Reject Being a Surrogate Incubator: The Tech Genius Returns

The next day, instead of waiting for the Beaumont family dinner, Finley walked straight into Jaison’s top-floor office, perched high inside a downtown skyscraper. It was the first time she had ever taken the initiative to visit his company in three years of marriage.

The entire office was decorated in cold tones of black, white, and gray. Floor-to-ceiling windows overlooked the whole of Washington D.C., exuding an overwhelming aura of power and oppression—just like Jaison himself.

Owen White, Jaison’s personal assistant, looked visibly surprised at her sudden appearance. Still, he maintained his professional composure and led her inside. “Mrs. Beaumont.”

Jaison was seated behind his desk, buried in documents. He only lifted a lazy glance when she stepped in, his tone sharp and displeased. “What are you doing here? I told you not to miss tonight’s family dinner.”

“We need to talk.” Finley set a sealed document folder down on his desk, her voice steady and calm.

Jaison made no move to touch the folder. He leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest and regarding her with a cold, scrutinizing gaze. “I don't have time for your emotional drama, Finley.”

Unfazed by his dismissive attitude, Finley held his gaze firmly. “Open it.”

Irritated, Jaison finally reached for the folder and pulled out the documents. The moment his eyes landed on the title labeled Divorce Agreement, he froze briefly before a mocking, cold smile tugged at his lips.

“Divorce?” He let out a laugh as if she had told him a ridiculous joke. “What's your new trick, Finley? Are you jealous of Charlotte? Trying to get my attention this way?”

His words sliced sharply through her chest, yet Finley felt no shock. She had long expected this reaction. In his eyes, every single one of her actions was nothing but a cheap attempt to cling to his attention.

“I'm serious, Jaison. I want a divorce. And I want full custody of Esteban.” Finley spoke every word clearly and unwaveringly.

The second the word custody fell from her lips, the amusement on Jaison’s face vanished completely, replaced by a dark, menacing glint in his eyes. “Full custody? You must be out of your mind. Do you honestly think you stand a chance of taking a Beaumont heir away from this family?”

He pushed himself to his feet and stepped toward her, his tall frame towering over hers, pressing down on her with overwhelming dominance. “Let me remind you, Finley. Everything you have—your title, your luxurious life, even your family’s struggling company—all of it exists because of me. Without me, you are nothing.”

Before Finley could respond, the private phone on his desk rang.

One glance at the caller ID instantly softened the harshness in Jaison’s eyes. Finley caught the name flashing on the screen—Charlotte Wright, her own younger cousin.

He did not bother to avoid her presence and answered the call directly, his tone carrying a gentle warmth Finley had never once heard from him. “Hey, what's wrong? ... Don't cry, I'll be right there.”

After hanging up, he grabbed his coat in a hurry, completely ignoring Finley as he headed for the door.

“Our conversation isn't over!” Finley called out behind him.

Jaison paused in his tracks and glanced back at her, his gaze laced with nothing but contempt and disdain. “My conversation with you ended three years ago. As for the divorce... my lawyer will contact yours. But you can forget about taking Esteban.”

With that, he left the office without a single glance back, leaving Finley standing alone in the empty room.

Finley clenched her fists tightly, her nails digging deep into her palms until they stung. Not a single tear fell from her eyes.

She walked out of the Beaumont Industries skyscraper, the bright sunlight outside stinging her eyes. She knew a brutal, all-out war was inevitable. Sliding into her car, she dialed her lawyer, Nathan Hayes.

“Nathan, he refused the divorce terms. He’s going to fight me for full custody of Esteban.”

Nathan’s calm, rational voice came through the line. “It’s expected. We need solid proof that he is an unfit parent. Any evidence of his affair or inappropriate conduct will be critical to winning the case.”

Finley returned to the empty manor, sinking tiredly onto the sofa as she sorted through her next plan of action.

Moments later, her phone lit up with an incoming video call from Esteban. A flicker of fragile hope stirred in her chest, and she answered it quickly.

Esteban’s face, a near-perfect replica of Jaison’s, appeared on the screen—yet his expression was twisted with raw anger. “Did you go to Dad’s office today just to cause trouble?”

Finley froze in shock. “Who told you that?”

“Aunt Charlotte told me! She said you’re trying to take me away from Dad! You’re a terrible mother! I hate you!” Esteban shouted bitterly through the screen.

He ended the video call abruptly, leaving no room for explanation.

The phone screen faded to black, reflecting Finley’s deathly pale face. She finally understood the full extent of Charlotte’s manipulation. Not only Jaison, but even her own son had become a weapon her cousin wielded against her. This war was far crueler and more difficult than she had ever imagined.