Chapter 1

1 I threw myself a birthday bash, ready to drink champagne and dance the night away, but then Justin Foster waltzed in with some nobody, introducing her as a clueless intern.

Clueless, my ass. She spilled wine on my custom-made dress, helped herself to my diamond necklace.

But all Justin could say was, "Cut her some slack, she's just a kid."

And then she "accidentally" ended up in Justin's bed, got knocked up and had the audacity to kneel before me, cradling her baby bump, all while saying, "Mrs. Foster, Justin said since you can't have kids, I'll do it for you..."

That's when I gave Justin the coldest look I've ever given anyone and laid down the law: "Either she gets an abortion, or we get a divorce."

Justin looked at me, all guilt and puppy-dog eyes. "You know the old man, he insists that only a Foster heir can inherit everything."

"But your uterus is too damaged. Ashley's baby will be adopted by you… Willow, I just love you so damn much!"

Later, when Justin was beaming like a moron as the new baby was welcomed into the Foster family, he had the nerve to tell me, "Just play nice, Willow. My grandfather just wants to meet them. It won't change your place."

I nodded, all smiles, no tears.

As soon as he was gone, I dialed up his rival's phone.

"I'm in. Who cares who gets to be a mom without the pain, as long as I win?"

...

Justin strode in, cradling that baby like it was the Hope Diamond, followed by Ashley and his grandpa, Mr. Foster.

The kid was tiny, all wrapped up in a blanket embroidered with gold thread.

Justin stared down at the infant in his arms, his eyes soft in a way I hadn't seen directed at me in ages.

"Willow," he said, looking up, his voice flat, like he was announcing some minor inconvenience, "the baby will be staying here from now on."

My heart twisted, but I couldn't find the words to say what I was feeling.

Three months ago, he was begging me on his knees not to leave him, promising that once Ashley had the baby, he'd ship her off to a branch office. That it wouldn't change our lives.

But now, he was marching them right into our freaking bedroom, like he owned the place.

Whatever faith I had left crumbled into dust.

Ashley stood behind Mr. Foster, looking at me with a fake, doe-eyed expression.

Still playing the innocent, like always. Acting like she didn't know how to greet the lady of the house.

I wanted to puke.

I turned to go upstairs, but then she had the gall to call out to me, her voice dripping with crocodile tears: "Willow, I know you hate me, but the baby's innocent... please, be kind to him."

Justin frowned.

He stepped in front of her, his tone scolding: "Willow, you're scaring Ashley."

I just laughed. How was I the villain just for standing there?

Mr. Foster hobbled over, leaning on his cane.

He patted the baby's cheek, smiling all warm and fuzzy: "This kid's the spitting image of Justin when he was little. He's definitely a Foster."

Then he turned to me, and his eyes turned to ice: "You can't give us an heir. We can't let the Foster line die out, now can we?"

I looked down, digging my nails into my palms, trying to stop myself from screaming.

Justin finally glanced at me, his voice softening a fraction: "Willow, the baby needs breast milk. Once he's weaned... I'll make arrangements for Ashley to move out!"

I almost choked.

He was acting like he was doing me some kind of favor when he was the one who had promised all this crap in the first place.

I was about to tell him to shove it, when Ashley butted in: "Justin, look, the baby seems hungry..."

Justin immediately turned his attention back to her, cradling the baby's head, cooing in a low voice.

And I was left standing there, feeling like a stranger in my own home.