My Husband Turned Me Into His Mistress's Surrogate

I pushed open the heavy oak doors of the Ashford estate. Every step sent a fresh wave of agony through my surgical incisions, but I refused to hunch over. I forced myself to stand tall.

The silence I expected was broken by a bright, mocking laugh echoing from the living room.

I stepped into the grand foyer. Six designer suitcases sat in a neat pile by the sweeping staircase. They weren't mine.

I walked toward the voices.

Celeste lounged on the velvet sofa, her legs draped across the cushions. Her arm rested in a pristine white cast. She held a crystal glass of sparkling water in her good hand.

Adrian sat right beside her. He held a silver knife, carefully peeling an apple for her.

"What is she doing here?" I asked. My voice scraped against my dry throat.

Adrian looked up. He didn't drop the knife. He didn't rush across the room to help me. He didn't even ask about the staples holding my abdomen together.

"Celeste is staying with us," he stated. He set the peeled fruit on a napkin and handed it to her. "Her apartment is currently unlivable."

"Unlivable," I repeated. I gripped the doorframe to keep my knees from buckling. "She has a luxury penthouse downtown."

"There was a minor plumbing issue in her building," Adrian explained smoothly. "She needs a quiet place to recover. She has nowhere else to go right now."

"I insisted on a hotel," Celeste chimed in. She took a slow sip from her glass. "But Adrian wanted me here. Where it's comfortable."

"You need to be understanding, Vivian," Adrian said. His tone carried that familiar, polished authority. "She was severely traumatized in the crash."

"Traumatized," I echoed. My fingers curled into fists. "You drove us off a mountain, Adrian. I bled out in the wreckage while you carried her away."

"I made a split-second decision to save the person in immediate danger," he shot back. His jaw set into a hard line.

"You left your pregnant wife to die!"

"Keep your voice down," he warned. "The staff will hear you."

"Let them hear!" I shouted. The physical agony in my stomach was nothing compared to the ice flooding my veins. "I know the truth, Adrian."

He froze. The silver knife slipped from his fingers, clattering against the glass coffee table.

"I spoke to the doctor," I continued. I held his gaze, refusing to blink. "I know about the fertility clinic. I know the child I carried wasn't mine."

Celeste set her water glass down. A smug, satisfied smile touched the corners of her mouth. She didn't look surprised. She looked victorious.

Adrian didn't deny it. He stood up, brushing a speck of dust from his tailored trousers.

"So your father finally told you," he said.

"You admit it?" I choked out.

"Of course I admit it," Adrian replied. He crossed his arms over his chest. "Did you really think I married you out of love?"

His words hit me like a physical blow.

"You were a transaction," he explained, his voice entirely devoid of warmth. "My family required an heir. Celeste's medical history made it impossible for her to carry a pregnancy safely."

"So you used me."

"I selected you," Celeste corrected. She leaned forward, resting her chin on her good hand. "I went through dozens of profiles. You were young, healthy, and your father was desperate enough for cash to sign the non-disclosure agreements. You were the perfect incubator."

My stomach heaved. I thought of the nursery upstairs. The tiny clothes folded in the wooden dresser. The months of morning sickness and the gentle kicks against my ribs.

"You let me believe we were building a life together," I whispered.

"I gave you the Ashford name," Adrian snapped. "You lived in absolute luxury. You wore custom jewelry. You attended galas. You should be on your knees thanking me. A woman of your background would never have qualified to step foot in this house otherwise."

"I was your wife!"

"You were a surrogate," he corrected coldly. "Nothing more. Your father signed away your rights to the child before you even walked down the aisle."

"He sold me."

"He secured his company's future," Adrian countered. "It was a mutually beneficial arrangement."

I stared at the man I had slept next to for two years. He looked like a complete stranger. The charming smile and gentle hands were all a calculated act.

"The baby is gone," I said, my voice trembling.

"An unfortunate setback," Adrian noted. He checked his gold watch. "But the contract remains. We still need an heir."

"What are you talking about?"

"The clinic has more embryos," he said smoothly. "Once you heal from the crash, we will schedule another implantation."

I stepped back. "Are you insane?"

"It is a simple procedure," Adrian pressed. "If you want to keep playing the role of Mrs. Ashford, you will undergo the IVF treatments again."

He spoke as if he were ordering a replacement part for a broken machine.

"You want me to do it again," I whispered.

"It is your only use," he stated. "Do this, and you get to keep the credit cards and the social status. Refuse, and I will throw you out onto the street with nothing."

I looked from Adrian's hard, expectant face to Celeste's amused smirk.

A dry, broken sound escaped my lips. I couldn't stop it. The laugh tore through my chest, rattling my ribs and pulling at my fresh stitches.

"What is so funny?" Adrian demanded. His eyes narrowed.

"You didn't read my medical chart, did you?" I asked.

"I spoke to the surgeon briefly. He said you would recover."

"I will heal," I agreed. I took another step forward, closing the distance between us. "But I bled too much, Adrian. The crash destroyed my organs."

His brow furrowed. "Speak plainly, Vivian."

"They took my uterus," I told him. I kept my voice perfectly flat. "I can't carry a child. Not yours. Not anyone's. I am completely, permanently barren."

The color drained from Adrian's face. He stared at my stomach as if seeing it for the first time.

"No," he muttered. "That wasn't in the report."

"It's the truth."

Celeste broke the silence. A soft, melodic chuckle slipped from her lips. She stood up, smoothing the front of her silk blouse.

"Well," Celeste said. She walked over to Adrian and looped her good arm through his. "Then she is completely worthless now."

Adrian didn't correct her. He didn't defend me. He just stared at me with pure, unadulterated disgust.

"Get your things," he ordered.

"Adrian..."

"I said get your things!" he shouted. He pointed a rigid finger toward the front door. "If you can't give me a child, you have no place in my home."

I stood my ground. My hands shook, but I refused to let a single tear fall for this monster.

Before I could turn to leave, the heavy oak doors behind me swung open again. Footsteps echoed heavily against the marble floor.

"She isn't going anywhere," a deep, unfamiliar voice announced.

I spun around. Standing in the threshold was the man from the mountain road.