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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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chime erupted from Bradley’s phone resting on the nightstand.

Trembling, he unlocked the screen. The email from an anonymous proxy contained a PDF of Hannah’s authentic hematology reports—HCG levels absolutely zero. Attached was the bank wire transfer. Finally, he tapped the audio file. The terrified voice of the clinic technician filled the silent continue reading …

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