“I’m sorry, Ella,” my physician said gently. “I’m afraid you have very few viable eggs remaining. Frankly, I normally see these numbers in women ten or fifteen years your senior.”

“What?” I murmured, disbelieving. I’d been trying to get pregnant for years. I’m only 30; I should have plenty of eggs left.

“In terms of fertility, you have very little time left,” she continued. “If you want to conceive, you need to do so before your next cycle begins.”

“My next cycle?” I repeated, my mouth agape. I loved children more than anything, and though it might not be everyone’s ambition, I wanted nothing more than to be a mother.

I had to get home and tell my boyfriend. There wasn’t a moment to waste.

I made it home in record time, bursting through the door and calling for Mike, but stopping dead in my tracks. A pair of high heels and a handbag—neither mine—were by the door.

I listened toward the bedroom. My stomach churned as I heard unmistakable moaning, accompanied by a rhythmic thump-thump-thump as the bed hit the wall. Worse than realizing Mike was with another woman was realizing who it was. I recognized the handbag and shoes—they belonged to my best friend, Kate.

“Fuck, Ella is so stupid,” Mike laughed. “Can you believe she actually expects me to have a baby with her?”

Kate snorted. “She’s delusional. I don’t know how you put up with her for so long.”

“If she weren’t so beautiful, I never would have given her the time of day,” Mike scoffed. “Thankfully, daily doses of Plan B kept her from ever conceiving.”

“The morning-after pill?” Kate asked. “How did you manage to give it to her without her realizing?”

“I put it in her morning coffee,” Mike chortled, sounding far too pleased with himself.

My vision blurred as everything clicked into place. Suddenly, it was clear why I’d never been able to get pregnant, despite having unprotected sex multiple times a week for years. It was also clear how I could have the egg count of a 45-year-old: my despicable partner had been secretly giving me emergency contraceptives daily—there’s no telling what other damage that might have done to my reproductive system.

Before I could think better of it, I pulled the smoke alarm, wanting to frighten and punish them so fiercely that I feared I might attack them when they emerged. Water sprayed from the sprinkler system as a shrill siren filled the air, and I heard Mike and Kate cry out.

Moments later, they rushed out of the bedroom, stopping when they saw me. Mike’s eyes widened comically. “What are you doing home so early?” The nerve of him! He seemed affronted I’d surprised him, when he was the one sneaking around. He quickly added, “Kate came to see me so we could plan a surprise for your birthday, but then we spilled coffee all over our clothes so we had to change.”

Fire blazed in my veins. He must have thought I was an idiot.

Their unbelievably low opinion of me allowed them to believe my act, and I vowed revenge. I couldn’t believe I’d wasted so many years—my best years—on this scumbag. And now he might have cost me my future, too. I knew I couldn’t waste another moment on Mike. I had more important things to take care of.

I excused myself and rushed across town, seeking comfort from my surrogate sister, Cora. We’d grown up together in an orphanage, and she’d become an OB/GYN working for the city’s most exclusive sperm bank. I’d never gone to her before because I’d imagined Mike and I would conceive naturally, but that clearly wasn’t an option.

Even if I could find a man willing to have a baby with me in time, I wasn’t eager to trust anyone after Mike’s betrayal. I’d have to do this alone, and I knew Cora could help. I didn’t have much money, but I had enough savings for insemination, especially since I essentially had one shot.

When I arrived, my plans to explain everything clearly and concisely vanished. The moment I saw Cora, I fell apart. She hugged and kissed me until my tears subsided, slowly extracting the story. When she heard about Mike and Kate, she swore a storm, but her reaction to my fertility news was worse.

“That little shit! I’ll kill him!” she fumed, studying me with worry. “Ella, if your doctor was right, this means you only have one chance to conceive.”

“I know,” I sniffled. “And if this is going to be my only baby, I don’t want to take any chances. I want the best donor we can find.”

“Don’t you worry about that,” Cora assured me. “We’ve got donations from actors, models, scientists—it’s only the crème de la crème here.” She glanced at the door and lowered her voice. “You didn’t hear it from me, but even Dominic Sinclair sent his samples here for testing.”

“Dominic Sinclair?” I repeated. “The billionaire?” I’d seen him around town, but we didn’t run in the same circles. He lived in my wealthy employer’s neighborhood and often greeted the children I nannified, but he was always surrounded by bodyguards and so intimidating that I got goosebumps just thinking about him.

“Oh my god!” Cora slapped a hand over her mouth. “I wasn’t supposed to tell you that! I don’t know what I was thinking. Apparently, he’s no stranger to fertility issues himself, and he trusted us to handle his samples over every other lab in the country. I’ve got his sperm in the other room right now.” She fretted. “But Ella, you can’t tell anyone. You have to promise me.”

“Of course!” I agreed. “I know how important confidentiality is.”

“Thank you,” Cora breathed. “Now, I’m going to give you a dossier of our clients so you can pick a donor, and once you’ve chosen, we’ll get you pregnant before you can blink.”

It wasn’t an easy decision, but eventually, I chose a handsome surgeon whose photo made me swoon. Cora left only long enough to prepare the sample, and though she looked a bit flustered when she returned, she quickly and professionally completed the insemination, holding my hand afterward. “It’s all taken care of now, Ella,” she promised. “You can come back in ten days to see if it worked.”

Ten days. I thought dazedly. Ten days to decide my entire future.

If only I’d known that by the time those ten days were up, my future would no longer belong to me—but to Dominic Sinclair himself.