"Damaged goods," mom whispered loudly at my sister's baby shower. "too broken to ever have children." thirty guests stared at me with pity. i smiled and checked my watch. the door opened. maria—my nanny—walked in carrying my two-year-old triplets. behind her, my husband, dr. alexander cross, chief of neurosurgery, held our newborn twins. mom dropped her teacup when my husband announced... Pastel balloons floated against my sister Victoria’s ceiling while I stood by the refreshments, acting like