Chapter 1

The flight from Dubai back to Pittsburgh was fourteen hours long. I didn't sleep a minute. All I could think about was seeing my wife, Jenny. A year is a long time. I spent it overseeing the biggest project of our small firm's life, a skyscraper that put us on the map. I did it for us, for our future.

I walked through the arrivals gate at Pittsburgh International, scanning the crowd for her face. I saw her standing near the baggage claim, a soft smile on her lips. But my own smile froze.

Something was wrong.

Her coat was unbuttoned, and beneath it, her body had a curve it didn't have when I left. It was a round, firm swell that you couldn't mistake for anything else.

She was pregnant. At least five months along.

The blood drained from my face. I walked towards her, my carry-on bag suddenly feeling like it was filled with lead.

"Brian," she said, her voice a little too bright.

"Jenny," I managed to say, my voice hoarse. "What is this?"

Her smile faltered. Tears welled up in her eyes instantly, as if she had been practicing this moment.

"Brian, we need to talk."

We drove home in a silence so heavy it felt like I couldn't breathe. The city I grew up in, the city I chose over a life of immense wealth in New York, felt alien. Our house, the one we bought with the first big check from our firm, felt like a stranger's.

Inside, she finally broke down.

"It's Wes's," she sobbed, sinking onto the sofa.

Wes. Her childhood friend. The guy who was always hanging around, the one she always felt she owed something to.

"What?" The word came out like a shard of glass.

"He has a low sperm count, Brian. The doctors said it was almost impossible for him. This was his only chance to have a child."

I stared at her, unable to process the logic. It wasn't logic. It was madness.

"His only chance? What about us, Jenny? What about our marriage?"

"This doesn't have to change anything!" she pleaded, reaching for my hand. I pulled it away. "We can raise the baby together. It's a sacrifice, yes, but think of it as me finally repaying my debt to him. He saved my life once. Now we can save his legacy. Our marriage will look perfect, even stronger."

I looked at the woman I loved, the woman I had built a life with, and I didn't recognize her. She wasn't talking about a betrayal. She was talking about a business transaction, a debt repayment that used my life, our marriage, as currency.

The perfect marriage image. That' s what mattered to her. Not the truth. Not me.