Vivian
The door slammed behind me with a sound like fate sealing shut. My hands shook so badly I dropped my Hermès bag, spilling its contents across Italian marble. Lipsticks rolled like fallen soldiers. The crumpled check I'd written to Emma mocked me from the floor.
"Janet!" I called for my assistant, then remembered I'd sent her away. I couldn't let anyone see me like this. Not now. Not when everything was unraveling.
The crystal decanter beckoned from my bar cart. One glass. Two. The whiskey burned going down, but not enough to chase away the truth that echoed in my head: Emma Bennett. The surrogate. The mother of my children.
No. Not my children. Never really mine.
I caught my reflection in the window - mascara smeared, designer dress wrinkled. Outside, New York glittered like no
