He Chose A Fake Heir Over His True Wife

My husband studied the fertility report on his desk with the same cold precision he used to order executions.

On our fifth anniversary, he didn't give me diamonds. He checked his Rolex and delivered the sentence that ended my life.

"Your genetic profile is defective, Catarina."

He didn't just ask for a divorce. He pressed a button on his intercom, and a woman walked in. She was loud, chewing gum, and wearing a dress that was too tight.

"This is Aria," Alex said, his voice flat. "She is a vessel. She will carry the heir your body cannot produce."