phone, turned on location sharing with him, and handed it back.

“If anything ever feels wrong and you cannot talk, send me one word,” he said.

“Just one.

I’ll come.”

I laughed then because I wanted him to stop looking at me like that.

The word we picked was not clever.

It was just HELP.

The day before Ethan attacked me, my doctor warned me that my pregnancy was no longer as simple as it had been.

My blood pressure was high.

I was having more pain than I admitted.

She told me to rest, eat regularly, and avoid stress as much as possible.

I almost laughed in her office.

That night Carolyn complained that I was using pregnancy as a personality.

Richard said women in his generation worked until the day they delivered.

Ethan said almost nothing, which was worse.

When Ethan went quiet, it usually meant he was saving something for later.

I had not eaten since late afternoon because every smell in the kitchen turned my stomach and Carolyn acted like making myself toast was a personal insult.

I remember lying in bed before dawn with one hand on my stomach, feeling the baby move, and promising in the dark that I would figure a way out.

At 5:03 a.m., the bedroom door exploded open so hard it slammed into the wall.

For one stupid, disoriented second, I thought a stranger had come into the house.

Then I saw my husband standing in the doorway, chest heaving, the hall light behind him making him look bigger than he was.

“Get up, you useless cow,” he shouted, yanking the blanket off me.

Cold air hit my skin.

“My parents are downstairs waiting for breakfast.”

I tried to push myself upright and a sharp pain sliced through my hips.

“Please,” I whispered.

“I’m hurting.

I can barely walk.”

He laughed.

It was such an ugly sound that my fear turned to ice.

“Women have babies every day,” he said.

“Stop acting spoiled and move.”

I got out of bed because I knew what happened when I did not move fast enough.

Every step down the stairs sent pain up my back.

I held the railing with one hand and my stomach with the other.

Ethan walked behind me close enough that I could feel his anger like heat.

His family was already seated in the kitchen.

Carolyn had a cup of coffee in both hands and a pleased little smile on her face.

Richard was scrolling through his phone.

Madison was holding hers up at chest level, camera aimed straight at me.

“Oh my God,” she said, laughing.

“Look at her waddling around like a dying penguin.”

Carolyn did not even try to hide her contempt.

“Pregnancy has made her completely useless.

Slow.

Clumsy.

Honestly, Ethan, you’ve been too soft with her.”

He folded his arms and nodded like a boy being praised.

“You’re right, Mom.

Eggs, bacon, pancakes.

And don’t mess it up this time.”

My hands were shaking so badly I could barely open the refrigerator.

Grease hit the pan.

The smell rolled up into my face.

The room tilted.

I remember thinking, Not now.

Please not now.

Then my knees slammed into the kitchen floor.

Pain exploded through my leg.

Instinct made both my hands fly