The fertility clinic called to inform me that my embryos were ready for transfer.

I touched my abdomen, still numb from the anesthesia of that morning's egg retrieval. Even with cutting-edge medical technology, embryos couldn't be prepared this quickly.

Before I could call back to clarify, my husband stopped me. "Mom's been pressing us hard. I pulled some strings to fast-track the process so you can get pregnant sooner. Imagine twins! My buddies will be green with envy."

Silent, I drove straight to the clinic and dialed 911 on the way. "Hello? I'm reporting a fertility clinic involved in illegal surrogacy."

...

The more I thought about it, the more it didn't add up. "An expedited process?"

As a seasoned prosecutor who'd handled countless medical disputes, I knew it took at least five days from egg retrieval to embryo formation.

I recalled my husband's words from a few days ago. "Why bring your work attitude home? Must you always be so nitpicky? It's exhausting."

Lemuel Hanson didn't understand that my meticulousness had cleared countless injustices. Once doubt took root, I had to get to the truth.

I floored the gas pedal. Twenty minutes later, I arrived at the VIP Fertility Center on the third floor of the clinic. Bypassing the crowded front desk, I approached the head nurse in charge of my case.

"I'm Brenda Hanson," I said. "I had my egg retrieval this morning."

She looked up from her computer, startled. "Mrs. Hanson? Your proxy has already finalized the transfer plan."

I froze, confused. "Proxy?"

"Dr. Ainsley Bailey came in person to confirm everything is on track," she explained.

"Ainsley Bailey?" My grip tightened on my car keys. "I never appointed a proxy."

The nurse stood up, visibly annoyed. "But your file lists Dr. Bailey as your proxy. She even contributed her own eggs for the embryo cultivation."

She clapped a hand over her mouth, realizing she'd revealed too much, and avoided my gaze.

Ainsley was doing it again. She was Lemuel's so-called best friend and the clinic's star doctor.

About to press, I caught sight of Ainsley in her white coat at the end of the hallway, walking shoulder-to-shoulder with Lemuel. She laughed and leaned into him flirtatiously, her demeanor gratingly intimate.

Her smile vanished at my stare, replaced by a nervous greeting. "Brenda? What are you doing here?"

Lemuel turned, not surprised but irritated, as if I'd intruded. He strode over, his voice low and accusatory. "What's this about? I told you to wait at home for updates."

His tone set me off, but I ignored him, locking eyes with Ainsley. My body trembled with rage. "Why are you listed as my proxy for this procedure? And why are your eggs being used with Lemuel's for embryo transfer? You'd better have a good explanation."

Her face paled, morphing into a mask of wounded innocence.

"Brenda, don't overthink this," Ainsley chimed in. "Lemuel was worried about you after the retrieval. You were so weak, and the process was complex, so he asked me to handle everything. I used my eggs as a backup to ensure success."

She glanced at Lemuel, feigning helplessness. "If you don't believe me, ask him."

Lemuel scratched his head, exasperated. "Brenda, really? Ainsley is my best friend. She saw how much pain the retrievals caused you and offered to help. This is for your benefit. If you've got a problem, talk to me. Why take it out on her?"

He sounded justified, as if his logic was airtight.

I stood frozen, staring back at the man I'd loved for three years. Whenever Ainsley was involved, he'd take her side without question.

The onlookers began whispering.

"Sounds like she can't have kids and is too proud to admit it."

"The doctor is trying to help, but she doesn't appreciate it."

"Typical rich-family drama. She is jealous of her husband's closeness to someone else."

Ignoring them, I fixed my tear-filled eyes on Ainsley. "Helping? Using your eggs with Lemuel's behind my back. That's your idea of help?"

...

I was healthy, with perfect medical stats. Doctors confirmed I had a high chance of natural conception.

It was Lemuel's mother, Julie Hanson, who insisted on IVF, hoping to get a grandson. Lemuel was equally obsessed with continuing the family line.

I'd only agreed to stop their relentless nagging. I never imagined it was a setup.

I turned to the head nurse. "I want to see all my medical records."

The nurse, regretting her slip, hesitated. "Ma'am, patient files are confidential. Besides, Mr. Hanson signed the embryo transfer proxy form on your behalf."

"I'm the patient!" I snapped. "I didn't authorize anyone. Is this how your approval process works, riddled with loopholes?"

My question left her speechless.

Ainsley, seeing the standoff, choked up dramatically. "Brenda, don't make this hard for her. It's my fault for taking this on."

She wiped her tears, glancing pitifully at Lemuel.

I glared at her, itching to tear through her act. "Fine! Destroy your embryos right now."

Regardless of the public occasion, she sobbed harder, throwing herself into Lemuel's arms. "Lemuel, let's just drop it. Destroy those embryos."

She clutched her chest, as if on the verge of fainting. Lemuel pulled her closer, raising his voice. "Ignore her. Brenda is just stressed out and overreacting. Don't take it personally."

He dismissed my protest as irrational. Bolstered by his support, Ainsley cried harder. "Lemuel is just looking out for me. They're his kids either way. Why are you so aggressive?"

Her words implied an inappropriate bond with Lemuel to everyone watching.

Rage burned in my chest. I swung my hand, slapping Ainsley. "Enough with your disgusting act!"

"You shrew!" Lemuel roared, cradling Ainsley with concern. "Are you okay? I'll get you an ice pack."

His tenderness, something I'd never experienced in three years of marriage, stung deeply.

Ainsley leaned into his arm, sobbing, "Brenda doesn't get our good intentions."

Lemuel turned, glaring at me with disappointment. "Is this necessary? I told you to stay home, and you came here to cause a scene."

He'd conveniently forgotten his flimsy expedited process excuse. I laughed coldly at his flustered rage.

He never valued my work. To him, my prosecutor's badge was meaningless. Whenever I tried sharing courtroom victories, he'd brush me off. "Alright, it's just arguing. What's there to brag about?"

His dismissal of me set the trap he'd fallen into today. I pointed at him, discreetly starting a recording on my phone.

"Lemuel, one last time," I demanded. "Are you trying to use my womb to carry Ainsley and your child?"

...

Lemuel froze briefly before doubling down, his tone arrogant. "Ainsley is my best friend. She is helping ease your burden. Why are you so narrow-minded? They're my kids either way. Instead of being grateful, you're accusing her?"

His ability to twist the truth was astounding.

"Ease my burden?" I laughed, my fury turning to clarity. "I've been injecting fertility drugs daily, canceling all social plans, and restructuring my life for this. To fulfill your dream of having a son, I drank your mom's awful concoctions for two years. You two stole my reproductive rights and blame me now?"

The whispers around us grew louder.

"Doesn't sound like just help."

"What's wrong with this guy? His wife is doing IVF for him, and he is protecting another woman."

Lemuel's face darkened. He leaned in, his voice low. "We can sort this out at home. Must you embarrass us here?"

"Embarrass us?" I shot back. "Wait and see. I'll show you real embarrassment. No one leaves until I see the original proxy form."

My resolve got under his skin. He turned to the crowd, raising his voice. "Everyone, don't misunderstand. My wife is under so immense stress from trying to conceive and is mentally unstable. This is just another episode."

The hallway fell silent. All eyes turned to me, pitying, as if I were unhinged.

"Mentally unstable?" I found it laughable.

This morning, we had been planning our future. Now, in front of Ainsley and strangers, he called me a delusional lunatic.

Ainsley peeked from behind Lemuel, her eyes gleaming with smug triumph.