My Husband’s Family Asked Me to Be a Surrogate
but I Had No Idea Who the Baby Was Really For
I always knew James’s family loved drama, but I never expected to star in their twisted saga. At a “family meeting” at his mom Diane’s, I was ambushed. Matt, James’s brother, announced his engagement to a wildlife photographer in Ethiopia who couldn’t carry children. They asked me to be their surrogate. Despite never meeting her, I agreed, pressured by James’s talk of college funds and renovations.
The pregnancy was grueling—sickness, swelling, sleeplessness. Matt checked in, but his fiancée was a ghost. My suspicions grew. In labor, James left to answer a call, returning with Rachel—his ex, the baby’s mother. I was betrayed. They’d manipulated me into carrying her child, citing my “perfect” health and her desire to keep her figure.
Furious, I ended things with James. “We’re done. I’m taking everything—house, retirement, custody.” He scoffed, but I was resolute. After delivering the baby, I handed them over, severing my obligation. I filed for divorce, secured custody, and reclaimed my life. James begged, but I was unmoved. “This was your choice. Now I’m making mine.”
Three months later, divorce finalized, I walked free. A message from James about Rachel and the baby’s christening? Deleted. I didn’t win—I just stopped losing.