The Surrogate Wife's Revenge Ends In Checkmate

Voices drifted out from the guest room.

"Tyler, how could you… try to push me onto that Parker guy?" Jenna's voice trembled, thick with tears and disbelief. "You're aware of how I feel about you…"

"Don't cry, sweetheart." Tyler's voice softened into the same gentle tone Lindsay was used to. "You know you're the only one who matters to me. I just said that to keep Lindsay satisfied. You know I never meant any of it. What's the point of getting upset over her? Once she's no longer of any use…"

Even through the half-closed door, the disdain and cold malice in his voice sent a chill through Lindsay's entire body.

Jenna's voice took a suggestive tilt, turning low and honeyed. "Tyler… I've missed you so much…"

Her voice trailed off into soft, intimate murmurs, accompanied by the faint sounds of kissing and unsteady breaths.

Lindsay remained in the dim hallway outside, her entire body frozen.

Her stomach twisted sharply, a wave of nausea climbing up her throat.

This was the man she had poured everything into.

This was the woman she had embraced as family, someone she had loved and protected wholeheartedly.

How disgusting and pitiful!

Her fingernails pressed into her palms. The sudden sting was what made her realize that she had been clenching her fists tightly enough to break the skin. A warm, damp sensation spread between her fingers—blood.

She had never been someone who backed down.

The Lindsay she used to be would have burst through the door immediately, dragged their betrayal into the open, signed the divorce papers, and left without a second glance.

But…

Lindsay shut her eyes, and the image of her mother asleep in that hospital room surfaced in her mind.

Back then, Tyler had convinced her to approve the patent transfer, withdraw from the company, and focus on preparing for IVF.

He'd told her that marriage meant unity and that her dividends and shares should be placed into a joint account he would oversee "to optimize returns."

Blinded by the devotion he had so carefully put on display, she had handed everything over without question.

Now that same trust had turned into a weapon aimed at her.

If she exposed everything now, there would be no way she'd recover her money, not against someone like Tyler. He would likely twist the situation to his advantage and leave her with nothing.

And how would she continue paying for her mother's treatment?

How would she manage the rest of the expenses?

The throbbing in her palm grounded her.

Lindsay pulled out her phone, eased it toward the gap in the door, and recorded the revolting scene inside.

Afterwards, she returned quietly to the bedroom and lay down.

Sometime later, the bedroom door opened without a sound.

Tyler walked in, noticed that she seemed to be asleep, and visibly let his guard down.

Afterward, he took a brief shower, got into bed, and draped an arm around her.

In the darkness, Lindsay kept her eyes closed and maintained a steady rhythm to her breathing, playing the part of someone deeply asleep.

Still, a soft, overly sweet trace of another woman's perfume lingered on him.

When she was certain he had drifted off, Lindsay slowly opened her eyes.

In the faint moonlight from the window, they were sharp and distant, completely devoid of sleep.

Her eyes settled on the marks left on Tyler's neck.

For a fleeting second, the thought crossed her mind to press a pillow over his face and finish everything.

Instead, she moved with care, rising without making the slightest sound.

She picked up Tyler's phone and slipped into the bathroom, quietly locking the door behind her.

Guided by the dim light of the screen, Lindsay keyed in the password she remembered.

It didn't work.

His previous passcode had been the date he became president of Hardy Group.

When had he changed it?

She pursed her lips, paused to think, and then entered Tyler's birthday. It was still incorrect.

At that moment, a notification banner slid across the top of the screen.

The message was from Jenna. "I love you, Tyler."

Several photos came with it.

Lindsay looked at the six-digit passcode field, a realization beginning to form.

Could it be…

She punched in Jenna's birthday.

The phone unlocked. A faint, chilling smile appeared at the corner of Lindsay's lips.

"So you really do care about her, Tyler."

Jenna's conversation sat pinned at the top, and Lindsay saw the highly suggestive photos she had just sent.

There were also numerous large, unaccounted-for transactions in his bank records—purchases of jewelry, expensive items, and other expenses that clearly had nothing to do with Lindsay.

Carefully and systematically, Lindsay collected all the proof and stored it.

She marked Jenna's most recent message as unread before returning Tyler's phone to its exact spot she picked it.

Tyler. Jenna. Every deception, every calculated move, and every humiliation they had put her through was carved into her memory.

Lindsay swore she would make sure they learned just how dangerous a "tool" could become when it had nothing left to lose.

...

Before long, the weekend arrived, and the birthday party proceeded as planned.

Bright lights filled the venue, designer outfits and polished smiles crowded the space, and the air buzzed with empty courtesies and artificial laughter.

Her hand linked through Tyler's arm, Lindsay stood on the second-floor balcony and surveyed the gathering until her focus locked onto a man standing in the dim corner below.

He had just entered quietly, dressed in a perfectly tailored black suit, and was already looking up at her.

Ashton.