Think your family’s wild? Wait till you hear about mine.
I’ve been with my husband Harry for nearly fifteen years, married for seven, and we have two amazing kids. But his mom, Charlotte, and his sister, Candice? A whole different story.
I had a weird gut feeling the first time I met them, but I brushed it off—until Candice threw a tantrum because I didn’t choose her as maid of honor and had the nerve to wear a prettier dress.
The real chaos started before her 30th birthday. Candice, who never cared much for our kids, suddenly acted like the perfect aunt. Then over dinner, she dropped a bomb: she wanted us to give her a baby—as a birthday gift.
She wasn’t joking.
She insisted we were perfect candidates because we already had kids and she didn’t have a husband. Charlotte backed her up, even going so far as to poke holes in our condoms “to help.”
They truly believed we should hand over our child to Candice—because she bought baby clothes and dreamed of nursery themes.
So, I faked a pregnancy. For nine months, I played along. On Candice’s birthday, in front of the entire family, I handed her a baby carrier wrapped in a bow.
Inside? A doll.
Candice lost it. Charlotte was furious. And just when it couldn’t get worse—Grace, Harry’s grandmother, stood up and disowned them both on the spot.
Now that’s what I call karma.
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