Chapter 2

The conversation continued, each word a hammer blow against the ruins of my life.

"What about the eggs?" Joseph asked. "You' re sure they all took?"

"The clinic was top-notch," Matthew replied, his tone full of pride. "One from Elyse, one from Molly' s donor source, one from Madisyn' s anonymous donation that I… facilitated. And of course, Debra' s, which her parents had kept cryopreserved. The difficult part was convincing Gabrielle her own eggs were no longer viable. A few years of the right 'supplements' took care of that."

My mind flashed back to the vitamins Matthew had insisted I take, the ones he brought me every morning with a glass of water and a kiss.

He hadn' t been caring for me. He had been poisoning my chances, ensuring I would be desperate enough for this.

"She' s so naive," Matthew said, and I could hear the smirk in his voice. "She believes this is God' s miracle."

The men laughed again, a low, cruel sound that echoed the hollowness inside me. I felt the babies move, a flutter of limbs against my skin. It used to feel like a promise. Now it felt like a violation. Each kick was a reminder that I was carrying the secrets and schemes of the man I loved. I was a walking, breathing deception.

I felt a wave of nausea so strong I had to grip the bench to keep from collapsing. The world swam before my eyes. I was carrying his mistress' s child. His sister' s child. His childhood friend' s child. And the child of his dead fiancée.

I was a broodmare for his twisted promises.

I remembered them all. Elyse Fuller, the new choir director, young and beautiful, always looking at Matthew with a light in her eyes I had mistaken for admiration.

Madisyn Chadwick, our old friend, now a single missionary, her letters always full of a quiet sadness and a desperate longing for a family.

And Molly, Matthew' s wild sister, who always joked about wanting a baby to trap her rich boyfriend but complained that pregnancy would ruin her figure.

And Debra. His sainted, deceased ex. Giving her parents a grandchild wasn't an act of compassion. It was a strategic move to cement his power, to make him untouchable.

The pain in my heart was a physical thing, a crushing weight that made it hard to breathe.

I felt like a fool. The biggest fool in the entire state of Utah. My faith, my love, my endurance-it was all just a tool for his grand design.