Chapter 17 Chapter 17: Moving In?
Catherine’s P.O.V
I stared at Lydia and the surrogate in stunned silence, my mouth opening and closing like I might say something, anything, but the words refused to come. My mind was scrambling, fumbling for a foothold, and all I could do was watched as Xavier rose from his chair, his face taut with confusion and frustration.
“Mom,” he said, his voice calm but edged with a tension that made my chest tighten, “what do you want? Why did you really bring Caroline here?”
Lydia waved him off dismissively, that same imperious gesture that always made my skin crawl, and before Xavier could protest further, she stepped closer to Caroline, helping her sit with a gentleness I had never, not once, seen directed toward me. My heart thudded in my ears as I tried to make sense of what was happening, but nothing about this made any sense.
“Catherine, Xavier,” Lydia said finally, her tone firm but oddly serene, like she was delivering a matter-of-fact announcement rather than shattering our world, “it’s time that Caroline moved into your house.”
I felt the color drain from my face, my knees threatening to buckle under me. I struggled to find words, but only a small, trembling sound came out.
“I… what do you mean?” I managed, my voice barely audible, my throat tight with fear and disbelief.
“She is carrying Xavier’s baby,” Lydia said, and I swear, for a moment, the room spun, the words looping around my brain in disbelief.
“The Dalton heir. She needs to be kept in luxury, Catherine. She needs to be taken care of, spoiled. That is the only way she will give birth to a healthy, happy child.”
I blinked rapidly, trying to process it. My hands gripped the armrests of my chair as though anchoring myself to some solid point in the chaos. “You… you mean she’s…going to…stay here?” I whispered, barely forming the words.
Xavier’s face tightened. “Mom…” he started, but Lydia cut him off with a raised hand, that imperious, silencing gesture that made me flinch.
“No, Xavier,” she said sharply. “You need to understand this. Caroline is your responsibility now, and this child…the Dalton heir, must be protected above all else. That is your priority. Catherine, you’ll adjust. You always do.”
I shook my head, the disbelief, the hurt, the betrayal all twisting in my chest. “Adjust? How… how am I supposed to… I live in the same house as… as her?” My voice broke, and I couldn’t stop the trembling in my hands.
“She will stay in your home, Xavier’s home, because she needs every comfort,” Lydia said, ignoring my distress entirely.
“We have to give her the best, Catherine. That child’s well-being depends on it. You must understand that. Luxury, care, attention, indulgence…it is all necessary. Do you understand?”
I swallowed hard, my throat dry, my mind reeling. “But… but what about us? What about me? What about…” I stopped, realizing I didn’t even know what I wanted to say anymore. “What about me, Xavier?”
He didn’t answer immediately. He looked from me to his mother and back again, his jaw tight, his hands clenched at his sides. Finally, he said quietly, almost painfully.
“Cathy… I…this isn’t what I wanted, but… I don’t know what to say. We have to deal with it.”
I shook my head again, tears stinging my eyes. “I can’t… I can’t just… live like this. In the same house… with her… carrying your… our future…” My voice broke, and I couldn’t continue. I just looked at them, at Lydia with her calm, unyielding eyes, at Caroline who seemed oddly serene in all of this, and at Xavier, who looked caught between loyalty, obligation, and something I couldn’t name, and I realized my world had tilted on its axis in a single, horrifying afternoon.
Lydia stood straighter, her voice ice-cold and unwavering. “Catherine, you will. The child comes first. You must understand that. You need to stop being selfish and thinking only about yourself.”
I felt as if the floor had been ripped from beneath me. I had no words left. No defenses. No answers. Just the sharp, piercing knowledge that nothing in my life would ever be the same again.
I blinked at Lydia, my mouth opening and closing like a goldfish, because what she had just said sounded utterly absurd.
“Lydia,” I began, my voice sharp, bordering on incredulous, “that is ridiculous. Thousands of surrogates around the world give birth without ever having a proper connection to their donor families. It’s not some…some magical bond that has to exist for it to work. It’s a transaction, a responsibility, not…” I stopped myself, realizing my words were tumbling out too fast, too heated. “Not a relationship.”
Lydia leaned back, folding her arms and letting a small, knowing smile curl on her lips, the kind that made me want to slap her because it was so infuriatingly composed.
“Catherine,” she said, her tone gentle but carrying that weight of authority she always seemed to wield effortlessly, “you’re missing the point entirely. Caroline isn’t just any woman. She’s my friend’s daughter. She’s someone I care about, someone who deserves to be living in the same luxurious environment you’re accustomed to while she does all the hard work for the Dalton family. Don’t you see that? She deserves that. If you can live a life of pure luxury, then why shouldn’t she?”
I stared at her, dumbfounded, my brain struggling to process the audacity dripping from every syllable.
“Wait,” I said slowly, trying to keep my voice steady, “you’re saying she deserves to live like…like royalty, while…while I…what, I slave over…over everything else? That’s…” My words choked off as I realized I couldn’t even form a proper sentence without it sounding like I was accusing her of something monstrous, which, of course, in my mind, she absolutely was.
Lydia’s gaze softened, just enough to make me question whether I was overreacting or if she was a master manipulator. “Cathy,” she said, leaning closer, “you don’t have to say anything. You’re thinking it, I can see it. But understand this: Caroline’s role here is delicate. She’s the bridge between the past and the present for this family. She’s giving life in a way that matters more than anyone understands. And yes, she should be protected, pampered, even, because her contribution is…precious.”
I felt my hands ball into fists at my sides, unsure if I should laugh, scream, or cry, or perhaps do all three at once. “Precious?” I echoed, my voice almost a whisper, trembling with disbelief.
“You’re calling her contribution…precious? Lydia, it’s her body. She’s doing what she’s been asked to do, like thousands of women before her. And now you’re turning it into some kind of moral imperative that she gets the penthouse view, the luxury meals, the…what else? Spa treatments while everyone else breaks their backs? It’s absurd!”
Lydia tilted her head, her expression almost amused, as if she had anticipated this exact eruption.
“Catherine,” she said softly but firmly, her eyes locking onto mine with a weight that silenced me for a fraction of a second, “absurd is what you’re calling it because you’re thinking selfishly. You’re looking at effort, labor, work ethic, and forgetting…some things, some people, deserve more than effort. They deserve protection, comfort, and dignity. Caroline is one of those people. She’s not just anyone. She’s special. And you…you can’t deny that either. You wouldn’t be able to sleep at night if she wasn’t properly taken care of while she carries the future of the Dalton family, would you?”
I froze, caught between rage and an uncomfortable twinge of guilt, because I had no words, no retort that could land against the audacity of her logic. I opened my mouth, and nothing came out. My throat felt dry, my mind a whirlwind of what-ifs and impossibilities. Lydia just watched me, patient, unyielding, satisfied in that infuriating way of hers.
Finally, I whispered, almost to myself, “I…can’t believe you just said all that.”
“And yet I did,” Lydia said, a soft laugh escaping her lips, warm but sharp, slicing through the tension like a scalpel.
“Now, Catherine, you can fume all you want, but know this: Caroline will have everything she needs and there’s nothing you…or anyone else can do to change it.”
I looked at her, stunned, wordless, trapped in that strange mix of admiration, disbelief, and simmering resentment. She leaned back, calm, untouchable, and I realized I had lost this argument before it even started.
Xavier finally cleared his throat, his voice steady but carrying that unmistakable edge that always made people listen. “Mother,” he said, looking directly at Lydia, “this isn’t what we agreed on. Caroline isn’t staying here like this. I’ll take her to a proper hotel or a nice villa…somewhere she can live in real comfort, in luxury if she wants, and I’ll pay for everything. All services, all care…everything she needs.”
Lydia’s eyes narrowed, sharp and fierce, her voice snapping like a whip through the tension in the room.
“Xavier, this isn’t just about tossing money at Caroline. You think money can replace what this is really about? Making sure she feels connected…connected to you, to the people for whom she’s growing the baby. That’s what matters, Xavier. Do you even understand that?”
Xavier’s jaw tightened, and I could hear the weight behind his next words. “Mother, I do understand, but this is the way it has to be. Caroline’s carrying my child, yes, but Cathy’s also my wife. She deserves to feel comfortable too.”
Lydia’s lips pressed into a thin line. “You think it’s about comfort, Xavier? It’s never just comfort. It’s about connection. The baby needs to feel it. You need to feel it. And she…” she gestured at Caroline with a sharp flick of her hand, “...she needs to know who she’s doing this for.”
Caroline’s eyes flicked to mine briefly, a tiny smile tugging at the corner of her mouth, and I felt a chill run down my spine. There was something cunning in that glance, a secret that I couldn’t quite place, and then just as quickly, it disappeared, leaving her looking almost fragile, almost timid.
Xavier exhaled, and his shoulders slumped slightly, like the fight had drained out of him for a moment.
I swallowed hard, my throat dry, and glanced at Xavier. He looked exhausted, torn between his mother’s relentless insistence and the woman beside him who was supposed to carry his child. And I knew that we had just lost the battle.
Lydia was going to get her way, while I was going to have to watch Caroline’s belly grow, watch her bask in her pregnancy glow, all the while knowing that she was giving this family the one thing I couldn’t.