His Mistress Moved Into My Bed, I Moved Into a Billionaire's Life.

On our fifth anniversary, my husband handed me sliced apples and told me his mistress was seven months pregnant with his "son." He wanted me to raise the baby. He called me selfish when I hesitated. What Grayson doesn't know? He's been sterile since the day we married. Our twin girls aren't his. That mistress's baby isn't his. And the fertility report I've hidden for five years is about to blow his whole world apart. He wants a son so badly? Fine. Let him watch me walk out with his daughters, his dignity, and a billionaire pediatrician who actually knows how to love us.