The Surrogate Wife's Revenge Ends In Checkmate

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."