Jensen

My husband, Bennett, and I were New York's golden couple. But our perfect marriage was a lie, childless because of a rare genetic condition he claimed would kill any woman who carried his baby. When his dying father demanded an heir, Bennett proposed a solution: a surrogate.

The woman he chose, Aria, was a younger, more vibrant version of me. Suddenly, Bennett was always busy, supporting her through "difficult IVF cycles." He missed my birthday. He forgot our anniversary.

I tried to believe him, until I overheard him at a party. He confessed to his friends that his love for me was a "deep connection," but with Aria, it was "fire" and "exhilarating."

He was planning a secret wedding with her in Lake Como, at the same villa he'd promised me for our anniversary.

He was giving her a wedding, a family, a life—all the things he denied me, using a lie about a deadly genetic condition as his excuse. The betrayal was so complete it felt like a physical shock.

When he came home that night, lying about a business trip, I smiled and played the part of the loving wife.

He didn't know I'd heard everything.

He didn't know that while he was planning his new life, I was already planning my escape.

And he certainly didn't know I had just made a call to a service that specialized in one thing: making people disappear.

Chapter 1

Kelsey Jensen and Bennett Randolph were the couple everyone in New York envied. They had everything: a sprawling penthouse overlooking Central Park, a name that opened any door, and a love story that started in prep school. They looked perfect. But behind the closed doors of their minimalist, art-filled home, there was a void. A silence. They had no children.

It wasn't for lack of trying on Kelsey's part. It was Bennett's refusal. His mother had died giving birth to him. A rare, hereditary genetic condition, he called it. A ticking time bomb he claimed to carry, one that made any pregnancy a death sentence for the woman he loved.

"I can't lose you, Kels," he would say, his voice strained, his hand gripping hers tightly. "I won't."

And for years, Kelsey had accepted it. She loved him enough to sacrifice her own deep-seated desire for a family. She poured her maternal instincts into her work as an art curator, nurturing artists and their creations.

Then came the ultimatum.

Bennett' s father, the formidable patriarch of the Randolph business empire, was dying. From his hospital bed, surrounded by the scent of antiseptic and old money, he delivered his final command.

"I need an heir, Bennett. The Randolph line doesn't end with you. Get it done, or the company goes to your cousin."

The pressure changed everything. That night, Bennett came to Kelsey with a proposal.

"A surrogate," he said, his voice carefully neutral. "It's the only way."

Kelsey, who had long given up hope, felt a flicker of it ignite. "A surrogate? Really?"

"Yes," he confirmed. "A purely clinical arrangement. Our embryo, her womb. You'd be the mother in every way that matters. We just bypass the risk to you."

He assured her he would handle everything. A week later, he introduced her to Aria Diaz.

The resemblance was immediate and unsettling. Aria had the same dark, wavy hair as Kelsey, the same high cheekbones, the same shade of emerald green in her eyes. She was younger, maybe a decade younger, with a raw, unpolished beauty that was a stark contrast to Kelsey' s sophisticated grace.

"She's perfect, isn't she?" Bennett said, a strange light in his eyes. "The agency said her profile was an excellent match."

Aria was quiet, almost timid. She kept her eyes down, murmuring her responses. She seemed overwhelmed by the opulence of their apartment, by them.

"This is a purely business arrangement, Kelsey," Bennett whispered to her later that night, pulling her close. "She is just a vessel. A means to an end. You and I, we're the parents. This is for us."

Kelsey looked at her husband, the man she had loved for more than half her life, and she chose to believe him. She had to. It was the only way to get the family she had always dreamed of.

But the lies started almost immediately.

The "IVF cycles" required Bennett to be at the clinic. He started missing dinners, then entire evenings.

"Just supporting Aria," he'd say, texting late into the night. "The hormones are making her emotional. The doctors said it's important for the surrogate to feel secure."

Kelsey tried to be understanding. She cooked meals and sent them with Bennett. She bought soft blankets and comfortable clothes for Aria, trying to bridge the sterile gap of the arrangement.

Her birthday arrived. Bennett had promised a weekend in the Hamptons, just the two of them. He canceled at the last minute.

"Aria's having a bad reaction to the medication," he said over the phone, his voice rushed. "I have to be here. I'm so sorry, Kels. I'll make it up to you."

She spent her birthday alone, eating a single slice of cake from the bakery, the silence of the penthouse deafening.

Their anniversary was worse. He didn't even call. A text message appeared after midnight.

Emergency at the clinic. Don't wait up.

Kelsey found herself making excuses for him, both to her friends and to herself. It's for the baby. It's a stressful process. He's just as invested as I am. She clung to the explanations like a lifeline, refusing to see the truth that was fraying the edges of her perfect life.

The breaking point was a cold, rainy Tuesday. A taxi ran a red light and slammed into the side of her car. The impact was jarring, a violent shudder that left her dizzy and shaking. Her first instinct was to call Bennett.

The phone rang and rang, then clicked to voicemail.