Too Late, Mr. Golden Boy

Six years, four rounds of IVF, and a mountain of debt were the price for two pink lines, a baby Andrew proudly proclaimed was our heir.

He even bought out an entire floor of Manhattan's most exclusive maternity hospital to celebrate, cementing his image as the perfect #HusbandGoals.

But a knot of dread formed as anonymous emails arrived, hinting at "designer babies" and asking, "Is it really your baby, Molly?"

A secret prenatal test confirmed the worst: the baby I carried wasn't biologically mine.