The Surrogate He Discarded

”She’s only working on the promotional materials for the product launch,” Dean replied.

His tone remained respectful, almost perfectly composed.

Isobel studied him for a moment.

There was something in the way he answered—too quick, too smooth. As if he had already prepared an explanation for the question.

Her brows drew together.

”Then why was she looking at the design blueprints?”

Dean hesitated for the briefest moment before answering.

”Perhaps she was looking for inspiration.”

”Looking for inspiration...”

Isobel repeated the words softly.

It was a reasonable explanation. Claire had been with the company for years, and no one would find it strange for someone involved in the product launch to study the design.

And yet, something about it bothered her.

More than that, Dean seemed unusually eager to defend Claire.

Isobel’s eyes narrowed slightly, but she said nothing more.

Pushing him now would only make him suspicious of her.

”Alright,” she said calmly. ”I understand.”

She ended the conversation and left.

But the uneasy feeling followed her all the way to Morgan’s office.

Morgan’s secretary had just brought in tea when Isobel settled into the chair across from her brother. She wrapped both hands around the warm cup, taking a slow sip as she gathered her thoughts.

”Brother, there’s something odd about Claire.”

Morgan looked up from the documents on his desk.

”Why do you say that?”

”I found her looking at the Lexan blueprints.”

His expression changed slightly.

”Claire?”

Isobel nodded.

”She said she was studying them for the promotional materials for the launch.”

Morgan leaned back in his chair.

”She is working on the campaign. That part is true.”

”I know.”

Isobel lowered her cup onto the saucer.

”Claire has been with the company for a long time, hasn’t she?”

”Hmm.” Morgan nodded. ”She started her career here. She knows the company well.”

Isobel fell silent.

That information should have reassured her.

Instead, it made the uneasiness in her chest grow stronger.

She glanced down at her tea.

”Alright. Maybe I’m reading too much into it.”

Morgan studied her face.

He knew his sister well enough to recognize when she was pretending to dismiss something that was still bothering her.

”What about Dean?” she suddenly asked.

”Dean?”

”Yes. How long has he been with the company?”

Morgan frowned slightly, wondering where the question was coming from.

”He was one of our scholarship recipients. The company sponsored his education. When he graduated, he signed an agreement to work here for at least five years as requirement for the grant.”

”I see.”

Isobel leaned back, her thoughts quietly connecting the pieces.

Claire.

Dean.

Both deeply familiar with the company.

Both had access to information ordinary employees might never see.

And now both had been connected, however indirectly, to the Lexan Project.

Maybe it was nothing. It probably was nothing.

Yet the feeling wouldn’t leave her.

Morgan finally put down his pen.

”Why are you suddenly asking about the two of them?”

Isobel hesitated.

She looked toward the floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the city. Far below, traffic streamed through the streets, looking like toy cars on silver ribbons.

”I don’t know,” she admitted. ”I just have a bad feeling about them.”

She turned back to her brother.

”But maybe I’m overthinking things.”

Morgan said nothing.

”I will get back to my office.”

Morgan nodded and watch her leave.

...

Isobel was gone for some time, and yet Morgan was still deep in thought.

He pressed a button under his table and Jack appeared at the door.

”Boss?”

”Look into what Claire and Dean is doing lately.”

”On it, Boss.”

...

That night, Claire and Katherine went to High Spirits to meet several of their former college classmates. They had reserved a private room, tucked away from the noise of the main bar.

The moment the wine began flowing, the room gradually grew louder.

Glasses clinked against the table, laughter spilled freely, and old college stories resurfaced as everyone loosened up.

Then, amid the chatter, one of their former classmates leaned toward Katherine with a curious look.

”So, is it true? Kristoff Dalton really broke up with Charlotte?”

Katherine lifted her glass, but before she could answer, Claire spoke up.

”I heard the same thing.”

”It must be true,” another classmate said. ”Did you know Charlotte is working on a product endorsement for Pollus now?”

A few people exchanged knowing looks.

”I guess the rumor really is true, then,” Katherine said.

There was a faint glint in her eyes.

Back in college, Katherine had once harbored a crush on Kristoff. But he had always come second.

Morgan had been the one she truly wanted.

Now, that was no longer the case.

Whatever tiny possibility she had once imagined with Morgan had disappeared completely. She finally accepted that there would never be any possibility between them.

And, surprisingly, letting go had made it easier to see other options.

Claire was no different.

She had also stopped chasing after Morgan, and tonight, for the first time in a long while, neither of them seemed particularly interested in talking about him.

One of their classmates noticed Katherine’s expression and grinned.

”Then, Katherine, since Kristoff is single now, are you going to pursue him?”

The question drew a chorus of teasing laughter.

Katherine didn’t answer immediately.

Instead, she slowly swirled the wine in her glass, watching the crimson liquid circle beneath the dim golden light.

A meaningful smile curved across her lips.

”Why not?”

She lifted the glass to her lips and emptied it in one smooth swallow.

The laughter around the table grew louder.

But Katherine merely set the glass down, her eyes gleaming with renewed interest.

Perhaps second choices weren’t always meant to remain second.

...

While the others remained absorbed in their drinking and gossip, Claire quietly slipped out of the private room.

She glanced over her shoulder once to make sure no one had noticed, then walked down the short corridor and entered the room next door.

Unlike the larger room where her classmates were drinking, this one was small and secluded—designed for guests who valued privacy above everything else. The walls were heavily soundproofed, and there were no security cameras inside.

It was exactly the kind of room where secrets could be exchanged without fear of being overheard.

Two men were already waiting.

They sat across from each other in silence, glasses of liquor resting within reach. Neither looked up when Claire entered. Their attention remained fixed on their phones, their faces illuminated by the cold glow of their screens.

Claire closed the door behind her.

”Sorry I’m late,” she said, walking toward them. ”It wasn’t easy to shake off those noisy classmates of mine.”

One of the men finally looked up.

He studied Claire like a hawk.