much for.

Robert sat with the newspaper spread in front of him, clearing his throat every few seconds in the pompous rhythm he seemed to think passed for authority.

Victor leaned against the counter in pressed slacks and a white shirt, already dressed for the office, as calm as a man waiting for coffee rather than the man who had dragged his pregnant wife out of bed minutes earlier.

No one asked how I felt.

No one asked whether the baby had been moving.

Diane only said the eggs had better not be runny because she was tired of basic incompetence before sunrise.

I moved carefully, trying not to wince.

Grease crackled in the skillet.

The kitchen smelled like burnt coffee and lemon cleaner.

Outside, the black windows were turning gray with approaching day.

My hands shook badly enough that I cracked one shell into the bowl with part of the membrane still attached.

Then Robert spoke from behind the newspaper as if discussing stock prices.

He asked Victor whether the paperwork had been updated yet because once the baby came, they should not leave anything to emotion.

Every muscle in my body went still.

Victor answered him in the same tone.

He said he was waiting on one final signature and that after the birth everything would settle down because I would have less influence.

Diane gave a dry little laugh and added that I would probably be grateful for a supervised rest once motherhood showed me my actual limits.

I turned slowly from the stove.

I do not know what showed on my face, but Victor’s expression hardened at once.

He knew I had understood too much.

He crossed the kitchen in three long steps and stopped so close I could see the faint stubble he had missed under his jaw.

He told me, very softly, not to start acting dramatic.

I whispered that no one was taking my child.

That was the first time I ever saw panic break through his composure.

His hand closed around my upper arm.

Hard.

Hard enough to make me gasp.

The spatula slipped from my fingers and clattered to the floor.

Diane stood, but not to help me.

She hissed that I was creating a spectacle.

Robert told Victor to control his wife before neighbors heard the noise.

When I tried to pull away, Victor shoved me sideways.

My hip struck the edge of the counter with a jolt so sharp it stole my breath.

One hand flew to my stomach.

I bent over, not from humiliation this time, but from pure animal terror.

The only thought in my mind was for the baby.

Please be all right.

Please move.

Please.

Victor muttered that I was exaggerating.

Diane snapped at me to stop milking the moment.

And in that instant, crouched beside a dropped spatula while three people looked at me like I was an inconvenience, something inside me changed shape.

I was still afraid.

But I was no longer more afraid of what exposing them would cost than of what staying would cost.

I said I needed the bathroom before I got sick.

Victor hesitated.

He was watching me in a way that told me he was trying to decide whether I looked broken enough to obey or dangerous enough