The Surrogate He Discarded

Morgan cast a brief glance toward the host. The man, sharp enough to catch the unspoken message, immediately understood.

Leaning in, he whispered something into Martin’s ear.

Martin chuckled and shook his head as if dismissing the suggestion.

”All right, all right,” he said, raising both hands to quiet the crowd. ”Looks like our time’s up. The CEOs are starting to get restless, and if I keep talking, they might have me escorted off the stage.” His eyes sparkled with amusement. ”I’ve had an amazing time performing for all of you tonight.”

A wave of applause swept through the room.

Then his gaze shifted to Isobel.

”And I especially enjoyed singing with someone as talented and beautiful as the young lady standing beside me.”

The audience responded with knowing smiles and a few teasing cheers.

Martin turned fully toward her and gently took her hand. Before Isobel could react, he lifted it and brushed a lingering kiss across her knuckles. The gesture was elegant, almost old-fashioned, yet intimate enough to send a ripple of excitement through the crowd.

Lowering his head slightly, he spoke in a voice meant only for her.

”I’ll come find you later,” he murmured. ”We still owe each other that duet.”

For a brief moment, his eyes held hers, warm with unmistakable interest.

Then, placing a protective hand at the small of her back, he escorted her off the stage amid the audience’s applause. His attention remained fixed on Isobel, so completely occupied by her presence that he seemed to forget Charlotte altogether.

A few steps behind them, Charlotte followed with a stiff posture and a smile carefully pinned to her face. To everyone else, it appeared polite and composed. But beneath the practiced expression, disappointment and humiliation simmered quietly as she watched Martin devote all of his attention to another woman.

...

A flicker of relief crossed Kristoff’s face when Isobel mentioned Kristine and Morgan. For a moment, the knot tightening in his chest loosened.

So that was it.

His fear was Isobel would admit that she was thinking about Morgan and herself.

But the relief lasted only a heartbeat. A darker thought slipped into his mind before he could stop it.

What if that wasn’t true? What if she just used Kristine as a convenient cover to divert attention?

What if she was just thinking about Morgan... and the woman was herself?

His jaw tightened. The possibility lodged itself in his mind like a thorn, impossible to ignore.

On the stage, Martin was showering Isobel with praise, his attention fixed entirely on her. The audience seemed equally captivated.

Kristoff’s gaze drifted to Isobel. He had heard her sing before.

Sometimes while she was showering, when soft melodies drifted through the bathroom door with the steam. But the sound of running water had always muffled her voice, and he had never paid much attention.

Sometimes while she cooked or tidied the house, she would absentmindedly hum to herself.

But that was just humming. Certainly, not enough to realize she could sing like this.

That was different.

Under the glow of the stage lights, she seemed transformed.

Her voice carried effortlessly through the ballroom—clear, expressive, and hauntingly beautiful. Like the voice of an angel. No, not an angel but a mermaid, even though he never heard both.

Every note drew people in. Every smile she gave seemed brighter than usual.

It was as if he were seeing her for the first time.

And judging by the way Martin looked at her, he wasn’t the only one.

A shadow settled over Kristoff’s expression.

His eyes never left Isobel. Not when Martin complimented her. Not when the crowd applauded. Not even when Martin reached for her hand.

Only when Martin began escorting her off the stage did Kristoff finally tear his attention away.

And then he remembered Charlotte.

His stomach sank.

A few paces behind them, Charlotte descended the stage alone.

The smile on her face was still there, but it looked painfully strained, as though it might shatter at any moment. The excitement she’d worn earlier had vanished completely, replaced by quiet humiliation.

Watching her trail behind Martin and Isobel like an afterthought, Kristoff felt a stab of guilt.

He had been so focused on Isobel that he hadn’t spared Charlotte a second glance.

Pushing back his chair, he rose abruptly.

Without another thought, he headed toward the stage to help Charlotte down.

...

Morgan on the other hand knew Isobel’s singing talent.

The moment he stepped into the ballroom earlier, he knew Isobel would have another shining moment.

He wasn’t surprised in the least. He had heard her sing countless times before.

The memory surfaced vividly in his mind.

The first time had been in the nursery. He had gone looking for his twins one evening only to stop abruptly at the doorway.

Inside, Isobel sat between the cribs, gently rocking one of the babies while singing a lullaby. The soft melody drifted through the room like a warm breeze.

Morgan had stood there motionless, one hand still on the doorknob. He hadn’t entered. Hadn’t even dared to make a sound.

For those few minutes, all he could do was listen.

The scene had felt almost unreal.

Bathed in the soft glow of the nightlight, with her gentle voice wrapping around the twins like a blanket, she had looked less like a woman and more like an angel sent to watch over his children.

From that day on, he often found himself pausing whenever he heard her singing.

Sometimes it was a classical piece. Sometimes a popular love song.

Other times it was an old ballad he didn’t recognize.

It was almost as though she were conducting her own little experiment, trying to discover what kind of music the twins enjoyed most.

And eventually, she had. Kirsten loved upbeat pop songs. Kristoffer preferred classical music.

The realization had amused him more than once.

A smile tugged at Morgan’s lips as the memory faded.

His gaze found Isobel again.

The applause had finally died down, but the excitement in the ballroom lingered. People were still talking about her performance. They still looking her way, still captivated.

Morgan watched as Martin escorted her back toward her table. The two exchanged a few words that he couldn’t hear. Then Martin reluctantly released her hand.

Isobel smiled politely and turned toward her seat.

Morgan’s attention remained fixed on her. So fixed that he noticed something nobody else seemed to.

A man wearing oversized glasses suddenly came hurrying through the crowd.

His head was lowered. His pace was unusually rushed. And he wasn’t watching where he was going.

At the same moment, a waiter carrying a tray loaded with drinks stepped into his path.

Morgan’s eyes narrowed.

The collision happened in an instant. The man slammed into the waiter.

The tray tilted violently. Glasses shattered. Amber liquid flew into the air.

And every single drink came crashing toward Isobel.

Morgan shot to his feet.

”Isobel!”

But he was too far away.

So the drinks rained down on her—