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“You’ll suffer naturally because you’re toxic,” my doctor husband sneered, blocking the nurses from performing a C-section for my giant 10-pound baby as revenge for his intern. I writhed in pain, clutching the bed rails until my knuckles turned white. When the grueling delivery finally ended, the heavy delivery room doors banged open. My husband staggered in, his face drained of color as he looked at the newborn chart, fell to the floor, and shrieked, “No… that’s impossible! Whose child is-“

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the private line of a luxury medical transport conglomerate. The CEO was a phenomenally wealthy patriarch whose severed femoral artery I had clamped with my bare hands on the asphalt of a highway pile-up three years prior. He owed me a life. I was collecting.

By 3:15 AM, a covert extraction team comprising four burly security contractors and two elite continue reading …

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