Switched

My feet moved on their own, carrying me down the hallway lined with wedding photos and to the door of the bedroom I'd shared with my husband for three years. I opened it.

Derek, in his suit, sat in the leather armchair by the window where he liked to read business journals while I got ready for bed. Claire straddled him, her dress hiked up around her waist, riding him.

They were too consumed with each other to notice me.

"God, I'm so glad this is almost over," Claire panted. "Hiding from her was exhausting."

"Soon," Derek groaned, his hands gripping her hips.

"She drank the juice without even questioning it," Claire said. "God, she's so easily deceived."

"That's what I love about her," Derek replied. Then he laughed. "Loved. Past tense."

“I… can't… wait to get our… beautiful twins from her. Before she figures out we switched the eggs… the babies will be ours."

The world stopped after I heard those words.

The eggs... switched?

"Vivian deserves this. Walking around like she's better than everyone, with her perfect hair and her perfect manners and her perfect life."

It was them. All of it. The setup, the photographs, everything.

And my babies...

My hands flew to my belly. No, that can't be. They are mine. They are mine!

That's when I screamed, but it came out as something between a sob and a scream.

They froze and turned. Claire's eyes widened, while Derek's face paled.

"Vivian," Derek said. "This isn't what it looks like."

I laughed. It sounded hysterical even to my own ears.

"Really? Because it looks like you're sleeping with my best friend in our bedroom, while I'm pregnant with what I thought were our children."

Claire dismounted casually, fixing her dress. No shame, just a cold smirk.

"Well," she said, "I guess we don't have to pretend anymore."

Derek stood, tucking himself back into his pants. "Vivian, sit down. We need to talk."

"Talk?" My voice rose. "You want to TALK?"

"Don't be dramatic-"

"Dramatic? You switched the eggs! My babies-" I clutch my stomach, "-they're not even mine?"

"Technically, they're mine and Derek's," Claire spoke so casually while examining her nails. "You're just the incubator."

I lunged at her. I didn't care that I was pregnant, didn't care about anything except scratching that smug expression off her face.

How dare she refer to me as an incubator?

Derek caught me, his hands like iron on my arms.

"Stop it. You're going to hurt yourself."

"Let me go!"

"Not until you calm down and listen."

"I'm leaving." I tried to pull away. "I'm leaving and I'm taking my babies-"

"Where?" Derek's voice went cold now. "Where will you go, Vivian? You have no job, and your grandfather disowned you this morning. I'm all you have left."

"I'd rather die than stay here with you!"

"Dramatic as always." He forced me toward the bed. "Sit down. Now."

"No! I'm leaving-"

I bolted for the door but Claire grabbed the back of my dress, yanking me backward. I was off balance, pregnant and clumsy. Then I stumbled. My head hit the edge of the dresser. Pain exploded across my temple.

The last thing I heard was Claire saying, "Is she dead?”

The last thing I saw was Derek's face hovering over me, his expression not concerned, but calculating.

Then everywhere went dark.