another arm wrapped tightly around her waist like iron and pulled her back against a chest that was solid and burning with heat.

Her breath was cut off in her throat.

A sharp scent of cedar, laced with the lingering trace of whisky, filled her senses completely.

Then a low, unfamiliar male voice sounded near her ear.

"Don't move. If you want to stay alive, do exactly as I say."

Lindsay was yanked into a shadowy room, turned around, and thrown hard against the door.

"Don't move..." The man's voice came out low and gravelly, his breath heavy and warm against her ear. Each word was heavy with dangerous desire, as though some substance had stripped away his restraint.

Panic gripped her at once. Her body trembled as she fought to break free.

Then, suddenly, his feverish lips slammed against hers.

She clamped her mouth shut, but the harsh sting of alcohol seeped in, mixed with the faint, woody scent of cedar clinging to his skin.

He forced her lips apart without hesitation, his tongue pushing inside with a restless urgency, as though he meant to take everything from her in one breath.

In the struggle, cloth ripped.

A chilling draft brushed her shoulder.

The delicate strap of her dress had been torn away with sheer force. Part of the fabric slid down, exposing her skin as a scorching hand pressed firmly against it.

A strangled sound lodged in Lindsay's throat as her body shook violently.

Tears welled up in her eyes without warning.

She had only just uncovered the truth of a betrayal so devastating it had nearly broken her. Was she truly going to be cornered here in the dark and assaulted by some intoxicated stranger?

"Help me... I'll give you anything you want..." His lips scorched the side of her neck as his hand moved lower along her shaking spine.

"Get away from me!"

All the terror and fury she had buried erupted in an instant. She twisted her head sharply and sank her teeth into his wrist.

The man let out a pained grunt, his hold faltering.

This was her opportunity.

Lindsay drove her knee upward with every bit of strength she had.

The man let out another muffled groan as he stumbled back, crashing into the glass coffee table with a loud thud.

The table broke apart with a sharp, splintering crack.

Lindsay pulled away and flattened herself against the cold wall, her pulse hammering so violently it felt like it might rupture.

Her hands shaking, she reached for her phone and switched on the flashlight.

The light revealed the man before her. His expensive suit was rumpled, and he steadied himself with one hand on the shattered table's edge. Sweat dampened his hair, loose strands falling across his forehead.

Even in this state, his handsome face and the commanding aura he carried were impossible to miss.

He didn't resemble the pampered rich men she usually saw around Tyler.

That face...

Her breath hitched. An image from a business magazine surfaced in her mind.

Could it actually be him?

Ashton Clarke, the self-made force who had climbed to the top in just a few years, was known for his ruthless business tactics.

This was the man responsible for derailing several of Tyler's major projects.

Why was he at a hotel Tyler often visited? And why like this?

The glare from her phone seemed to bother him. Ashton's eyes slowly opened.

"Drugged... Help me..." he groaned weakly, the veins at his temples standing out.

Drugged?

Someone had slipped him something? Here, in a hotel partly owned by Tyler?

A troubling realization hit Lindsay's mind.

Ashton was Tyler's most formidable rival. If he ended up entangled here with her, Tyler's wife, in a scandal that couldn't be neatly explained... how would Tyler spin it?

He would ruin Ashton. And in the process, he might discard her too.

No.

She couldn't allow Ashton to fall into Tyler's control.

The man standing in front of her might be an adversary, but he could also become the one advantage she had against Tyler.

"Ashton Clarke?" Lindsay tried saying the name aloud, a slight tremor betraying her unease.

The man leaning on the coffee table reacted immediately, his head snapping up.

Through the haze of pain and whatever substance had been forced into his system, a sharp, predatory gleam flickered in his eyes and locked onto her.

"Who are you?" he asked, his voice low and tight, each word laced with guarded hostility. "Don't make a scene. Don't... call anyone."

So her guess had been correct.

In the state he was in, there was no chance he would want to be found like this.

Lindsay clasped her phone more firmly, the cold metal biting into her skin.

At that moment, the screen brightened with a message from Tyler.

"Honey, where are you? The driver said you already came upstairs. Are you feeling unwell again? Send me your location, and I'll come get you."

She stared at the message, a wave of disgust rising at the false concern. Then she typed out a quick reply.

"I'm fine, honey. I just felt a bit lightheaded and sat down in one of the hotel lounges for a while. I'm better now. I'll be there shortly; don't worry."

Once she sent it, she looked back at Ashton, meeting his watchful stare.

"Mr. Clarke," she said, forcing steadiness into her tone, "I'd like to propose a deal. One worth billions."

Ashton seemed to hold his breath. "What kind of deal?"

His eyes swept over her face, cold and probing, filled with distrust.

A strange woman appearing out of nowhere and addressing him by name, from any reasonable perspective, could only look suspicious.

"Help me take someone down."

"Who?"

"Tyler Hardy," Lindsay replied, enunciating each syllable with venom. "I want him destroyed. I want him left with nothing. In exchange, I'll offer you a business opportunity worth billions and ensure he never recovers from the fall."

The air between them went taut.

"You showed up out of nowhere," Ashton muttered through clenched teeth, "and you expect me to just believe you and talk strategy with you about bringing down Tyler Hardy?"

His eyes dipped, catching on her slipped shoulder strap before settling briefly on her bruised lips.

"Have you lost your mind," he rasped, swallowing, "or do you think I'm the kind of fool who'd be swayed by a pretty face... especially under these circumstances?"

"In your current state, Mr. Clarke," Lindsay replied as she stepped closer, narrowing the distance between them, "are you even capable of deciding whether I'm truly offering an alliance... or merely setting you up?"

His body stiffened, yet he didn't step back.

She lowered her voice, letting her breath brush against his overheated skin. "You were drugged on Tyler's territory. He's your biggest competitor. If this becomes a scandal and falls into his hands... what do you think that means for you?"

Ashton's eyes dilated with realization, his breathing growing heavier.

A hollow, humorless laugh escaped Lindsay. "And me? I'm nothing more than a resource he's planning to use up and discard. Our interests align. So, Mr. Clarke, are you in, or not?"

His throat bobbed, and he asked in a rough voice, "Why should I believe... that you being here isn't also part of Tyler's plan to set me up?"

Lindsay remained silent for a moment. Then she slowly raised her hand and touched the heated skin at the side of his neck.

Ashton flinched but didn't pull away.

"Because right now," she said quietly, her fingers slipping beneath the front of his stiff collar, "only I can help you."

Ashton lunged forward, seizing Lindsay's wrist with such force that it hurt.

A dark struggle flared in his eyes, desire clashing violently with restraint.

"Do you even realize," he muttered, his breath coming hot against her mouth, "what you're actually saying?"

"I do." Lindsay didn't look away. With her free hand, she reached over and rested it on his knotted fist, her fingers slipping into his hot palm and easing between his rigid ones, prying them apart one at a time. "And I know this as well... if you let tonight pass, you're not getting another opportunity like this."

His breath faltered entirely.

Right then, a voice spoke clearly from the hallway outside. "Someone just said they spotted her somewhere around here..."

It was Tyler's men.

They were actually searching for her.

Lindsay's heart lurched painfully upward. She turned the flashlight off immediately and went completely still.

Ashton picked up on the danger just as quickly.

Footsteps moved down the hall, growing louder, until they stopped directly outside the room where they were hiding.

In the heavy silence, the doorknob twitched.

"This one... the door looks like it's not fully closed," someone murmured from the other side.

A sheen of cold sweat spread across Lindsay's back.

If that door opened, they would be seen by Tyler's men.

With Ashton in his current state and her own appearance in disarray, things would be catastrophic.

The instant the lock began to give, Lindsay didn't pause to think. She caught Ashton's fever-warm arm and dragged him toward the bed with everything she had.

Unprepared, his solid weight tilted with the force of her pull.

She dropped backward onto the mattress, and Ashton followed, his body heat slamming down over her in a rush.

There was no room for hesitation. Lindsay wrapped both arms around his neck and hauled him down with her. Then she tipped her chin up and pressed her mouth against his.

At the same time, she released a soft, drawn-out moan, carefully breathy and unmistakably suggestive in the silence.

The movement outside stopped at once.

A second later came muted snickers.

"They're busy in there. Damn. Didn't even bother locking up."

"Let's go. No need to interrupt."

Footsteps resumed, gradually retreating down the corridor.

Lindsay exhaled shakily in relief and began to pull back.

But Ashton was faster. In an instant, he took over.

His heated hand slid behind her head as he kissed her again, harder and deeper, with a force that seemed almost brutal.

Lindsay stiffened. It felt like every drop of blood surged to her face before going cold a heartbeat later.

Ashton pressed her into the mattress, holding her there so completely she couldn't move. One hand captured both her wrists and pinned them above her head without effort.

His mouth moved against hers with rough urgency, all heat and appetite, as though he meant to devour her.

Every broken sound she tried to make was suppressed by his loud kissing.

His hand slipped beneath the torn edge of her neckline again, and the moment his fingers brushed bare skin, Lindsay trembled.

In the darkness, his eyes burned with startling intensity.

"I'll take the deal."

The words had barely left him before he ripped what remained of her dress apart and lowered himself over her.

A brief rush of cold air touched her exposed skin before being smothered beneath the heavy warmth of his body.

His hand closed over her breast, his grip tight enough to leave marks.

Lindsay bore the full press of his weight and heat, her fingers digging into the hard planes of his back.

In the frantic friction of entwined limbs and urgent contact, something broke loose from her lower body-pain, yes, but something beyond that too.

All she could hear by her ear was Ashton's rough, searing breathing, tangled with the sounds she fought to keep contained.

The dull slap of skin against skin, the whisper of moving fabric, and the faint knock of teeth against teeth filled the darkness, sending heat rushing to her face.

After what seemed like an endless stretch of time, the fierce tangle between them finally began to ease.

Ashton lifted himself off her, his breathing still uneven, the heat of what had just happened lingering in his movements.

He didn't say anything at first. He simply watched Lindsay in silence for several seconds. Then he bent toward her. His lips brushed against her forehead-light, almost weightless, and completely unexpected.

A moment later, he picked up the suit jacket lying discarded on the floor and draped it carefully over her bare skin.

The oversized material still carried his scent, enveloping her instantly.

Once he was done, he didn't spare her another glance. He turned away and headed straight into the en-suite bathroom.

The door clicked shut behind him, and not long after, the steady sound of running water followed.

A few minutes later, Ashton stepped back out.

His hair was damp, droplets sliding down from the strands at the front. The top two buttons of his shirt were undone, the fabric darkened where it clung to his skin. The hunger that had burned in his eyes earlier had disappeared. In its place were focus, restraint, and composure.

"Now, tell me your plan," he said.

Lindsay didn't respond right away. Instead, she pulled the torn fabric over her chest and held it in place. "I'll explain when the time is right. Just don't forget your promise, Mr. Clarke."

"I always keep my word." He moved closer, his tall frame casting a shadow over her. "But if you're lying to me, the cost will be more than you're prepared to pay."

"That applies to you too." She met his eyes steadily. "If I find out you double cross me halfway through, or decide I'm nothing more than a piece you can throw away..."

A quiet laugh left her lips, hollow and cold. "Someone with nothing left to lose doesn't scare easily. And if I'm going down, I'm gonna drag whoever I can with me."

They held each other's eyes for a moment. The tension between them remained thick and unmoving.

Ashton looked at her a second longer, something unreadable flickering across his face.

"Go."

Lindsay left the hotel. Her phone vibrated again. It was still Tyler.

"Honey, the driver said he didn't find you. Where are you? I'm worried."

She stared at the message, at the insincere concern in every word, before slowly typing a reply.

"Honey, I'm still not feeling well. I think I've just been too stressed lately. I took a cab home already. I want to get some rest tonight."

Then she flagged down a passing taxi, gave the driver the address, and sat quietly for the rest of the ride.

As the car made its way through the city streets, she looked out the window indifferently.

The wind outside felt like it passed straight through her, but the anger inside her, fueled by betrayal and humiliation, only intensified.

Tyler, Jenna, and everyone in that room who had laughed. For every single thing they had done to her, she would make sure they paid for it with interest.

When the taxi finally stopped, Lindsay stepped out and walked toward the grand mansion ahead.

Once inside, she moved without hesitation. She washed away every trace of what had happened, changed into clean clothes, and had just settled onto the couch when she heard the front door open and familiar footsteps approach.

Tyler entered quickly, his face arranged into obvious concern.

Jenna followed closely behind him.

Tyler crossed the space between them and pulled Lindsay into a tight embrace, holding her so firmly it made breathing difficult.

"Honey, you had me worried sick! The driver said he couldn't find you anywhere. I thought something might've happened."

What a convincing act! A wave of cold disgust rose in Lindsay's chest.

She let him hold her, her expression nearly blank.

Tyler leaned slightly, his cheek close to her ear.

A faint, soft, and familiar scent reached her nose-Jenna's perfume, the one she wore all the time.

Lindsay's body tensed just slightly.

Tyler didn't notice. He only tightened his hold.

She glanced down, and through the slight opening at his collar, she saw it.

A fresh, unmistakable kiss mark, vivid against the skin near his collarbone.