The biological failure in our marriage had never been me. It was Michael.

I stared at him. The silence stretched until his defensive posture cracked into real discomfort. The man who used to hold me through thunderstorms, whispering that as long as we had each other our family was complete, was now standing as a barricade in front of his mistress and a baby he wrongly believed was his.

“How long have you been orchestrating this, Diane?” I asked, my voice dropping to a calm whisper.

She crossed her arms. “Since the second she missed her cycle. Let’s speak frankly, Sarah. Since you can’t do a woman’s basic duty, you’d better learn your place.

Michael is my only son. The family name will not die out.”

Khloe, sensing her cue, let a single tear roll down. “Sarah — I’m so sorry. I never meant to take him. I was just so empty. Tom is gone and I’m drowning in loneliness.