When my husband, James, asked me to be a surrogate for his brother’s fiancée, I should have trusted my gut. Something about the whole situation felt off, but James knew exactly how to convince me.
At first, it started as a simple invitation to a family meeting at his mother’s house. I rolled my eyes as we drove over, already dreading whatever drama was about to unfold.
“What is it this time?” I sighed. “Did your mom find another scratch on her precious china and decide I’m to blame?”
James kept his eyes on the road, his fingers drumming the steering wheel. “It’s something important, Jess. Just hear them out, okay?”
When we arrived, Diane, my mother-in-law, greeted us stiffly before guiding us into the living room. James’s younger brother, Matt, was already there, sitting awkwardly in the armchair.
Diane sat down across from me, folding her hands in her lap. “Jessica, we have something very special to ask you.”
I glanced at James, but he avoided my gaze.
Matt cleared his throat and finally spoke. “Jessica, I’m engaged.”
I blinked in surprise before smiling. “Congratulations! When do we get to meet her?”
Matt and Diane exchanged a look.
“Uh… I’m not sure. She’s a wildlife photographer,” Matt explained. “She’s in the Ethiopian Highlands right now, trying to get footage of Ethiopian wolves. The cell phone signal is awful in the mountains.”
“The thing is,” Diane cut in, “my future daughter-in-law has some health issues. She desperately wants children, but she can’t carry a pregnancy herself.”
I suddenly had a bad feeling. My stomach twisted as all three of them looked at me expectantly.
“We were hoping,” Matt continued, “that you might consider being a surrogate for us.”
The words hung in the air like a storm cloud. I turned to James, expecting him to be as shocked as I was, but his face was unreadable. That’s when I realized he’d known all along.
“You want me to carry your baby?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.
“Think about what it would mean to Matt,” James said, squeezing my hand. “And the compensation would help us and our kids so much. We can add to their college funds and finally do those kitchen renovations you’ve been wanting.”
“But your brother’s fiancée… shouldn’t I at least talk to her first? This is a huge decision.”
“She’s completely on board,” Matt assured me. “We did the IVF before she left. The embryos are frozen and ready. All we need is a surrogate.”
“But I haven’t even met her.”
“She’ll be back in the States soon,” Diane said, patting my knee. “You two will get along splendidly, I’m sure.”
I felt trapped. James knew exactly how to push my buttons—our children’s future, our home, our finances. Despite the nagging feeling in my gut, I nodded. “I’ll do it.”
The pregnancy was harder than I expected. The morning sickness was relentless, my ankles swelled, and my back ached constantly. Through it all, Matt checked in regularly, but his fiancée? Not a single call. Not a single message.
“Has Matt’s fiancée called yet?” I asked James one night as I struggled to find a comfortable position in bed.
“She’s still traveling,” James mumbled. “You’re stressing yourself out for nothing. It’s not good for the baby.”
“The baby,” I whispered. “Not me.”
As my due date approached, my unease grew. I called Matt directly. “When is your fiancée coming back? I’d really like to meet her before the birth.”
“Soon,” he promised. “She’s still in Ethiopia, trying to get pictures of some incredibly rare bird in the Nechisar Plains.”
I sighed. She was impossible to pin down.
Then, the day arrived. James rushed me to the hospital while I clutched the dashboard, pain ripping through me. Matt and Diane arrived soon after, but I threw up a hand.
“Out, both of you,” I gritted through clenched teeth. “This is too personal.”
A nurse checked my vitals. “Six centimeters. Moving right along.”
Then James’s phone chimed. He checked the message, his face unreadable.
“I’ll be right back,” he said. “Matt’s fiancée is here.”
Moments later, James returned with a gorgeous woman.
I recognized her instantly.
“Rachel?” The name slipped from my lips like a curse.
Rachel—James’s high school sweetheart. The woman whose name I had banned from our house after catching James drunkenly scrolling through her social media years ago.
“Jessica!” Rachel beamed. “I can’t thank you enough. You made our dream come true!”
The room spun. I turned to James, my voice shaking with rage. “You knew. You knew exactly who she was. And you never told me.”
James barely flinched. “It wasn’t relevant.”
“Not relevant?” I hissed. “You asked me to carry a child for the woman you never got over, and that wasn’t relevant?”
Diane chimed in, her voice sickly sweet. “Sweetheart, don’t overreact. Rachel wanted a baby, and you were the perfect choice!”
“Perfect? You mean convenient! She wanted to keep her body perfect, so you all decided mine could handle the work!”
Rachel flushed. “I didn’t mean—”
“Quiet!” I roared as another contraction hit. “Liars. Manipulative little—”
James sighed. “Jessica, it’s done. The baby is here. Just let it go.”
I turned to the nurse, ignoring everyone else. “I need a moment alone with my husband.”
The second the door shut behind everyone else, I fixed James with a cold stare. “We’re done.”
He blinked. “What?”
“This marriage. Us. You tricked me into being an incubator for that witch. You disrespected me for the last time.”
James actually laughed. “You’re blowing this way out of proportion.”
“Am I? Then you won’t mind when I take everything I’m legally entitled to in the divorce.”
The color drained from his face.
“Jessica—”
“No.” I cut him off. “You took away my choice. Now I’m taking back my life.”
I went through labor alone. When the baby was finally placed in my arms, I felt a storm of emotions. But I knew one thing for sure—I had to let go.
“This baby isn’t mine to keep,” I whispered, handing the child back to the nurse.
Within the week, I had a lawyer. I filed for divorce, secured full custody of my children, and ensured James felt the full weight of his betrayal.
Months later, my lawyer slid the final divorce papers toward me. “He’s agreed to all terms. You won, Jessica.”
I signed my name with steady hands. “I didn’t win anything. I just stopped losing.”
As I stepped outside into the crisp fall air, my phone buzzed. A message from James: “Rachel had the baby christened yesterday. They want you to know they’re grateful.”
I deleted the message without responding.
Rachel got her perfect body. James got what he deserved.
And me? I got my freedom.
