The Surrogate Mother's Revenge

Ten years ago, my husband Billy Dawes talked me into getting a hysterectomy so we could live a carefree, childless life together. I gave up my chance to ever have children for him—and I never regretted it.

Not until the day he walked through the door with two adopted twins and asked me to raise them as my own.

I said yes. And from that moment on, I poured my heart into those kids as if they were my flesh and blood. I changed every diaper, packed every lunch, and stayed up through every fever. Eighteen years later, they got into Princeton and Yale. I was so proud I could've burst.

At their college send-off party, Billy handed me a document—an asset transfer agreement. He wanted me to sign everything over to the twins.

I didn't hesitate. But just as I reached for the pen, my mom grabbed my arm, her face tight with worry. "Crystal, you don't even know where those kids came from. Are you really giving them everything? At least keep something for yourself."

"It's fine, Mom," I said gently. "Everything's going to be okay."

But she crumpled to her knees, begging me not to be so blind. When my dad saw her crying and realized I was still going through with it, he stormed over, slapped me across the face, and roared, "You're a disgrace to this family!"

I signed anyway.

Billy's face lit up with smug satisfaction. Then, without a shred of shame, he turned and draped his arm around another woman's waist. She stepped forward, smirking, and tossed a divorce agreement at me.

"Thanks for taking care of Billy and the kids all these years," she said. "But it's time for you to step aside. Our family needs to be whole again."

I looked her dead in the eye, my voice steady.

"Fine."

Eighteen years ago, Billy had looked me in the eye and sworn we'd never have kids. I believed him so completely that I let them cut me open and take my uterus. No children. No regrets. All for him.

Then one day, he came home with two brown-skinned, giggling twins—a boy and a girl—wrapped in mismatched blankets, grinning at me like I was their whole world. They couldn't have been more than a few months old.

"I adopted them," Billy said. "From a shelter. They need a mom, Crystal. Will you take care of them?"

I didn't even pause.

From that day on, I was their mother in every way that counted. I nursed them through fevers, mended their scraped knees, cheered at their school plays, and kissed their foreheads every night. I loved them fiercely.

And now? One was headed to Princeton. The other to Yale. My heart swelled with pride.

At their farewell party, Billy slid a document toward me. "Crystal, it's time to transfer everything to the kids. Let's give them a strong start."

I didn't read it. I just reached for the pen.

But my mom grabbed my wrist, her eyes wild. "Honey, do you even know where they came from? You're handing them everything. Keep something for yourself!"

I smiled. "It's okay, Mom. I trust my choices."

She dropped to her knees, sobbing. "Please, Crystal. Don't do this."

My dad stormed in, took one look at the scene, and lost it. He slapped me hard. "You're a disgrace to the Oldford name!"

I signed anyway.

Billy's grin was triumphant. Then, right there in front of everyone, he strolled across the room and pulled another woman close.

She was polished, sharp-eyed, with a smirk that said she'd already won. She flicked the divorce papers at me like confetti.

"Thanks for babysitting Billy and the kids all these years," she said. "But it's time for you to go. Our family needs to be complete."

I stared at her, perfectly calm.

"Okay."

Inside, my world was crumbling.