“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-“
of his mediocrity finally broke him. He collapsed onto his side, curling into a fetal position, sobbing uncontrollably into the dust.
Three weeks later, the medical elite of Nashville gathered for a prestigious philanthropic gala at The Hermitage Grand Ballroom. I arrived on the arm of Gavin Barrett, draped in an immaculate, armor-like black velvet continue reading …
