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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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neither of them realized a crucial detail: I was reclining in my suite across the city, listening to every syllable of their mutual destruction via a microscopic, military-grade audio bug Raymond had planted in the lining of Bradley’s winter coat during the gala skirmish.

Chapter 4: The Phantom Pregnancy

Torrential rain hammered violently against the continue reading …

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