It all started when James, my husband of eight years, asked me to join him for a "family meeting" with his mother, Diane, and his younger brother, Matt.

I remember rolling my eyes as we drove to Diane's house. There was always some kind of drama brewing in James's family.

"What is it this time?" I asked James. "Did your mom find another scratch on her precious china and decide I'm to blame?"

James kept his eyes on the road. "It's something important, Jess. Just hear them out, okay?"

When we arrived, Diane greeted me with her typical stiff hug and guided me to her living room. Matt nodded awkwardly from the armchair.

"Jessica," Diane began, her voice taking on that syrupy tone she used when asking for favors. "We have something very special to ask you."

I glanced at James, who was studying his hands.

Matt cleared his throat.

"Jessica," Matt said, his voice wavering slightly. "I'm engaged."

"Congratulations," I replied, genuinely happy for him. "When do we get to meet her?"

Matt and Diane exchanged a look.

"Uh… I'm not sure. She's a wildlife photographer," Matt explained.

"She's in the Ethiopian Highlands right now, trying to get footage of Ethiopian wolves in the wild," he added. "And the cell phone signal is awful in the mountains."

"The thing is," Diane said, leaning forward, "my future daughter-in-law has some health issues. She desperately wants children, but she can't carry them herself."

I felt a creeping dread as three pairs of eyes focused intently on me.

"We were hoping," Matt said, "that you might consider being a surrogate for us."

The request hung in the air. I looked at James, expecting him to be as shocked as I was, but his expression told me he'd known all along.

"You want me to carry your baby?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.

"Think about what it would mean to Matt," James said, squeezing my hand. "And the compensation would help us and our kids so much. We can add a sizeable contribution to both of their college funds and do some of those kitchen renovations you've been wanting."

"But your brother's fiancée..." I started. "Shouldn't I at least talk to her first? This is a huge decision."

"She's completely on board," Matt assured me quickly. "We did the IVF before she left and had the embryos frozen. All we need is a surrogate."

"But I haven't even met her."

"She'll be back in the States soon," Diane said, patting my knee. "You two will get along splendidly, I'm sure."

I felt trapped, surrounded by expectant faces.

James knew exactly what buttons to push: our children's future, our home improvements, things he knew mattered to me.

Despite the nagging feeling in my gut, I nodded slowly. "I'll do it."

The next nine months were a blur of doctor appointments and growing discomfort.

Each trimester brought new challenges: morning sickness that lasted all day, swollen ankles, and backaches that kept me up at night.

Through it all, James remained supportive in his own way, rubbing my feet while reminding me how the money would change our lives.

Yet something felt off.

Matt visited regularly, bringing vitamins and checking on the baby.

But his fiancée remained a mystery.

"Has Matt's fiancée called yet?" I asked James one night as we lay in bed, my enormous belly preventing me from finding a comfortable position.

"She's still traveling," James mumbled, already half-asleep.

"For nine months? Without a single phone call to the woman carrying her child?"

James sighed and rolled over. "You're stressing yourself out for nothing, Jess. It's not good for the baby."

"The baby," I whispered to myself. "Not me."

As my due date approached, my unease grew.

I tried calling Matt directly.

"When is your fiancée coming back? I'd really like to meet her before the birth."

"Soon," he promised. "She's still in Ethiopia, trying to get pictures of some incredibly rare bird in the Nechisar Plains."

I sighed. It seemed this woman was as impossible to pin down as the animals she photographed.

The day I went into labor, James drove me to the hospital while I clutched the dashboard, pain ripping through my abdomen.

At the hospital, James held my hand through the initial examination.

Matt and Diane arrived shortly after. They rushed into the room, but I threw up my hand.

"Out, both of you," I ordered them through clenched teeth. "This is too personal."

"Six centimeters," the nurse announced. "Moving right along."

A few minutes later, James's phone chimed. He pulled his hand from mine and checked the message.

"I'll be right back," he said, stepping out of the room. "Matt's fiancée is here."

He returned moments later with a gorgeous woman.

I recognized her instantly.

"Rachel?" The name escaped my lips like a curse.

Rachel was James's high school sweetheart. The woman whose name I'd banned from our house after finding James drunkenly scrolling through her social media one night, six years into our marriage.

After he admitted he'd never really gotten over her.

"Jessica!" Rachel's face lit up with genuine joy. "I can't thank you enough. I know how hard this must have been, but you made our dream come true!"

The room spun around me.

I turned to James, my voice trembling with rage. "You knew exactly who she was all along. And you never told me."

James's expression barely flickered. "It wasn't relevant."

"Wasn't relevant?" I repeated, incredulous. "You asked me to carry a child for the woman you told me you never got over, and that wasn't relevant?"

Diane stepped forward, her voice placating. "Sweetheart, don't overreact. Rachel wanted a baby, and you were the perfect choice!"

"You've successfully carried two children already without complications. Besides, she wants to keep her body."

The pieces clicked into place with sickening clarity.

This wasn't about helping family. This was about convenience. About keeping Rachel's perfect body intact while using mine as an incubator.

"Great to know I'm a good broodmare," I snapped.

Rachel's face flushed with guilt. "I didn't mean—"

"Quiet!" I roared as the pain of another contraction rippled through me. "Liars. Manipulative little—"

"Stop being so dramatic." James sighed.

"Jessica, it's done," he continued. "The baby is here. Just let it go."

I exhaled slowly, trying to steady myself despite the contractions coming faster now.

I turned to the nurse who was checking my vitals, deliberately avoiding eye contact with the family that had betrayed me.

"I need a moment alone with my husband."

Rachel and Diane hesitated, but the nurse quickly ushered everyone but James from the room. The second the door clicked shut, I fixed James with a cold stare.

"We're done."

James blinked, confused. "What?"

"This marriage. Us. You tricked me into being an incubator for that witch. You disrespected me for the last time."

James laughed, actually laughed. "You're blowing this way out of proportion."

"Am I? Then you won't mind if I take everything I'm legally entitled to in the divorce."

The color drained from James's face as the implications sank in.

We had built a comfortable life together. Our house was nearly paid off, and we had retirement accounts and college funds for our children. All of it was subject to division.

"Jessica—" he started, suddenly panicked.

"No," I interrupted, voice firm despite another contraction ripping through me. "You took away my choice. Now I'm taking back my life."

I still had to endure the final stage of labor.

I went through it alone, not wanting any traitors in the room with me as I pushed through seemingly endless pain.

The nurse placed the baby in my arms for a brief moment.

I looked down at the tiny face, so innocent despite the circumstances of its arrival.

But then I handed the child back to the nurse. "This baby isn't mine to keep."

Within the week, I had met with a lawyer.

I filed for divorce, secured full custody of my children, and made sure James felt the full weight of what he'd done.

James tried to make amends, sending flowers, leaving tearful voicemails, and even showing up at my parents' house where I was staying with the kids.

"Please, Jessica," he begged. "It was a mistake. I should have told you."

"A mistake?" I replied calmly. "A mistake is forgetting an anniversary. This was a calculated betrayal."

Three months later, I sat across from my lawyer as 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 signed my name with steady hands. "I didn't win anything. I just stopped losing."

As I walked out of the office, my phone buzzed with a text from James: "Rachel had the baby christened yesterday. They want you to know they're grateful."

I deleted the message without responding and stepped into the crisp fall air.

Rachel got her perfect body and her perfect baby. Matt got his family without having to watch his wife go through pregnancy.

James got exactly what he deserved.

And me?