Chapter 2: The Family Legacy

My family has a hereditary super-fertile streak.

My grandma had eight sons and two daughters. Back then, she managed to eat a local landowner’s family into bankruptcy.

My mom had boy-girl twins. She wanted more, but circumstances didn't allow it, so she had to stop after one round, full of regret.

After two generations of experience, my mom gave me endless reminders.

Grandma’s old photos show her surrounded by a horde of kids—boys in overalls, girls with pigtails—lined up on a sagging front porch somewhere outside Tulsa. She claimed the grocer started hiding when she walked in. And Mom always jokes that if Dad had been richer, she’d have started her own basketball team.

When looking for a partner, find someone handsome and from a solid family background. After all, our fertility isn’t easy to manage. Twins are considered underachieving. Triplets are average. Occasionally popping out quadruplets or quintuplets isn’t even surprising. Pick a good-looking partner, so the kids will be cute and you’ll enjoy raising them. Pick someone with a strong family background, so the kids have security. After all, Grandma’s lesson still stands—don’t accidentally eat a family into bankruptcy.

I kept all this in mind. So I always stayed single.

I’d see classmates go off to spring formal, or post engagement pics from the beach, and I’d think: Could they really handle a family like ours? I wanted no part of bankrupting a boyfriend’s 401k before I turned thirty.

Until a few days ago, when the Bennett family—the richest in the state—posted a recruitment notice:

[High salary, sincerely seeking a daughter-in-law. Three million for a boy, two million for a girl. Just give birth—the Bennett family can afford it.]

Applicants flocked in droves. On a whim, I signed up too. I passed every round, made it to the finals, and took first place.

The interviews were wild—one lady wore a prom dress and heels, another handed out business cards. There was even a PowerPoint presentation about her family tree. I just showed up in jeans and answered honestly. Apparently, that did the trick.

When I got the offer, I excitedly called my mom.

"Mom, we might be about to get rich!"

She listened to the whole story and gasped.

"Good heavens, take it easy—don’t bankrupt them!"

She made me swear, hand on heart, not to buy a yacht or gold-plated stroller.