The Surrogate He Discarded

Kristoff cleared his throat. The sound was deliberate.

Only then did Morgan and Isobel turn their attention to him, as though they had momentarily forgotten he was even in the room.

The realization left a bitter taste in Kristoff’s mouth.

He forced his expression into its usual calm mask.

”So,” he said, his voice measured but edged with steel, ”what’s your plan, Morgan?”

Morgan met his gaze without the slightest hint of urgency.

”Why ask me?” A faint smile tugged at the corner of his lips. ”This is your hotel.”

His eyes swept lazily toward the window before returning to Kristoff.

”If the reporters downstairs are becoming a nuisance... surely you can have them removed.”

The challenge was unmistakable.

For a brief moment, neither man looked away.

Kristoff said nothing.

Instead, he slipped his phone from his pocket and typed a short message.

Clear the entrance and the Summit Hall. Remove every reporter. Immediately.

He hit send without another word.

Morgan caught the subtle movement but merely smiled.

As if on cue, his own phone vibrated moments later.

He answered without taking his eyes off Kristoff.

”Jack.”

A brief pause.

”Yes, Boss. The reporters have all been cleared from the hotel entrance. Security has established a perimeter.”

Morgan’s smile deepened ever so slightly.

”Good.”

He ended the call and slipped the phone back into his pocket.

Then he turned to Isobel, his expression softening instantly.

”It’s safe now.”

He extended his hand toward her.

”Let’s go back. The summit is only half way.”

Isobel looked at his outstretched hand before nodding.

Before following him, she glanced at Kristoff for a fleeting moment, as though wanting to say something. But no words came.

She turned and walked away beside Morgan.

Kristoff remained where he stood, watching their retreating figures.

The suite suddenly felt far too quiet.

For the second time that day, Morgan had won without raising his voice.

And somehow...

That stung far more than defeat in any business negotiation ever had.

...

The towering double doors of the ballroom swung open.

Conversations died instantly. The clinking of wine glasses ceased. Even the string quartet faltered before falling completely silent.

For one surreal moment, the grand ballroom seemed frozen in time, as though someone had pressed pause on the entire world.

Hundreds of eyes turned toward the entrance and every gaze landed on Isobel.

She instinctively slowed.

Her throat tightened, and her knees threatened to give way beneath the weight of so many judging eyes.

Without warning, Kristoff stepped to her right as if to protect her.

Morgan remained on her left standing like a sentinel.

Unknowingly, Isobel found herself walking between the two most powerful men in the room.

The sight alone sent another wave of whispers through the crowd.

Women looked at her with envy while the executives took a double take.

Morgan leaned slightly toward her.

”Keep your head high,” he murmured, his voice calm enough that only she could hear. ”The moment you lower your eyes, they’ll think you’ve admitted guilt.”

Isobel drew in a slow deep breath. She closed her eyes and when she opened them again, they were bright and clear.

He was right. She had done nothing wrong.

Straightening her shoulders, she lifted her chin and walked toward the VIP section with quiet dignity. Her strides were steady and unhurried.

The whispers gradually faded. Not because people had lost interest...but because Morgan had stepped onto the stage.

Without asking permission, he took the microphone from the bewildered host.

”Ladies and gentlemen.”

His deep voice echoed effortlessly across the silent ballroom.

”I’m sure every one of you has already seen the stories circulating online. They are false.”

His gaze swept across the audience.

There was no hesitation in his voice. He did not make excuses nor he attempted to evade the issue.

”Earlier today, many of you witnessed the unveiling of Project KitKat. You also heard Isobel explain that its name was inspired by my twins. I am happily married to my wife, Kristine, and nothing published online changes that fact.” Morgan’s deep and clear voice carried through the hall.

He paused just long enough for his words to settle.

”As for Isobel Lancey...”

Morgan looked toward her.

”She is my employee. An exceptionally capable one. She has committed no wrongdoing, yet she has become the primary target of malicious speculation. She is the most innocent one.”

His expression hardened.

”The people responsible for manufacturing this scandal are not interested in the truth. They are threatened by the success of Project KitKat. And I will make sure that they will be held accountable.”

The ballroom remained deathly quiet. No one dared interrupt him. No one dared question him.

Then, a slow deliberate clap echoed from the back of the hall.

Every head turned.

A man emerged from the crowd, applauding with an amused smile on his face.

”An impressive speech, Mr. Morgan.”

His voice carried effortlessly through the ballroom.

”But...”

He stopped walking only a few feet from the stage.

”...what if someone here has evidence that tells a very different story?”

The ballroom exploded into hushed murmurs.

Guests exchanged uneasy glances, whispering among themselves as every pair of eyes shifted toward the man standing at the back of the hall.

Morgan’s expression remained unreadable, so did Isobel’s.

Only Kristoff reacted. His eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly as recognition dawned.

Felix Black.

CEO of a rising tech startup. One of the contractors he hired for a minor project he had when he was still the CEO of Dalton Technologies.

Competent... but nowhere near influential enough to challenge Morgan Foster in public.

Which meant only one thing. Someone else was standing behind him. Someone far more powerful hiding behind the scenes.

Kristoff’s gaze sharpened.

Who are you working for?

Morgan slowly descended the steps of the stage, stopping just close enough to face Felix without surrendering an inch of his authority.

”President Felix Black.”

He spoke the name with measured clarity, his deep voice carrying effortlessly through the silent ballroom.

”If you’ve come here with evidence...”

A faint, almost imperceptible smile crossed his lips.

”...then present it.”

He folded his hands behind his back, completely at ease.

”My conscience is clear. Anything you intend to show this audience can only be fabricated.”

The confidence in his voice was so absolute that even those who had doubted him found themselves wavering.

Morgan slowly turned, his icy gaze sweeping across the sea of distinguished guests.

”I believe we’ve entertained this spectacle long enough.”

His voice dropped, calm but commanding.

”This summit was never meant to be a stage for cheap theatrics. It was created to foster innovation, collaboration, and progress—not to indulge those who seek attention through slander.”

”This farce ends here. and as for your Felix Black, show your evidence in court!”