I never told my in-laws that I am the daughter of the Chief Justice of the Supreme Court. When I was seven months pregnant, they forced me to cook the entire Christmas dinner alone. My mother-in-law even made me eat standing up in the kitchen, claiming it was ‘good for the baby.’ When I tried to sit down, she pushed me so hard I began to miscarry. I reached for my phone to call the police, but my husband snatched it away and mocked me: ‘I’m a lawyer. You won’t win.’ I looked him straight in the eyes and said calmly: ‘Then call my father.’ He laughed as he dialed, unaware that his legal career was about to end.”

I had been cooking since 5:00 a.m. for my in-laws’ Christmas dinner. But when I asked to sit down because of the back pain from my seventh month of pregnancy, my mother-in-law, Sylvia, slammed her hand on the table.

“Servants don’t sit with the family,” she spat. “Eat in the kitchen, standing up, after we’re done. Know your place!”

David, my husband, just took a sip of wine indifferently.

“Listen to my mother, Anna. Don’t embarrass me in front of my colleagues.”

A sudden cramp made me stagger.

“David… it hurts…”

Sylvia followed me into the kitchen, her face twisted with rage.

“Pretending again to avoid work?”

She pushed me with both hands.

I fell backward, my lower back slamming against the granite island. A burning pain shot through my belly. Bright red blood began spreading across the white tiles.

“My baby…” I whispered in horror.

David came running in, saw the blood, and frowned.