Chapter 1

I carried results from my ninth-month checkup, only to find my twin sister wearing my hospital gown, lying in my husband's arms, with my name on her wrist tag.

Liam Carter had switched us.

Nine months ago, Liam married me for one reason: the Carter family needed an heir, and I was the only woman whose blood type matched the high-risk surrogacy protocol his dying mother had demanded.

A contract. Twelve months. Five million dollars.

But now my twin sister Naomi was curled against him on the private hospital bed, her belly flat, her smile sharp as a blade, while my swollen stomach tightened with a contraction I couldn't ignore.

"Oh, you're here." Naomi tilted her head, her fingers lazily tracing Liam's jaw. "We were just discussing the birth plan. My birth plan."

Liam didn't even look at me. His hand rested on Naomi's stomach—her empty stomach—as if she were the one carrying his child.

"Close the door on your way out, Vivian," he said. "The doctor's coming for Naomi's check-up."

I stood frozen in the doorway, ultrasound photos clutched in my trembling hand—photos showing his son, our son, the baby currently kicking against my ribs.

"Liam, I'm the one who's pregnant. You know that."

He finally turned, his gaze ice-cold and impatient, the same look he'd give a stranger who'd overstayed their welcome.

"Naomi will be listed as the mother on the birth certificate. That was always the arrangement."

No. That was never the arrangement.

I opened my mouth to argue, but another contraction seized me, sharper this time, and I gripped the doorframe to stay upright.

Naomi noticed. Her smile widened.

"You look terrible," she said sweetly. "Maybe you should rest. Carrying a baby must be so exhausting for someone your size."

We were identical twins. Same face. Same body. The only difference was that she had learned, long before I did, how to weaponize her softness.

I looked down at the ultrasound. My son's profile, perfect and clear, stared back at me.

Then I looked at Liam—the man who had promised, in writing, that I would have full custody if the marriage ended.

The contract was buried in a safe in his study. The same study he had locked me out of three months ago, right around the time Naomi moved into our home.

"Liam," I said, my voice low and steady despite the pain radiating through my body, "I need to access the study."

His expression darkened. "What for?"

"Our contract. I want to review the custody clause."

The room went still. Naomi's smile faltered for the first time, a crack in her porcelain mask.

Liam rose from the bed, his towering frame closing the distance between us in two strides. He leaned down, his voice a quiet threat.

"There is no custody clause, Vivian. Because there is no your baby. The child belongs to the Carter family. And the Carter family has decided that Naomi is its mother."

My blood ran cold.

"You changed the contract."

He didn't deny it. He didn't even blink.

Behind him, Naomi placed a hand on her flat stomach and smiled the kind of smile that told me she had won something I didn't even know we were fighting over.

I stepped back, my hand instinctively cradling my belly, shielding the life inside me from the two people who wanted to erase me from his existence.

One month. I had one month before my due date.

One month to find the original contract, secure my rights, and disappear before they could take my son.

I turned and walked away, and for the first time in nine months, I didn't look back at Liam Carter.

But I heard Naomi's voice, light and musical, drifting through the closing door.

"She'll come around. They always do."