"Adrian is truly devoted to you. He orchestrated a surrogacy just to spare you the pain!"
"In the past two years, he probably touched that haggard woman less than five times! I see his car parked at your villa every single evening!"
Then Sara Graves's voice floated out—proud, coquettish, sickeningly sweet.
"If it weren't for the children, Adrian wouldn't have touched her *once*. He told me the thought of her body makes him sick. He could only stomach kissing her by closing his eyes and pretending it was me."
Another voice chimed in: "Sara, that gang rape rumor... Adrian arranged that too, didn't he? Just to ruin her reputation so you could force her into the surrogacy?"
A light, dismissive laugh.
"Don't mention that rotten woman. Today we're celebrating *my* babies. Let's drink to their health and happiness!"
Cheers erupted. Flattery poured like cheap champagne.
My fingernails dug into my palms until the skin broke. My chest felt like it was being crushed in a vise.
So it wasn't just the baby.
The humiliation. The rumors. The destruction of my reputation.
All of it was designed by Adrian. He broke me so I would marry him out of gratitude and guilt—the perfect puppet to carry his children.