Seven months pregnant with twins, my life shattered with one message. I was folding baby clothes when my phone buzzed. It was from Veronica—my husband’s boss. Strange.

I opened it, and my breath caught. There he was: my husband, Eric, shirtless in her bed, grinning like it was nothing. The message? “He’s mine now.”

I tried calling him, over and over. No answer. Hours later, he finally came home—with her. Veronica walked in like she owned the place. Eric stood beside her, calm as ever. “I’m leaving you,” he said. Just like that. No remorse. I could barely stand, heart pounding in my chest. We had two babies on the way. He shrugged. “Life happens.”

Veronica didn’t stop there. “Since this is Eric’s apartment, you’ll need to move out by the end of the week,” she said coldly. I felt cornered, helpless. No nearby family, no backup plan. Then she tilted her head and asked, “Twins, right?” Her next words chilled me: “I’ll buy you a house… in exchange for one of your babies.”

I wanted to scream, but I kept my cool. I pretended to consider it, feigning tears. “I’ll agree,” I whispered, “but I choose which baby you take.” She smiled, thinking she had won. But I had a plan. A plan they would never see coming…