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 looked at David. My husband. The father of my child.

“David?” I pleaded.

David took a sip of wine. He didn’t look at me. He looked at the wall.

“Listen to my mother, Anna,” he said indifferently. “She knows best. Don’t make a scene in front of Mark. Go to the kitchen.”

A sharp pain ripped through my lower abdomen. It wasn’t hunger. It was a cramp. A very strong one.

I gasped, clutching my stomach. “David… something’s wrong. It hurts.”

“Move!” Sylvia shouted, pointing toward the kitchen door.

I turned. I stumbled. The world tilted.

Chapter 2: The Fatal Push

I tried to walk. I really did. But the pain in my stomach was like a white-hot iron twisting inside me.

I stopped near the kitchen island, gripping the granite countertop to keep from falling.

“I said move!” Sylvia screamed behind me.

She had followed me into the kitchen. Her face was twisted with pure, horrible rage. She couldn’t stand disobedience. She couldn’t stand that I had challenged her authority by trying to sit.