I Sterilized Myself for Him, Then Found His Twins - Chapter 2: Chapter 2
You are reading I Sterilized Myself for Him, Then Found His Twins, Chapter 2: Chapter 2. Read more chapters of I Sterilized Myself for Him, Then Found His Twins.
"Are you sure you can handle this? Not wanting kids and not being able to have them—those are two very different things."
"No matter what you decide, I've got your back."
Brent hesitated.
I'd made him a promise years ago: if he ever stopped being afraid—if he truly wanted a child—I'd go under the knife again so we could have our own baby.
And he'd agreed.
Ten years ago, his parents suddenly backed off. No more eye rolls from his mother. No more forced medications. They retired to London, leaving the family villa to us.
I'd thought they'd finally let it go.
Turns out, the Ceppetellis already had their heirs. Twins, no less.
That's when I realized Brent's "business trips" to London weren't for work. He'd been with Shalane Shepley—and their kids.
I forced down the lump in my throat, ignoring the vise around my chest.
"Do you even know the difference between responsibility and love, Brent? Or do you just think I'm pathetic? Some kind of fool?"
Guilt flickered across his face.
"I'm sorry, Cammie. I never wanted you to go through surgery—I just… I wanted to know what it felt like to be a father."
His voice dropped, defensive. "Shalane and the kids don't interfere with our lives. I've done my duty by her, and if you're willing, they'll respect you—like a mother."
A cold laugh escaped me.
"So my husband cheats, and I'm supposed to be grateful for instant kids who'll play dutiful stepchildren? Otherwise, I die alone and miserable?"
Brent shifted uncomfortably, his tone edging toward irritation.
"Jesus, why do you have to twist it like that? It wasn't cheating! It happened once," he muttered. "And it was for—"
He couldn't even finish. Instead, he shooed everyone out of the room.
"Camryn, I know you're hurt, but try to understand. I'm forty-two. I didn't want regrets."
His voice softened, almost pleading. "If you love me, you'll accept them. Shalane handles everything—you won't lift a finger. Isn't that a win?"
I stared at him until my voice finally clawed its way out, raw.
"And if I don't?"
He sighed. "I'll give you time. But Shalane and the kids… I'm not walking away."
A pause. "Next week's Dad's 70th. They'll be there. Once you meet them, you'll—"
The door clicked shut behind him.
Alone, I unlocked my phone and opened the investigator's file. Thousands of photos. Brent at every OB-GYN visit, ultrasounds, births. Birthday parties, first steps. A stock transfer agreement.
Twenty years of marriage. All those "international trips"? Just him playing house.
And I'd believed him.
Each happy-family snapshot felt like a razor slicing my corneas.
I'd given up everything for Brent. Stood by him through every crisis. Built the woman behind his success.
And in the end? I was a stranger in his life.
Numb, I dialed a number.
"Take the northwest expansion deal. And find me a shark of a divorce lawyer."
At the birthday party, Shalane floated in wearing couture, skin dewy with privilege. Her whisper sent my in-laws into giddy laughter.
The twins—miniature aristocrats in navy suits—looked like they'd stepped out of a catalog. Regina fawned over them, summoning Michelin-star pastries like they might starve.
"No matter what you decide, I've got your back."
Brent hesitated.
I'd made him a promise years ago: if he ever stopped being afraid—if he truly wanted a child—I'd go under the knife again so we could have our own baby.
And he'd agreed.
Ten years ago, his parents suddenly backed off. No more eye rolls from his mother. No more forced medications. They retired to London, leaving the family villa to us.
I'd thought they'd finally let it go.
Turns out, the Ceppetellis already had their heirs. Twins, no less.
That's when I realized Brent's "business trips" to London weren't for work. He'd been with Shalane Shepley—and their kids.
I forced down the lump in my throat, ignoring the vise around my chest.
"Do you even know the difference between responsibility and love, Brent? Or do you just think I'm pathetic? Some kind of fool?"
Guilt flickered across his face.
"I'm sorry, Cammie. I never wanted you to go through surgery—I just… I wanted to know what it felt like to be a father."
His voice dropped, defensive. "Shalane and the kids don't interfere with our lives. I've done my duty by her, and if you're willing, they'll respect you—like a mother."
A cold laugh escaped me.
"So my husband cheats, and I'm supposed to be grateful for instant kids who'll play dutiful stepchildren? Otherwise, I die alone and miserable?"
Brent shifted uncomfortably, his tone edging toward irritation.
"Jesus, why do you have to twist it like that? It wasn't cheating! It happened once," he muttered. "And it was for—"
He couldn't even finish. Instead, he shooed everyone out of the room.
"Camryn, I know you're hurt, but try to understand. I'm forty-two. I didn't want regrets."
His voice softened, almost pleading. "If you love me, you'll accept them. Shalane handles everything—you won't lift a finger. Isn't that a win?"
I stared at him until my voice finally clawed its way out, raw.
"And if I don't?"
He sighed. "I'll give you time. But Shalane and the kids… I'm not walking away."
A pause. "Next week's Dad's 70th. They'll be there. Once you meet them, you'll—"
The door clicked shut behind him.
Alone, I unlocked my phone and opened the investigator's file. Thousands of photos. Brent at every OB-GYN visit, ultrasounds, births. Birthday parties, first steps. A stock transfer agreement.
Twenty years of marriage. All those "international trips"? Just him playing house.
And I'd believed him.
Each happy-family snapshot felt like a razor slicing my corneas.
I'd given up everything for Brent. Stood by him through every crisis. Built the woman behind his success.
And in the end? I was a stranger in his life.
Numb, I dialed a number.
"Take the northwest expansion deal. And find me a shark of a divorce lawyer."
At the birthday party, Shalane floated in wearing couture, skin dewy with privilege. Her whisper sent my in-laws into giddy laughter.
The twins—miniature aristocrats in navy suits—looked like they'd stepped out of a catalog. Regina fawned over them, summoning Michelin-star pastries like they might starve.
End of I Sterilized Myself for Him, Then Found His Twins Chapter 2. Continue reading Chapter 3 or return to I Sterilized Myself for Him, Then Found His Twins book page.