Wives at War
My best friend and I married the Luther brothers.
I married the older brother, a legendary specialist in childbirth.
My best friend, Autumn, married the younger brother, the CEO of a pharmaceutical company.
On my birthday, my husband’s crush, Kirsty, scared me into early labor by sending me the carcass of a rotten, dead cat. Autumn rushed me to the emergency room.
The doctors had their hands tied as I went into premature labor with a case of amniotic fluid embolism.
With the last of my strength, I turned to my husband for help.
Instead, I was berated. “So I missed your birthday. Do you have to make a big deal out of it? Why are you lying to me? Kirsty’s pet dog is having puppies. I need to help with the birth, so stop getting in the way!”
Later, Autumn took charge and operated on me. I managed to pull through, while my baby was rushed to the ICU.
Autumn tearfully called her husband, pleading for the specific medication produced by his company.
“Kirsty’s dog is struggling in labor. I’m making a nutritious meal for it. You sure are good friends with Bella to take turns stirring up a fuss. Don’t you have anything better to do than act out in jealousy?”
In the end, I lost my child. My heart shattered into pieces.
“I want a divorce, Autumn.”
“I’m with you! The cheating bastards don’t deserve wives.”
We filed for divorce, and the brothers panicked.
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