Page 6
Story: The Last Move Is Mine
After the mission was completed, I pretended to be exhausted: “Darling, I’m tired. Can we go home now?”
Wesley nodded quietly and turned to Charlotte, “Ms. Wilson, you should also go home early.
Even as he spoke, they exchanged subtle signals that they believed only they could decipher. I played my part, pretending not to notice anything.
When we arrived home, I flopped onto the sofa and looked at Wesley. “Darling, I believe Ms. Wilson is an excellent candidate. Let’s add her to our list,” I said.
It took him a while to understand what I meant by the “list”.
I expected him to be overjoyed because choosing Charlotte as the surrogate would give him a lot of leeway, but to my surprise, his reaction was firm and unwavering.
“She’s not suitable,” he stated firmly.
I sat up, puzzled: “Why not? She’s pretty and has a similar build to me. If I recall correctly, she graduated from a prestigious university. Her genetics should be excellent. What is wrong with her?”
Before I could finish speaking, Wesley dropped to his knees before me.
I attempted to assist him right away, taken aback.
But Wesley remained stubbornly on his knees, refusing to budge. With his head hung low, he said softly, “Honey, I apologise. “I’ve been hiding something from you.”
I attempted to help him up while saying, “Whatever it is, we’ll talk about it after you get up. If there is a problem, we will resolve it together. “Seeing you like this breaks my heart.”
The more understanding I appeared, the more guilty he seemed to feel. It didn’t matter if his feelings were genuine; as long as he expressed his guilt, I could use it as leverage.
Despite all of my efforts, he remained kneeling on the floor; again, I hadn’t used much force.
At that pathetic sight, I caved in and said, “All right, just tell me.” What have you been hiding from me?”
Wesley raised his head to meet my gaze, which was tinged with annoyance and genuine concern, and then slapped himself twice across the face.
I was startled and grabbed his hand, “What are you doing? Please tell me! Why would you harm yourself?”
Finally, Wesley reluctantly confessed the situation between him and Charlotte–but only in his altered version of events.
In his account, he and Charlotte had only made the mistake once after drinking too much, and his reasoning was sound.
He claimed that during a particularly stressful period at work–when the company was working on a major project and I had recently had a miscarriage–he felt physically and emotionally exhausted.
After closing a deal over drinks one evening, Charlotte offered to drop him off at a hotel because it was getting late; they had both been drinking, and they had accidentally slept together.
He said he wanted to fire Charlotte, but she begged him tearfully, saying she had worked extremely hard to get into the company and mentioned her unfortunate family circumstances.
She dismissed the affair as a one-time mistake between two consenting adults, a secret she promised to keep to herself.
Wesley nodded quietly and turned to Charlotte, “Ms. Wilson, you should also go home early.
Even as he spoke, they exchanged subtle signals that they believed only they could decipher. I played my part, pretending not to notice anything.
When we arrived home, I flopped onto the sofa and looked at Wesley. “Darling, I believe Ms. Wilson is an excellent candidate. Let’s add her to our list,” I said.
It took him a while to understand what I meant by the “list”.
I expected him to be overjoyed because choosing Charlotte as the surrogate would give him a lot of leeway, but to my surprise, his reaction was firm and unwavering.
“She’s not suitable,” he stated firmly.
I sat up, puzzled: “Why not? She’s pretty and has a similar build to me. If I recall correctly, she graduated from a prestigious university. Her genetics should be excellent. What is wrong with her?”
Before I could finish speaking, Wesley dropped to his knees before me.
I attempted to assist him right away, taken aback.
But Wesley remained stubbornly on his knees, refusing to budge. With his head hung low, he said softly, “Honey, I apologise. “I’ve been hiding something from you.”
I attempted to help him up while saying, “Whatever it is, we’ll talk about it after you get up. If there is a problem, we will resolve it together. “Seeing you like this breaks my heart.”
The more understanding I appeared, the more guilty he seemed to feel. It didn’t matter if his feelings were genuine; as long as he expressed his guilt, I could use it as leverage.
Despite all of my efforts, he remained kneeling on the floor; again, I hadn’t used much force.
At that pathetic sight, I caved in and said, “All right, just tell me.” What have you been hiding from me?”
Wesley raised his head to meet my gaze, which was tinged with annoyance and genuine concern, and then slapped himself twice across the face.
I was startled and grabbed his hand, “What are you doing? Please tell me! Why would you harm yourself?”
Finally, Wesley reluctantly confessed the situation between him and Charlotte–but only in his altered version of events.
In his account, he and Charlotte had only made the mistake once after drinking too much, and his reasoning was sound.
He claimed that during a particularly stressful period at work–when the company was working on a major project and I had recently had a miscarriage–he felt physically and emotionally exhausted.
After closing a deal over drinks one evening, Charlotte offered to drop him off at a hotel because it was getting late; they had both been drinking, and they had accidentally slept together.
He said he wanted to fire Charlotte, but she begged him tearfully, saying she had worked extremely hard to get into the company and mentioned her unfortunate family circumstances.
She dismissed the affair as a one-time mistake between two consenting adults, a secret she promised to keep to herself.