At seven months pregnant with twins, my husband’s boss sent me a picture of him in her bed. Hours later, they hit me with the ultimate betrayal—he was leaving me for her. But the real shock? She wanted one of my babies in exchange for a house. They thought they had me cornered. Little did they know, I had a plan of my own.
I was folding tiny baby clothes, lost in a daydream about names, when my phone buzzed.
A message from my husband’s boss, Veronica. My stomach flipped. Why was she texting me?
I opened it, expecting some work-related issue. Instead, my world shattered.
A photo of my husband, Eric, lying in an unfamiliar bed, shirtless, smirking.
And beneath it, a message that made my blood run cold:
“It’s time you knew. He’s mine.”
My hands trembled. My heart pounded.
The twins kicked inside me—almost as if they sensed my distress.
I called Eric. Straight to voicemail. Again. And again. Nothing.
I sat down, clutching my belly.
“Easy, my loves. Mommy will always take care of you. And no matter what happens, your daddy… he won’t abandon you.”
How wrong I was.
That evening, Eric finally came home. But he wasn’t alone.
Veronica strutted in behind him like she owned the place. Tall, elegant, dressed in designer clothes that probably cost more than our rent.
“Eric… what is this?” I asked, my voice shaking.
Eric sighed, bored. “It’s simple, Lauren. I’m in love with Veronica, so I’m leaving you. Let’s be adults about this and not make a scene, okay?”
I staggered back, my swollen belly making every step feel heavier.
“We’re having twins in two months!” I whispered.
Eric shrugged. “Life happens.”
And then, the final gut punch.
Veronica crossed her arms, smirking. “Since this is Eric’s apartment, you’ll need to move out by the end of the week.”
I saw red.
“Are you insane? I have nowhere to go. I’m carrying HIS children!”
She gave a fake pout. “Twins, right? Or triplets? You do look rather… large.”
I stiffened. What was she getting at?
She spoke casually, as if discussing a business deal. “I can offer you a solution. I’ll buy you a house and cover your expenses. In return, I want one of your babies.”
My heart stopped.
“Excuse me?”
Veronica waved a manicured hand. “Look, I want a child, but I’m not ruining my body for one. You’ll never manage twins alone, so this is a win-win. I’ll raise the baby in luxury, with the best nannies and schools.”
“Our baby,” she corrected.
Like my child was some kind of high-end purchase.
And Eric? That spineless coward just nodded, as if this was reasonable.
I clenched my fists.
“You’re both disgusting.”
But I was trapped. No family. No money. No home. I needed that house, their money.
So I did the only thing I could.
I played along.
“I have nowhere else to go,” I whispered, forcing my eyes to glisten with fake tears. “I’ll agree to your deal… but I have one condition.”
Veronica smirked. “Smart girl. What is it?”
“I want to choose which baby you take.” I sniffled. “Just give me time to decide which one will have a better life with you.”
Eric and Veronica exchanged smug glances, thinking they had broken me.
“Fine,” she said. “But don’t take too long. Once they’re born, we’ll take the one you don’t want.”
I nodded, wiping away a fake tear. Step one: complete.
But I wasn’t finished.
“One more thing,” I added.
Veronica sighed. “What now?”
“You’ll buy me a house, not rent it,” I said, my voice steadier. “I need security. If you don’t agree, I’ll walk, and you’ll never see either of them.”
Veronica raised an eyebrow, then smirked. “Fine. But you’d better hold up your end of the deal.”
Oh, don’t worry, Veronica. I will.
Just not the way you expect.
For the next few months, I played the game.
Veronica bought me a house—a beautiful three-bedroom in a quiet neighborhood. She and Eric didn’t even bother looking at the contract. Too busy celebrating their “win.”
I let them think I was grateful.
I let Veronica visit, touching my belly, cooing over “her” baby.
I played the part while I planned my final move.
Labor hit on a Tuesday night.
I texted Veronica from the hospital, then made sure the nurses knew: No Eric. No Veronica.
I heard them arguing in the hallway, but I didn’t care. This was my moment.
Six hours later, my two perfect baby girls were born.
Lily and Emma. My daughters. Not theirs.
On day three, I made the call.
“I’m ready to talk.”
Veronica and Eric showed up within an hour.
She was practically glowing with excitement.
“So,” she cooed, stepping into my house. “Which one is mine?”
I took a deep breath, held my babies close.
“Neither.”
Her smile froze.
“Excuse me?”
I stood up slowly. My body ached, but my voice? Steady.
“I’m not giving you my child, Veronica. Either of them.”
Eric groaned. “Oh, don’t start this dramatic nonsense—”
“You really thought you could buy a baby from me?” I scoffed. “Like I was some desperate idiot?”
Veronica’s face darkened. “Then I’m kicking you out of this house!”
I smirked.
“You can’t.”
She blinked. “What? Eric, tell her!”
Eric looked confused. “We signed the papers together!”
“Yeah. And you both signed the house over to me completely. My name is the only one on the deed.”
Veronica stumbled back.
“You conniving little—”
“Oh, and one more thing,” I added, grinning.
“I told a few people about this situation. Social media, the press, your investors. Check your phone.”
Veronica grabbed her phone. Her face drained of color.
Eric, pale as a ghost, muttered, “You… you ruined us.”
“No,” I said, rocking my babies. “You ruined yourselves.”
Eric lost his job. Veronica? Fired. Humiliated. Exposed.
And me?
I rocked my daughters to sleep every night in our beautiful, peaceful home.
Content. Safe. And victorious.
Because I didn’t just get revenge.
I won.