My Husband’s Student Surrogate Chapter 2

When I was in the third grade, my father went back to prison. My mother didn't say a word; she just packed a bag and left me behind. My only relatives were two aunts who treated me like an unwanted piece of luggage, kicking me back and forth between their houses.

I grew up in the shadows of other people's homes, living in constant fear. When I was ten, my uncle tried to put his hands on me in the middle of the night. I cracked his head open with a heavy lamp.

The scandal was massive. My aunts called me a "little slut" and decided to ship me off to foster care.

It was Christopher’s mother—who was also my teacher—who took me in.

In those early days, I would hide in the laundry room and cry. Christopher would find me and press a piece of chocolate into my hand without a word.

At seventeen, I thought he was seeing someone else and spent a week acting out in a jealous fit. He demanded to know what was wrong until I broke down in tears. He looked at me with such helpless devotion and pulled me into his arms.

At twenty-seven, we married. At the altar, his hands shook so hard he could barely slide the ring onto my finger. He choked up during his vows.

"Natalie, we have so many decades left. I dreamed about us last night—two old people with white hair, walking hand in hand. I think that’s God's promise to us."

Only one decade had passed. I didn't have a single gray hair yet. And he had already traded our "forever" for a girl who made his heart race.

Christopher’s phone buzzed. He glanced at me, muttered a quick "stop crying," and walked out.

I laughed until I felt sick. A violent wave of nausea hit me, my internal organs twisting in a knot of physical grief.

A few minutes later, the door opened again. Christopher pulled me up by my arm.

"I need you to go in there and calm her down," he said.

He dragged me toward the maternity ward. I felt every eye in the hospital tracking us.

Brianna Scott was pale, looking fragile in her recovery bed. Her face and neck were flushed a deep, blotchy red from crying. She looked utterly pitiable.

"Dr. Brooks, I’m so sorry," she sobbed. "I really didn't know the extent of your relationship with Professor Miller."

"The baby has nothing to do with him. I’ll raise her myself. I won't come between you ever again."

"Chris, please apologize to your wife. Beg for her forgiveness."

Christopher wiped her tears with a tenderness that made me want to scream. Then, Brianna did something insane. Ignoring her fresh surgical incision and the IV lines, she scrambled out of bed and dropped to her knees on the cold tile.

Her face contorted in genuine pain. "I'm sorry, Natalie! It was me. I seduced him. Blame me, hit me, do whatever you want—just please, don't hurt my baby. She’s innocent..."

Christopher looked like his heart was shattering. He lifted her back into bed and then roared at me, "Natalie, say something! Are you a statue?"

I just looked at him and smiled. It was the only thing I had left.

He grabbed my wrist, his face a mask of irritation. "Is it that hard to be human? She’s just a girl. she just gave birth. Why do you have to be so cruel?"

My phone began to vibrate incessantly. I yanked my arm away from him. It was the Chief of Medicine. He wanted to see me in his office. Immediately.

My stomach dropped. I knew this wasn't good.

"Natalie," the Chief said, sighing heavily as I entered. "A formal complaint reached the Board. They’re accusing you of abuse of power and professional misconduct—specifically, that you used a medical procedure to intimidate a student."

"We’ll investigate, obviously. But the promotion to Associate Chief? That’s off the table for now. You need to take a few weeks of administrative leave. Let the dust settle."

I clenched my fists and walked back to Brianna’s room.

"Christopher, is this the plan? You won't be happy until you’ve destroyed my entire life?"

He knitted his brows, his expression cool and detached. "I have no idea what you’re talking about."

I trembled with a mix of fury and sorrow. "Why here? Why did you bring her to my hospital? Why did you make medeliver her child?"

"This hospital has the best OB-GYN department in the city," he said calmly. "The baby was high-risk. I wasn't going to gamble with their lives. As for the surgery... that was just luck of the draw."

I nodded, biting my lip so hard I tasted blood. "Fine. But what about you? If this goes public, what happens to your tenure? Her reputation? You’re throwing it all away."

He pushed his glasses up his nose, considering his words. "I turned in my resignation a month ago. A friend of mine, Marcus, asked me to join his private surgical group. He’s giving me equity."

"And Brianna? She’s already transferred to a different university. I’ll continue to mentor her there."

I started to clap. I couldn't help it. "Bravo. I’m the only one who didn't get the memo. I'm the only one left standing in the ruins."

Christopher’s face darkened with shame-induced anger. "I should have consulted you. If you can't handle this, then fine. We get a divorce."

"We don't have kids. I’ll give you the house and the car. Whatever else you want, just name it."

A sharp, stabbing pain flared in my lower abdomen. I let out a long, cold peal of laughter.

"Why would I make this easy for you? You want me to step aside so you can play house? In your dreams."