Our surrogate is pregnant with my husband’s baby.
The DNA test says the child isn’t mine.
The voicemail says that’s not even the worst of it.
For seven years, Grace Wright was the perfect wife. She gave up her dream career in Paris, endured round after round of brutal fertility treatments, and smiled at every board dinner while her husband’s family called her broken.
Surrogacy was supposed to fix everything.
Instead, it exposed everything.
Now Grace is done being the gracious hostess of her own humiliation. She has a business to rebuild, a husband to destroy, and a very public party to ruin.
Revenge is a dish best served cold. She’s a chef. She knows exactly how cold.
