Chapter 3

I was still parked near our house when I opened the account we'd named BABY FUND. We'd opened the account before painting the nursery. I put part of my writing income into it each month, and Graham added money from his coaching bonuses. It was for delivery, the car seat, and the weeks I'd need off work. At the start of that week, the balance had been more than eighteen thousand dollars. Now it was $42.18. I refreshed the screen. The number didn't change. Beneath it sat one transfer. $18,400 — TESSA REED. Rent and deposit. I thought of the car seat we hadn't collected and the hospital bag beside me. That account had been the one thing I didn't worry about. I called Graham. “Ellie, I'm about to teach.” Water splashed behind him. “Did you send Tessa eighteen thousand four hundred dollars?” A pause. “Her landlord needed a deposit and several months up front. She's waiting for her divorce settlement.” “She slept in our nursery last night.” “Her lease doesn't start until next week.” “So you paid for an apartment she can't move into and gave her our son's room in the meantime.” “It's temporary. She'll pay us back.” “You took it from the baby fund.” “From an account we both contribute to.” I stared at the forty-two dollars on the screen. “I'm thirty-five weeks pregnant, Graham. You know I've been having pains. That money was for the birth.” “You have your own card.” “That doesn't make it okay.” “I'll replace it after the gala. There's a bonus.” “How much?” “What?” “Your bonus. How much will you get?” He hesitated. “Five thousand. Maybe a little more.” “You gave her eighteen thousand four hundred.” “Don't make this sound like I stole from you. Tessa's been through hell. I was trying to help.” “You knew I would say no.” “Yes, Elena. I did. That's why I didn't ask. I didn't want us fighting about her again.” The bluntness of it silenced me. He hadn't forgotten to tell me. He had decided I didn't deserve a say. A hard pain tightened from my back around my stomach. I pressed my forehead against the steering wheel and breathed until I could speak again. “Are you listening?” he asked. “Yes.” “Look, the reception starts at five. I'll give my speech, we'll figure out the money, and I'll come home.” “You promised you'd be at my appointment at two.” “Is that today?” I closed my eyes. His answer came before I could give him one. “I can't leave the club twice. Ask the doctor to send me the results.” It wasn't the first time I'd been alone at an appointment. It was the first time I realized he expected our son's arrival to fit around his calendar. “Go to your ceremony,” I said. “Ellie, don't be dramatic.” I ended the call. My hands shook as I sent the transfer record to Maya. I redirected my next writing payment to my personal account, then called maternity triage about the pains. The nurse asked how far apart they were and whether I'd noticed any fluid or bleeding. I told her what I knew. She advised me to come in for assessment and not to drive myself if the contractions were intensifying. I texted Maya: The hospital wants me checked. Can you take me? She called immediately. “I'm leaving now. Stay where you are. I'll come to the car.” Another contraction came, harder and closer than the last. I gripped the wheel and tried to count through it. Then a warm rush soaked my dress and the driver's seat. For one stunned second I couldn't move. My water had broken. I called triage again. The nurse told me to remain parked while Maya arranged an ambulance. The dispatcher asked for my location. I gave it, then bent over as another contraction seized my back. I tried to tell her I was thirty-five weeks pregnant. The next contraction hit before I could finish the sentence.