Chapter 3 The Surrogate

• Catherine’s P.O.V
• I feel my throat close the moment Lydia claps her hands together, her rings jingling like tiny warning bells.
• “Come closer, dear,” she says sweetly, resting a manicured hand on the arm of the young woman standing beside her. Caroline Tanner. Pretty. Soft-spoken. Ribbons tied neatly around her wrist, as if she’s some beautifully wrapped parcel. A gift.
• My stomach turns.
• “What… what is this?” I manage to whisper, but my voice sounds like it’s scraping against itself.
• Lydia beams at me, and the smile is too bright, too sharp. “Catherine, darling, don’t pretend you don’t understand. Caroline is the solution we have all prayed for.”
• “Mother.” Xavier’s voice finally comes, low and cautious…except instead of anger, there’s excitement simmering beneath it. Excitement. He looks at Caroline like he’s seeing a future. Then he turns to me, and there’s something unreadable in his eyes. “Cathy… this could help us.”
• The ground drops from under me.
• “You knew?” I ask him, barely moving my lips. “Xavier… you knew about this?”
• He doesn’t answer immediately. That silence is a punch.
• Lydia steps in, delighted…delighted to fill it. “Of course he knew. My son is practical. He wants an heir. We all do. Poor Caroline has been waiting so patiently.”
• Caroline blushes, fiddling with the ribbon. “Mrs. Dalton said… it would help your family. I only want to be of service.”
• “Of service?” My voice cracks. “You make it sound like…like…”
• “A gift,” Lydia finishes for me, her eyes glinting. “Which she is.”
• I look at Xavier again, begging…begging for him to say something, to defend me, to even pretend this isn’t completely insane.
• “Xavier,” I whisper, “please tell me you didn’t agree to this behind my back.”
• He inhales deeply, jaw tightening, but still no anger. No surprise. Nothing I need from him.
• “Cathy… we’ve been trying for years. You know how important this is to my family. My mother only wanted to help.”
• “Help?” I choke out a laugh that sounds like I’m breaking. “By surprising me with a woman wrapped like a Christmas present?”
• Lydia tuts loudly. “Oh, don’t be dramatic, Catherine. It’s not as if she’s replacing you. You simply can’t give him a child. It happens. And we must all be adults about it.”
• T this point everyone is watching. Every guest silently waited for me to explode, or cry, or embarrass myself and Lydia knows it.
• She’s enjoying every second, her smile is turning sharper, crueler, like a blade she’s polishing with my humiliation.
• Caroline takes a timid step forward. “Mrs. Dalton said that if you… remove the ribbon, it means you accept me into the family in whatever way you choose.” She points at her belly gently. “She said it would be an honor to serve you.”
• Serve me. God. She’s talking about ‘serving me’ while my entire world falls apart!
• I swallow, trying to keep my voice from shaking. “Lydia… why would you do this here? In front of everyone?”
• “Transparency,” she replies, putting a hand dramatically on her chest. “And tradition. Women in this family have always solved their fertility issues gracefully.”
• My fingers curl painfully at my sides. “By humiliating them?”
• “Oh, don’t be childish,” she snaps, her sweet tone dissolving. “Just take off the ribbon, Catherine. Don’t make a scene.”
• “Cathy… it’s just a ribbon,” he murmurs. “Please.”
• Just a ribbon? Something inside me shatters. Did Xavier not know that beneath the ribbon is a living being…a baby…his.
• Lydia steps closer, practically purring now, whispering just loud enough for us to hear, “If you refuse, dear, everyone will think you’re insecure. Jealous. Weak. And I’ll have no choice but to explain why this arrangement is necessary.”
• I feel the threat slide under my skin like venom.
• “And if I take it?” I ask, barely breathing.
• “That means,” she says, smiling wide, “you accept the gift. You acknowledge your limitations with grace. You show the world that you are mature enough to want what is best for my son.”
• Her son. Not my husband.
• My hand trembles as Caroline steps forward. Lydia’s smile widens…hungry, triumphant, savoring every second of my torment.
• I stare at the ribbon. At Xavier. At the woman who came into my home believing she’s helping us and slowly, painfully, I feel myself unravel.
• I smile. I don’t know how I’m doing it, but I smile…wide, warm, gracious…the kind of smile a daughter-in-law should wear on Christmas evening, even when her chest is cracking like thin ice. I force my lips upward as Lydia steps aside with a triumphant sweep of her hand.
• Caroline looks to be in her early to mid twenties. Pretty in that delicate, unsure way. And already showing…a small, unmistakable bump pressing against her golden gown.
• My throat closes, but I keep smiling.
• “Oh, Catherine,” Lydia croons, as if she hasn’t just plunged a knife into my ribs. “Go on. Unwrap your gift.”
• The girl blushes and stretches her arms aside. The red ribbon tied to her waist like a present. My husband’s child is in her womb.
• I step closer. My fingers tremble as I touch the silky ribbon. “Merry Christmas,” she whispers timidly.
• “Merry Christmas,” I echo, my voice painfully steady as I untie the ribbon finally, letting the fabric fall to the floor. “Thank you for… for doing this.”
• Lydia clasps her hands together. “Oh, she’s just thrilled to help our family. Aren’t you, dear?”
• The girl nods softly.
• I inhale shakily and look at her belly again. “How many months along are you?” The question tastes metallic, like blood.
• “Four,” Lydia answers before the girl can open her mouth. “I wanted to make sure the first trimester was over before introducing her. You know…no chances of miscarriage ruining the surprise.”
• My stomach twists.
• “And the baby?” I ask quietly. “How… how was it conceived?”
• “IVF, of course,” Lydia replies with a dismissive flick of her wrist. “Everything was handled months ago. Very straightforward.”
• Months ago. My heartbeat stumbles. Xavier stands beside me, silent…still…too still. His jaw tightens when I turn to him. His eyes won’t meet mine.
• He knew. Not only did he know…he took part in this madness…willingly!
• “I…excuse us,” I murmur tightly. “Just… give us a moment.”
• Before anyone can respond, I take Xavier’s hand…cold, rigid and pull him away from the room, down the hallway where the Christmas lights don’t reach.
• As soon as we’re alone, I drop his hand as if it burns me.
• “Xavier,” I whisper, but the whisper cracks. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
• He exhales, rubbing the back of his neck. “Cathy, listen…”
• “No.” My voice shakes, thick with betrayal. “Answer me. You did IVF with another woman…you created a baby with her and you didn’t tell me? You let me go to doctor appointments, let me cry over negative tests, let me blame myself while you were doing this behind my back?”
• “It wasn’t behind your back,” he says sharply, then winces at his own tone. “I mean…I didn’t want to hurt you.”
• “Hurt me?” I laugh, a small, broken sound. “You didn’t want to hurt me, so you let your mother present me with a pregnant woman like a Christmas gift?”
• “Cathy…”
• “Did you ever plan to tell me? Or were you going to wait until she showed up in the delivery room too? Or worse…walk in with a newborn and announce it was yours?”
• He drags a hand through his hair, eyes dark with frustration. “I was trying to protect you.”
• “Protect me?” I choke out. “By deceiving me?”
• “It wasn’t deception,” he insists, stepping closer. “I wanted a family with you. WE wanted a family. This was the only way.”
• “You didn’t even ask me,” I say, tears gathering but refusing to fall. “You didn’t give me a choice, Xavier.”
• He swallows hard, finally meeting my eyes. “I was scared you’d say no.”
• “So you decided for me.”
• “Yes,” he whispers. “Because I couldn’t watch you break anymore.”
• I take a step back, shaking my head. “You broke me anyway.”
• “Cathy…”
• “Don’t,” I warn softly. “Just… don’t.”
• Silence stretches between us, heavy and suffocating.
• He opens his mouth, but no words come out…only guilt, thick and unmistakable, darkening his features and for the first time in six years, I wonder if love is enough to survive this kind of betrayal.
• Then he whispers, “Why are you so upset?”