Chapter 1

I accidentally discovered that the daughter I carried for ten months was not related to me by blood. However, she was biologically related to my husband, Adam Wilkins.

I placed the paternity report on the table.

Adam picked it up. As he flipped through it, his face drained of color.

It took him a long time to finally look up, his voice barely above a whisper. "During the IVF process, the embryos were switched. The embryo used belonged to Daniella.

"Daniella is a dancer. She can't bear children. Moreover, she once saved my life. I owed her."

*****

I just stood there, completely stunned.

Daniella Trevino was Adam's ex.

Adam had mentioned her before—swore he hadn't talked to her in years.

"Daniella's? Why did you use her embryo?" I practically yelled.

Adam pressed his lips together, refusing to say another word.

I couldn't believe what I was hearing. I stepped forward.

I said, "Adam, you say you owe her, so you use our child to pay back that debt? What about what you owe me? Did you forget everything I did for you? Did you forget how you made it through those hard times?

"If I hadn't caught the blood type mismatch during that medical exam, were you planning to hide this from me for the rest of my life?"

Seven years ago, when Adam's family went broke, Daniella didn't waste a second—she ditched him and took off overseas.

He'd hit rock bottom. Lost his job, lost the girl, lost it all. I found him standing at the river's edge, dead-set on suicide.

I was the one who dragged him away from that river, brought him home, and stuck by him through the worst, nursing him back to life.

When Adam tried to start from scratch, nobody would give him the time of day. I even sold my house to get him the cash he needed to kickstart his new business.

Our basement rental was cramped and damp, freezing in winter with no heat. I let him have the blanket, and I'd wrap my arms around him over the covers, keeping us warm.

When he finally made it back to the top, he dropped to one knee and proposed.

Two years into our marriage, we started trying for a baby.

Out of nowhere, he told me he had low sperm count and we couldn't get pregnant naturally. He suggested IVF.

I didn't think much of it at the time. As long as the baby was ours, I didn't care how we got there.

For the IVF, I took time off work to go to the hospital. My arms and belly ended up covered in needle marks. Some days, the pain was so bad I could hardly walk.

He'd wrap me in his arms, voice soft with worry. "Vicky, you've been through so much. When our baby arrives, I promise I'll make it all up to you."

And now? He told me the baby wasn't even mine.

"Does it really matter whose child she was?" Adam shot back, irritation creeping into his voice. "She came out of your body, didn't she? Ella calls you Mom, and hasn't she always been close to you?"

I just stared at Adam, feeling like he was a complete stranger. It made my skin crawl.

Was he really the same guy who once clung to me in that dark basement, promising, to give me the happiness I deserve when he made it big?

My voice shook. "Adam, how could you say something like this? I went through hell for that child, and now you're telling me she's not even mine—and that it doesn't matter who she really belongs to?

"What am I to you? And what is Ella to you?"

He didn't say a word. He just looked down, lips pressed into a hard line—like he didn't even want to keep arguing with me anymore.

Suddenly, I just felt so drained.

*****

When I came downstairs the next morning, Adam was already sitting at the dining table.

He was holding his tablet, a cup of coffee in front of him, as if yesterday's fight never happened—completely unfazed.

"Where's Ella?" Adam asked.

His tone was as casual as ever, like all the drama yesterday had been just my own fever dream.

I headed into the kitchen, grabbed a cup, and poured myself some warm water. My voice came out hoarse. "Emily took her to kindergarten."

Adam just said, "Okay", buried himself back in his tablet, and after a few moments, finally looked up again.

As if he thought of something, he said nonchalantly, "Oh, by the way, Daniella's got cancer. The doctors say she doesn't have much time left, and she wants to see Ella."

He went on, "I was thinking, maybe we could have her come over as a nanny. Makes it easier for her to hang out with Ella, no big deal."

I nearly dropped my cup—hot coffee splashed onto my hand, but I didn't even feel the sting.

I stared at Adam, his expression totally emotionless—like he was discussing something trivial.

"Adam, do you know what you're saying?" I burst out.

I couldn't believe what I was hearing. "We haven't even dealt with this yesterday, and now you want to bring Daniella into our home? Do you really think that's okay?"

He looked away, dodging my gaze, and took a slow sip of his coffee. "Seriously, what's the problem? She's got barely any time left—why not do a good deed? And besides, Ella's her kid just as much as yours. Of course she'd want a chance to see her."

"A good deed?" I scoffed, barely holding back a laugh. "Adam, what am I supposed to be then?

"You used my womb to give her a child, and now you want to invite her into our home? Did you ever stop to think about how I feel? Do I even count as your wife anymore?"

He set his coffee cup down, his brows knitting together in disappointment, his voice growing sharp.

He said, "Vicky, how can you be so cold-hearted? She's dying, and you can't even grant her this one last wish? Ella's her flesh and blood—what's so wrong with letting her spend a little more time with her own kid?"

I was stunned for a second, my mind suddenly pulled back to everything we'd been through together.