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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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artisanal soup—a pathetic, transparent olive branch.

“Allison, cease this petulant silent treatment and sit up. Eat,” he sighed, exasperation dripping from his voice as he strode inward. “You instigated that entire fiasco by physically assaulting Hannah. Consume this, apologize, and we can sweep this unfortunate hysteria under the rug.”

His arrogant continue reading …

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