It all began one cloudy Saturday when my husband, James, suddenly asked me to go with him to his mom’s house for what he called a “family meeting.”
I raised an eyebrow and crossed my arms. “What now? Did your mom find a tiny scratch on her antique china and decide I must have done it?”
James kept his eyes glued to the road, both hands tight on the wheel. “It’s important, Jess. Just… keep an open mind and hear them out, okay?”
That should’ve been my first red flag.
We pulled into Diane’s driveway—James’s mom—and she opened the door before we could even knock. She gave me her usual stiff, formal hug, like I was some guest she didn’t really want to entertain. Inside, James’s younger brother Matt sat awkwardly in an armchair like he’d been waiting for something big to go down.
I didn’t like the energy in the room. It felt… strange.
“Jessica,” Diane began, flashing that sweet voice she only used when she wanted something, “we have something very special to ask you.”
I looked at James. He wasn’t even looking at me. He was staring down at his hands.
Matt cleared his throat and said, “Jessica, um… I’m engaged.”
I gave him a warm smile. “Wow! Congratulations! When do we get to meet her?”
He and Diane glanced at each other. The pause was long and uncomfortable.
“Well,” Matt finally said, “she’s a wildlife photographer. She’s in the Ethiopian Highlands right now. Trying to capture footage of these super rare wolves.”
He gave a nervous chuckle. “Cell phone service is terrible there.”
Diane leaned in, her face full of that false kindness she always wore like makeup. “Her health isn’t great. She can’t carry a baby herself… but she really wants children.”
Then all three of them looked at me like I was the answer to all their problems.
Matt swallowed hard. “We were hoping you might… maybe… consider being our surrogate.”
I blinked. Did I hear that right?
“You want me to carry your baby?” My voice came out like a whisper, full of disbelief.
James grabbed my hand, his eyes suddenly meeting mine. “Jess, think about what it would mean to Matt. And… the money. We could finally afford to put more into the kids’ college funds. Maybe even do those kitchen renovations you’ve wanted.”
I stared at him, stunned. So this wasn’t just about family—it was about us too?
“But… I haven’t even met his fiancée,” I said slowly.
“She’s 100% on board,” Matt replied quickly. “We already did the IVF and froze the embryos. We just need a surrogate.”
“She’ll be back in the States soon,” Diane added, patting my knee like I was a child. “You two will get along wonderfully. I just know it.”
Everything felt wrong, but there they were—all looking at me like I was the final piece of some carefully planned puzzle.
James knew exactly how to play me. Talk about the kids. The house. Our future. Things I cared about deeply.
Despite the voice in my head screaming Don’t do it, I nodded. Slowly.
“I’ll do it.”
The pregnancy was brutal. Morning sickness hit me like a truck and didn’t let up. My ankles swelled, my back ached, and sleep became a distant dream.
James did what he could. He rubbed my feet and kept reminding me, “It’ll all be worth it, Jess. Think of the money. Think of the kids.”
But even with all that, something felt… off.
Matt stopped by often, always checking on the baby and dropping off vitamins. But his mysterious fiancée? Not a single call. Not even a text.
One night, I turned to James as we lay in bed.
“Has Matt’s fiancée even called yet?” I asked, shifting uncomfortably, one hand on my giant belly.
James didn’t even open his eyes. “She’s still traveling.”
“For nine months?” I snapped. “She hasn’t reached out once to the woman carrying her child?”
James sighed and rolled over. “You’re stressing for no reason, Jess. It’s not good for the baby.”
I whispered, more to myself than him, “The baby. Not me.”
As my due date approached, the uneasy feeling in my chest grew heavier.
I called Matt directly one day. “When exactly is your fiancée coming back? I really want to meet her before I give birth to her baby.”
“S-Soon,” he stammered. “She’s trying to get a shot of some rare bird in the Nechisar Plains. She’s just… busy.”
Seriously? This woman was always chasing some animal around a mountain?
Then the day finally came. My water broke in the early hours of the morning, and James rushed me to the hospital as I clutched the dashboard in agony.
At the hospital, James held my hand during the early stages.
Then Matt and Diane showed up, all excited and nervous. But I was in no mood.
“Out. Both of you,” I said, through clenched teeth. “This is way too personal.”
A nurse checked me. “Six centimeters. Moving right along.”
Suddenly James’s phone buzzed. He looked at the message, then stood up.
“I’ll be right back,” he said quickly. “Matt’s fiancée is here.”
I stared after him, breath caught in my throat.
Moments later, he walked back into the room with a woman I instantly recognized.
“Rachel?”
The name fell from my mouth like a slap.
Rachel. James’s high school sweetheart. The same woman I had banned from being mentioned in our house years ago—after I caught James drunk and scrolling through her Instagram at 2 AM. The woman he told me he never got over.
Rachel beamed at me. “Jessica! Oh my God. I can’t thank you enough. I know this must have been so hard, but… you’ve made our dream come true!”
The room started spinning.
I turned to James, barely able to speak. “You knew. You knew this whole time. And you never told me.”
His face barely moved. “It wasn’t relevant.”
I felt like I’d been punched. “Not relevant? You asked me to carry a baby for the woman you once said you still loved. And that wasn’t relevant?!”
Diane stepped forward like she was saving the day. “Sweetheart, don’t overreact. Rachel wanted a baby, and you were the perfect choice!”
“You’ve had two healthy pregnancies already. Plus,” she added casually, “Rachel wants to keep her body.”
And just like that, all the pieces fell into place.
This wasn’t about helping family. This wasn’t kindness.
It was about using me.
“Great to know I’m a good broodmare,” I snapped.
Rachel’s face went pale. “I didn’t mean—”
“Quiet!” I roared, gripping the bed as another contraction tore through me. “You’re all liars! Manipulative liars!”
James rolled his eyes. “Stop being so dramatic.”
“The baby is here,” he added coldly. “Just let it go.”
I looked away from all of them and spoke to the nurse, who was calmly adjusting my IV.
“I want a moment alone with my husband. Please.”
The nurse nodded and ushered everyone else out of the room. Once the door shut, I turned to James, and my voice was ice.
“We’re done.”
He blinked. “What?”
“This marriage. This family. You used me, James. You lied to me. Tricked me. Made me a walking incubator for her.”
He laughed—like it was no big deal. “You’re blowing this way out of proportion.”
“Am I?” I said, breathing through another wave of pain. “Then you won’t mind when I take everything I’m entitled to in the divorce.”
His face drained of color.
“Jessica—” he started, but I cut him off.
“No. You took away my choice. Now I’m taking back my life.”
I went through the rest of labor alone. Not one of them was allowed back into that room.
When the baby was born, the nurse laid her in my arms. She was beautiful, innocent. None of this was her fault.
But I looked at her and whispered, “You’re not mine to keep.”
Then I handed her back.
A few days later, I met with a lawyer. I filed for divorce. I got full custody of my two kids. I made sure James paid for everything he’d done—financially and emotionally.
He tried to apologize. Sent flowers. Left voicemails. Even showed up crying at my parents’ house.
“Please, Jessica,” he begged. “It was a mistake. I should’ve told you everything.”
I looked him dead in the eye and said, “A mistake is forgetting our anniversary. What you did was planned betrayal.”
Three months later, I sat in my lawyer’s office. She slid the final divorce papers toward me.
“He’s agreed to all terms,” she said. “The house. The accounts. Primary custody. You won, Jessica.”
I picked up the pen, signed my name, and said, “I didn’t win. I just stopped losing.”
As I walked out of the office, my phone buzzed. A text from James.
“Rachel had the baby christened yesterday. They want you to know they’re grateful.”
I deleted it without replying.
Rachel got her perfect body. Her perfect baby.
Matt got to be a dad without watching his wife go through pregnancy.
James got exactly what he deserved.
And me?
I got something even better.
My freedom.
