Off The Record

My Husband Made Me A Surrogate For His Boss Just To Get A Promotion — But His Real Plan Was Far More Cruel

Published on November 9, 2025

I believed that I was giving up something for the future of our family when my husband persuaded me to carry his boss’s child. The fact that I was being used as a pawn in a plot to destroy all I valued was unknown to me.

I never thought I would be narrating this tale. I would have labeled someone crazy if they had told me five years ago that the man I loved would use my body as leverage. I wasn’t his partner, though. I served as a springboard for him.

When it all began, Doug and I had been married for seven years. Ethan, our kid, had recently turned five. We were making ends meet, but money was tight. Doug, who was constantly looking for the next promotion, worked for a huge marketing agency downtown. To be present for Ethan, I worked from home as a freelance graphic designer.

Monica, his employer, was a completely different story. Designer stuff, early 40s, the type of woman who could make you feel insignificant with a single look. She called me “sweetheart” in a way that made my skin crawl.

Doug had an anxious and excited expression on his face the night he brought his amazing idea home.

His briefcase was dropped by the door, and he remarked, “Baby, I need to talk to you about something.”

I was assisting Ethan with his dinosaur puzzle when I looked up. “What’s up?”

“Monica’s going through something really personal right now. She can’t have kids. Some medical thing. And she’s looking for a surrogate.” He was sitting next to me. “She asked me today if I knew anyone responsible. Someone trustworthy. I immediately thought of… you.”

On the puzzle, my hands froze. “What?”

“Just hear me out before you say no.”

“Doug, are you serious right now? You want me to have your boss’s baby?”

“It’s only nine months, Rachel. And she’d pay us really well. We could finally be able to pay off the house. Start Ethan’s college fund.” He grasped my arm. “Think about what this could mean for us. And Monica told me point blank that if this works out, I’m next in line for senior director. That’s a $60K raise.”

“So this is about your promotion.”

“It’s about our future. Ethan’s future. You’re already an amazing mom. And it’s not like it would even be your baby to worry about after.”

“I need to think.”

However, he prevented me from thinking. Not at all.

It was unrelenting for the following three weeks. Every night after Ethan went to bed, every morning over coffee.

“Do you really want Ethan growing up in this cramped house?”

“You’re being selfish. This could change everything for us.”

That final one really got to me. Selfish. It was a fragment of a word.

One afternoon, my mother dropped in. I told her everything after I broke down.

She said, “What does your gut say?”

“My gut tells me it’s wrong. But my brain keeps thinking about all the things we could do with that money.”

“Money isn’t everything, sweetheart.”

“Easy to say when you’re not drowning in bills, Mom.”

I regret not listening to her.

I said yes to Doug two days later. His expression of utter relief ought to have been my first clue.

His words, “You won’t regret this,” “I promise.”

When someone makes a promise with no real intention, it’s cheap.

Everything happened quickly. Lawyers, contracts, and health examinations. At Monica’s workplace, we met.

Monica hardly gave me a glance as she stated, “I want to be clear about expectations. This is a business arrangement. I’m paying for a service, and I expect professionalism.”

“Of course,” responded Doug hastily. Too soon.

I felt emotional and queasy from the hormone treatments. Monica’s involvement soon increased as the pregnancy became apparent.

“What did you eat for breakfast? I don’t want you to have too much sugar.”

She would unexpectedly drop off organic groceries at our place.

“I don’t want you eating junk. The baby needs proper nutrition.”

She forced me to completely stop working as a freelancer.

“Stress isn’t good for the baby. You need to focus on staying healthy.”

It was always about the baby. Never about me. I was only the ship.

It was fantastic, Doug thought. “See? She really cares.”

However, I thought I was vanishing.

I began to notice Doug’s alterations around the fourth month. Nearly every night he worked late. had a fresh cologne scent. His clothing had makeup stains when they were returned from the dry cleaner.

I held out a blouse one night and asked, “What’s this?”

He hardly gave it a look. “Probably from the office party. You know how Monica is.”

“Monica wears red lipstick. This is pink.”

“You’re being paranoid. The hormones are making you imagine things. You need to relax. Stress isn’t good for the baby, remember?”

Once more, there it was. The infant. The baby is always the one. Never me.

I was really worn out. I had swollen feet. My back hurt all the time. My mother visited more frequently to assist with Ethan.

She inquired, “Are you taking care of yourself?”

“I’m fine, Mom.”

“You don’t look fine.”

“Just a few more months. Then it’ll all be worth it.”

If only that had been the case.

It was delivered brutally. Worked for eighteen hours. The majority of Doug’s time was spent in the corner using his phone.

Monica was the first to hold the gorgeous little girl with dark hair when she was born. She didn’t give me a glance.

“She’s perfect. Absolutely perfect.”

I was tired, bleeding, and sewed up. Doug approached and gave me a shoulder squeeze.

“You did it, babe. It’s finally over.”

Weakly, I said, “Can I at least hold her for a minute?”

Monica jerked her head up. “I don’t think that’s a good idea. We don’t want you getting attached. You did your part. That’s what matters.”

The nurse gave me a pitying look, but she remained silent.

Monica brought the baby home three days later. Doug picked up the check, and I signed the last documents.

“See? It wasn’t so bad, right? We’re set, Rachel.”

I remained silent as I gazed out the window. I had a broken inside.

A Tuesday was the day the check cleared. I was cleared to have my postpartum checkup by Thursday. The house felt strange and uncannily quiet when I returned home that afternoon with my mother and son.

I yelled, “Doug?” “Doug, you home?”

Nothing.

I went into the house. He had lost his garments. His shoes, his laptop, everything.

One piece of paper with the words that would haunt me was sitting on the kitchen table:

“You’ll be fine. You have Ethan. I’ve moved on. Don’t try to contact me. The money from Monica was my compensation for seven years of going nowhere. Consider it closure. Goodbye, Rachel.”

Ethan ran after me as I fell to the ground and let out a loud scream.

“Mommy? Mommy, what’s wrong?”

In a panic, my mother asked, “Rachel, what happened?”

I took my son in my arms and clung to him as if he were the only living creature left. After reading the note, my mother was too appalled to say anything.

I attempted to call Doug. blocked. I then called Monica. blocked.

The company’s human resources department was unable to assist and rejected my request. “That sounds like a personal matter for the police. We can’t get involved.”

According to the police, he hadn’t taken anything because his name was on the account.

“But he left me with nothing. I have a five-year-old son.”

“File for divorce and child support, ma’am.”

I didn’t have any money saved. The hospital bills were mounting. There was nothing in our joint account.

I sobbed as I called my mother. She gave us permission to live with her. We took sanctuary in the modest abode.

The hardest year of my life was the one that followed. I had two jobs: cashiering during the day and cleaning office buildings at night. My former customers have moved on.

I was constantly worn out. I couldn’t let Ethan see me in a broken state, though.

While I worked, my mother kept an eye on him. She would cover me with a blanket when I fell asleep on the couch at midnight.

“You’re doing so well, sweetheart. I’m so proud of you.”

I began rebuilding slowly. I was hired as an administrative assistant at a small marketing company after eighteen months. It had regular hours and benefits, but it wasn’t much.

I was able to breathe for the first time since everything collapsed.

I came across a job posting three years after Doug’s departure. Administrative Coordinator for one of Monica’s firm’s main rivals. It brought in $60K annually.

The operations director, a man named Daniel, was interviewed.

“Your resume is interesting. You’ve got this gap here, then you’re working two jobs. What happened?”

I had the option to lie. However, I had had enough of hiding.

“I made a really bad decision to help my ex-husband’s career. It cost me everything. But I’m here now, and I work harder than anyone you’ll interview because I know what it’s like to have nothing.”

He reclined. “You’ve got grit. That’s worth more than experience. You’re hired!”

In fact, I shed a tear in the parking lot.

I was elevated to project coordinator within a year. It was a good deal. Ethan was doing well.

They were present when I entered a conference room for a partnership meeting on a Monday morning.

Doug and Monica.

They had a horrible appearance. Monica seemed exhausted and gaunt. Doug’s clothing was creased and his hair was thinning.

At first, they didn’t recognize me. My hair would be cut. reduced weight. began dressing as though they were well-organized.

I said, “Good morning,” and put down my notebook. “I’m Rachel, project coordinator. I’ll be taking notes for today’s briefing.”

Doug’s cheeks turned pale. Monica’s mouth tightened.

I clicked my pen with a nice smile. “Shall we begin?”

For them, the meeting was agonizing. I had already assessed their plan and discovered numerous warning signs.

Calmly, I stated, “I have some concerns about the financial projections.” “These numbers don’t quite add up.”

Doug attempted to cut him off. “If I could just explain…”

“I’m not finished. We’ll need full transparency on your allocation of funds before we can move forward.”

Monica jumped right in. “Our books are completely clean.”

Daniel stated, “Then you won’t mind a third-party audit,” “Standard procedure.”

I felt nothing at all as I saw the color fade from her face.

Their business collapsed in the ensuing weeks. The audit found widespread misappropriation of business funds. Hundreds of thousands of dollars have been taken out by Monica for “personal medical expenses.”

Detective Williams was a female detective. One afternoon, she gave me a call.

“Ms. Rachel? I’m investigating financial improprieties at Monica’s firm. Your name came up. Did you serve as a surrogate for her approximately four years ago?”

I felt sick to my stomach. “Yes.”

“We believe the funds used to pay for that surrogacy were embezzled. I need to ask you some questions.”

We had coffee together. She was thorough but nice.

“During your time as a surrogate, did you notice anything unusual about the relationship between Monica and your ex-husband?”

“I’m not sure what you’re talking about, Detective Williams.”

She gave a nod. “We’ve found evidence of an affair dating back at least five years. Text messages, hotel receipts, and emails. It appears they planned the surrogacy together specifically to use you. She couldn’t carry a child herself due to medical issues, and they saw an opportunity.”

It felt as though time had stopped. “What?”

“Your ex-husband was promised a promotion and financial kickbacks. The baby’s paternity test shows it’s biologically his, by the way. Not from a donor, like the contract stated.”

I was having trouble breathing. “He’s the father?”

“We believe that was the plan all along. I’m sorry.”

To have their child together, they had taken advantage of me. Even though Doug knew it was his baby with his mistress, he had persuaded me to carry his boss’s child. I had acted as a surrogate for the child of my own husband’s infidelity.

I threw up before I had even reached the bathroom.

Monica was taken into custody on charges of fraud and embezzlement. When the police arrived at her home, they discovered Doug there, broke and jobless. He had been working for her as her “assistant,” but he had also been stealing. debts from gambling. He had completely depleted her finances.

In the end, they were both charged.

A few days after the arrests, I gave Detective Williams a call. There was one question that kept coming to me.

“What happens to the little girl?” I inquired. “The baby I carried.”

At the other end, there was a pause. “Sophie’s been placed in a children’s shelter temporarily. With both parents facing prison time, the state had to intervene. They’re looking for a proper foster placement for her now.”

“A shelter? She’s only four years old.”

“I know. It’s not ideal, but it’s temporary until they can find the right family. She’s been through a lot.”

I couldn’t get the picture of that little baby I’d delivered four years ago out of my head after hanging up. She now paid for her parents’ transgressions as a young child in a shelter, feeling terrified and alone.

A hole appeared in my chest. For nine months, I had been carrying her. I had sensed her kick. She had come into the world because of me. She had no one now.

I gave Child Protective Services a call. I had to make a number of transfers before I got to the appropriate department.

“This is Mrs. Chen with foster care services. How can I help you?”

I trembled when I spoke. “My name’s Rachel. I was a surrogate four years ago for a woman who was recently arrested. I gave birth to a little girl named Sophie, and I understand she’s in the system now. I’d like to inquire about fostering her.”

A pause occurred. “You’re the birth surrogate?”

“Yes, Detective Williams told me she’s in a shelter. I can’t stop thinking about her. I have a stable home, a good job, and a son who’d love a sister. What do I need to do?”

“Well, there’s a process. Background checks, home visits, and evaluations. But given your connection to the child and your circumstances, I think we should definitely explore this. Can you come in for an initial meeting?”

Maybe three seconds passed while I considered it. “When?”

Months passed during the process. The idea of having a sister made Ethan very happy.

Sophie’s large brown eyes gazed up at me when I first met her at the foster home.

“Hi Sophie. I’m Rachel.”

Her head was cocked. “You look familiar.”

In my chest, something broke. “Maybe we’ve met before.”

Three months later, she returned home. After four months, she glanced at me over her cereal while we were eating breakfast.

“Can I call you Mom?”

I broke down in tears at the table. Ethan ran over.

“Nothing’s wrong, baby. Absolutely nothing.”

I gathered them both into my embrace and clung to them.

Two years have passed. Sophie’s academic performance is outstanding. Fourth grade is Ethan’s year. There is a lot of laughter in our home now that my mom moved in with us last year.

I’ve changed since I consented to serve as a surrogate. That woman was apprehensive and afraid. I am no longer she.

My career is something I created on my own. My two children chose me just as much as I chose them.

Doug sent me a note last week. He is currently on parole. He desires to meet.

I only read the first paragraph before throwing it away.

Yesterday, Sophie asked me what a surrogate was.

“It’s when someone carries a baby for another person who can’t,” I explained to her.

“Did you ever do that?”

I grinned as I gazed at her lovely face. “Once. And it turned out to be the best thing I ever did, even though it nearly broke me.”

“How come?”

“Because it brought me to where I needed to be. To right here. To you and Ethan and this life.”

She gave me a strong hug. “I’m glad you found us.”

“Me too, baby. Me too.”

People will sometimes take advantage of you. They ruin the life you have created. Furthermore, karma can sometimes take years to manifest. When it does, though, it does more than simply knock them down. It raises you above what they could ever do.

The repercussions of their avarice are being felt by those who took advantage of me. And me? I have a career I’m proud of, a future that is all mine, and my children here in a loving home.

I didn’t receive retribution. I didn’t have to.

I simply lived, made it through, and created something lovely out of the ashes my spouse left behind.

And truthfully? The beI believed that I was giving up something for the future of our family when my husband persuaded me to carry his boss’s child. The fact that I was being used as a pawn in a plot to destroy all I valued was unknown to me.