What the Hell Was She Thining

This is a plot thread I first saw from Hooked1957. I then saw it again by other authors and decided to take a run at it. I am not trying to rewrite or edit anyone else's story, this is purely my take on the plot line.

One of the things I am getting lots of comments about is too fast an ending. I did that because my first stories were dragged out too much. I will try to balance it with this one.

Thanks again to my editor Kenji, he does a fantastic job every time I need it.

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I was on my way home from work with a bad feeling in the pit of my stomach. I was not sure why, but I had a feeling I was about to find out. It had just turned five o'clock on a Friday night. This was unusual for me, as work was my own business and I liked to spend time in the office alone on a Friday night, making sure everything was up to date and ready for a big day on Saturday.

I'm Mark Ashworth and my business is Ashworth Auto's. I had started life as a motor mechanic when I was sixteen. I opened my own garage when I was twenty, specialising in high-end European cars. There were a lot of those on the road in our county, but the only mechanic was over 150 miles away. Yes, it was expensive to set up, but I had a friendly bank manager who understood my business plan and I was a very gifted mechanic, with some collateral left to me by my grandfather.

All the European cars were driven by wealthy individuals. They came to me because I had a good reputation. It wasn't long until they started asking me to source cars, usually secondhand, for their sons and daughters when they started to drive. I quickly added a secondhand car business to my mechanics garage, and then a body repair shop after that. I was now thirty-eight, had four locations in the county, and owned a business that was conservatively worth eight million dollars.

I was coming home early because my wife, Hannah, said she needed me home early today. She had a big proposal and she wanted to talk to me about it. Hannah was 35 and we had been married for fourteen years. We met because her dad, John, had asked me to source a car for her for her twentieth birthday. Sparks flew between us instantly. The day she collected her car, she asked me out. We were married a year later, and now had two boys; James, twelve, and Martin, ten.

Hannah's dad, John, was an accountant, but was a really nice guy. Hannah was a partner in the accountancy practice. He helped me a lot in business and had a lot of time for me. Hannah's mum, Stephanie, called me a 'grease monkey' and made it obvious that she thought her daughter could have done better than me.

Hannah had an older brother, Alexander (called Alex) and a younger sister, Susan. Alex never married, and it was clear he had no intention of doing so. Susan was married to a lawyer, named Barclay. He fancied himself as a bit of a shark, but in reality, he scratched out a living as a trial lawyer. Hannah's mother thought he was the greatest son-in-law ever.

Susan had something wrong with her when in her early teens. I never knew exactly what, but she had to have an operation, the net result of which was she was incapable of having children. As a result, our two boys were the only grandchildren. This seemed to annoy Stephanie, but Susan was getting depressed, as all her mother ever talked about was babies.

Hannah was worried about her sister. I had suggested adoption at a family gathering, but Stephanie exploded, saying that she wanted her grandchildren to be biologically hers. The next suggestion by John was surrogacy. Susan asked how that would work, and I explained IVF as best I could. Again, Stephanie screwed her nose up, saying it was too clinical and asked who would donate the eggs.

Later that night, Hannah and I discussed Susan. I suggested she could donate eggs for the IVF. Hannah asked how it would work, and I said I would research it.

It turned out harvesting eggs wasn't that difficult, and I brought the information home. This way, Stephanie could get her biological children and all would be good with the world.

That discussion was about three months ago, and it had come up randomly about every two to three weeks since.

The reason I had a sick feeling in my stomach was because Hannah had been a little 'off' for the last week to ten days. I couldn't put my finger on it, but she was texting back and forth with someone. Usually, she was very open with her phone, but this was secretive. We also hadn't had sex for over a week. She had given me blowjobs, but no penetration. That was very unusual for Hannah.

Our house was on a four-acre plot. The land had been left to me by my grandfather when I was eleven. I built a house on it, soon after we married. My plot was part of a fifteen-acre holding that my grandfather had maintained as a market garden business. He had left the house and one acre to my older brother. The remaining ten acres had been sold to a housing development and the profits were in a trust fund for the benefit of the wider family, including the education for our children.

The house could not be seen from the road, so I turned up the drive to find several cars parked. I knew my bad feeling was justified when I saw John and Stephanie's car, Susan and Barclay's car and a few others I recognised, as more distant family members. I could feel a whole bunch of BS coming my way, and they were going to pretend it was caviar.

I parked my car around the side of the house, and steeled myself for the upcoming storm as I entered the house.

I deliberately came through the garage door, knowing I would not be heard. I stood in the utility room and listened, but all I could hear were muffled voices. I always carried a voice recorder in my pocket. It was something John taught me to do when I went into a meeting, so I could write my own notes after it was finished. Out of habit, I switched it on then placed it back in my pocket, safe in the knowledge it would catch most of the conversation that I knew was coming.

I took a deep breath and pushed the door open and entered the kitchen. There were eight people sitting in the nook, just off the kitchen. Hannah, John and Stephanie, were in the three-seat sofa. Susan and Barclay were in the two-seater, and Alex was in a single recliner, while Joan and Karen, two aunts, were on chairs that had been carried in from the dining room. There was an armchair, that had been moved from my home office, left empty. It had been set so it was surrounded by Alex and the two aunts, and was directly opposite Hannah, John and Stephanie. The ambush had clearly been set.

As I closed the door, Hannah said, "Come on in, Mark, and sit down. We are just having a chat about a couple of things and wanted your input."

I thought to myself, "'Wanted your input,' you mean I'm about to be told something and I am expected to have no choice!"

I went to the nook, but turned one of the stools from the breakfast bar around and sat on it. I wanted the dynamic of the room to change, and sitting on a high stool not only set me separate from everyone else, it also made me higher, meaning they had to look up at me. I didn't speak, but stared Hannah in the eye, and ensured there was a lot of irritation showing on my face. She flared red, as she realised what I was doing, but could not hold my gaze.

I slowly looked around the room. John and Alex would not look at me; Stephanie had a look of triumph on her face, looking like she was about to achieve a burning objective. Barclay looked me in the eye and smirked, like he was about to get one over on me and Susan had a smile on her face, that had not been there for some time.

Hannah sat quietly expecting me to speak. I didn't. After I gazed around the room, I kept staring at her and she tried everything to avoid my gaze. I thought to myself, "I can wait as long as you," and remained silent. This was turning into a battle and she was starting to get angry with me.

Eventually, Stephanie broke the silence when she said, "We have been discussing Susan's problem and we think we have a solution."

I didn't respond to Stephanie and kept my eyes firmly on Hannah, who was now squirming under my gaze.

Eventually, Hannah looked up at me. "Mark, as you know, Susan can't have children and you had investigated the option of surrogacy and we think it is a good option. Mum wanted the eggs to be biologically within the family, so over the last few weeks, we have been discussing the option of me being the surrogate."

I raised my hand to stop her. "You discussed this over the last few weeks? Why did you feel the need to exclude me from these discussions? Obviously, this decision will have a major impact on the boys and me, I would have thought we should have been in on the ground floor with this."

Stephanie piped in, "What do you mean? This has nothing to do with you. Just hold her hand and smile."

I took a deep breath and spoke to Stephanie, without taking my eyes off Hannah. "Of course, it will have an impact on me and the boys. Their mother will be in an IVF clinic, then she will be pregnant, meaning there are things she will not be able to do for them like carry them to bed. She struggled with both previous pregnancies and finished up in hospital for one month both times, with high blood pressure. She will have scans and time in hospital to give birth, which will be taken out of their lives. She will also take time to recover. It takes a certain degree of selfishness to not grasp how disruptive this will be to my family."

My biggest concern was when I said, "IVF clinic." Hannah's eyes flicked around the room, Barclay had a smirk on his face and Susan flinched. What was I missing?

Stephanie, obviously, was relishing putting me in the picture. "There will be no IVF clinic. My grandchild will be conceived in love and passion, not in a test tube."

The lightbulb went on! This was the ambush, and the others were here to keep me under control.

I could feel the anger flair on my face as I screamed, "Hannah, explain NOW!"

She looked around at me. I could see fear in her eyes. The conversation had not gone as she had planned, and now the truth was out and she had lost control of the conversation.

She said, "IVF is not a good option, I went off the pill two months ago, and my period came three weeks ago, and will come properly in another week. The doctors say I will be fertile in about two to three weeks. Barclay was going to move in here for a week over my fertile time and at the end of the week, I should be pregnant. Then Susan and Barclay can adopt a child which is biologically related to both of them."

By this time, I was standing right in front of Hannah. I felt Alex's hand on my shoulder. I tried to shrug it off, but he had a very firm grip on me. I heard him say, "Hold on, Mark. Please don't do anything stupid."

I stood up straight, and to no one in particular, said, "Don't do anything stupid? After that crock of shit, nothing will ever be stupid again."

I now turned to everyone, and said, "Get the fuck out of my house."

Stephanie tried to sit her ground. "No, we need to make the arrangements and agree if you are staying in the house when this happens."

John had stood up and was trying to get his wife out of her seat when I said, "John, I have never hit a woman before, but if that stupid bitch is not out of this house in ten seconds, so help me, I will punch her."

At that point, Stephanie looked in my eyes and for the first time recognised the truth of my words. She rose, and asked, "Hannah, do you need Alex to stay for protection?"

I laughed. "If you think I will physically harm my wife, then you don't know me. If you think this load of BS is going to end well for our marriage, you really don't know me."

Hannah gasped, then said, "Mum, please go. Everyone else go. Mark and I have a lot to discuss."

As everyone left the house I went to my office, locking the door. The first thing I did was download the conversation we just had, then reset the recorder. As I did this, Hannah shouted, "Mark, I have never seen you act so rude to anyone; you need to come out here and discuss this like an adult."

"Good grief, she lays this BS on me and is angry I'm angry!" I thought to myself. I started to laugh, but didn't speak.

With work, I had a system to record all phone calls, texts and WhatsApp messages. They were captured as part of our CRM system, and had saved us a few times when we were billing for extra work. Hannah's phone was a company phone so all her messages were captured, although they were just saved to a junk folder.

I quickly accessed her records and downloaded all voice calls and messages between her mum, Susan, and Barclay.

It actually was easy, as they had set up a WhatsApp group called BABY. The members were Hannah, Susan, Barclay, and Stephanie.

I took my time and reviewed the group. The discussion had started three month ago, right after the day surrogacy had been mentioned. It had started with Hannah suggesting she could donate eggs for a surrogate, but it developed from there into her becoming the surrogate. The key driver in how the conception would work was Stephanie, with Barclay chipping in with eager suggestions. All Stephanie talked about was the baby had to be 'conceived in passion'. She had some irrational opinion that a baby conceived in a test tube would be lacking in emotional maturity.

It took me about an hour to get my thoughts together. I also used the opportunity to contact my lawyer and ask for a referral to a divorce attorney.

I came out of the office to find Hannah sitting in the nook, drinking a glass of wine. She was over the initial burst of anger, but she still had fury written on her face. I looked at her. "Did you really think I would swallow that bullshit in an ambush?"

Her anger flared again when she said, "What do you mean bullshit. We have agreed on a way to help my sister out of her depression, and you act like a spoiled brat, literally throwing my family out of my house!"

I just laughed. "You want to commit adultery under the guise of providing your sister with a child, and you are angry at me for refusing you. Hannah, go and think about what you are suggesting, and remember this is my house as well, and anyone who disrespects me within it, will suffer my full wrath.

"I want you to be very clear-- this is not happening. If you proceed with this, it will lead directly to our divorce. Do you need me to draw a picture to make sure you understand. Now, where are the children? I hope you, at least, had a modicum of sense and kept them out of this mess?"

The word 'divorce' had taken the wind out of her sails, but she recovered, and said, "If you divorce me I will take you to the cleaners with child and spousal support. I will also get half the business, which I will sell to anyone who will take it."

I started to laugh again. She really had taken a good case of 'the stupids' and replied, "I hope you are not taking advice from Barclay. Not only is it bad advice, I will have his license for giving that advice to you as a beneficiary of your actions. But let me explain, not only is this house mine, but the land it is on, came to me before we were married. It is not marital property. We both signed a pre-up, you have no claim on my business, and I have no claim on the business you and your dad share.

"If you plan to get pregnant, especially with someone other than your husband, your medical history will show you will not be fit to look after the children. Remember, you have been hospitalised with blood pressure problems through both pregnancies. So I will go for custody.

"Hannah, if you want a dirty fight, I will give you one. You will not be getting pregnant by Barclay if you plan on remaining married to me. I will not agree to IVF now, because I don't trust you anymore. You have set this up as a case of win or lose, and the prize is our marriage. Now, where are the children? I want to see them."

She realised that I had ended the discussion and she needed to back off. She said, "They are with the Pattersons at number thirty, I will go for them now. Will you make dinner, I left a couple of pizzas in the fridge."

I heated up the pizzas, then played with the boys in the garden until it was time for bed. I knew I needed to talk to Hannah, but I just could not bear to talk to her.

Both boys went to bed at nine-thirty PM, as I had run them and myself ragged playing soccer in the garden. Finally, I was at the point where I couldn't hold it off any longer, so I went to the fridge for a beer, and went into the nook where Hannah was sitting in the single chair. I sat opposite her in the three-seater, took a long drag on my beer, then said, "Did you really believe I would accept you cheating on me to have a baby for Susan. Not only that, you expected me to vacate my own bed. I don't think you understand the total disrespect and humiliation you were planning to heap on me."

I noticed the sad look on Hannah's face when she said, "I have to do something for Susan, my sister is totally depressed. My mother hates IVF, and Barclay says they can't afford it anyway. If you don't allow this, I am afraid Susan will harm herself and I will never forgive myself if she does."

So this was it, this was the big play; basically--blackmail.

I took another drink, then replied, "Cuckolding me puts me in the same place, so there is no way you and Barclay are having a fuckfest to get you pregnant. If they can't afford IVF, we will gift them the money, or we can go fifty-fifty with your parents. If your mum doesn't like it then, then that is her problem.

"Just for complete transparency, I have already asked the company attorney for a referral for a divorce attorney. I am serious; you do this, and we are through. And don't hit me with the cost, I will not remain married to a cheater and if you do this, that is what you will be."

She fled from the room crying, and I heard the bedroom door slam. I could not tell if she locked it, but I decided I was not going to sleep beside her that night. The idea that she might try to convince me with sex was repugnant, and I wanted her to know what it would be like without me.

I went to the office, locked the door again, and pulled down her message log again.

Sure enough, they had been messaging on the group. Susan was clearly distraught, saying this was her only hope and she didn't know what she would do if she didn't have a baby to hold. Hannah had started off by saying she would work on me, and her mum just said, "Do it, ask for forgiveness. He knows you are way above him."

Barclay came back with the line, "He couldn't afford the divorce," but Hannah said that we had a pre-nup, and that the business was outside of the marital assets. Barclay's only reply was, "Oh."

The group had been quiet for a while, but then Hannah popped up with a message saying, "He is looking for a divorce attorney!"

I checked my emails and Tony, the company lawyer, had responded to my email, saying, "Oh god, I thought you two were destined for life. I would suggest Liam Strong. He will email you with a list of his requirements."

Sure enough there was an email from Liam Strong. I opened it and read. The main part of the email was a brief introduction to him and his practice, then a request for information.

I decided that this moment was as good a time as any, so I opened a new Word document and set out what I knew of the last three months. I also copied the WhatsApp group messages and sent him a copy of the document Hannah had signed many years ago, giving the business permission to collect, hold and use her messages.

I then closed the computer, pulled out the sofa bed, and lay down to sleep.

I awoke to someone trying to open the office door. Then I heard a knock and Hannah half shouting, "Mark, what are you doing, why have you not come to bed?"