I Carried The Wrong Sperm
His voice stopped me, and I looked at him.
“Good morning.”
He stared at me for a few seconds before reaching into his pocket. He pulled out a black card and slid it across the table toward me, and I stared at it in confusion.
“The client is supposed to give the surrogate a monthly allowance.”
He leaned back in his chair.
“If you'd read through the contract thoroughly, you'd have seen that.”
There it was again. Another insult disguised as a statement. I pursed my lips.
“Thank you, Mr. Morgan.”