Chapter 1
"Starting tomorrow, we split everything fifty-fifty," David said, tapping his fork against the rim of his plate.
The clink rang out sharp and jarring in the quiet of the dining room.
Charlotte Lane, seven months pregnant, stopped with her fork halfway to her mouth. She looked up at David Clark, her husband of three years.
Karen Clark, David's mother, set a piece of roast chicken onto David's plate without a word. Frank Clark, David's father, kept his head down and cut another piece of steak, chewing in silence.
Charlotte heard her own voice ask, "What do you mean, fifty-fifty?"
"All of it. The mortgage, the bills, the groceries, everything. We split it right down the middle," David said, as if he were explaining something perfectly reasonable.
"You have not been working these past few months because of the pregnancy, so it is time to start using your savings to cover your share."
Charlotte felt her belly tighten. She set down her fork and pressed a hand to the side of her stomach.
The baby kicked.
"I am seven months pregnant," she said.
"So? It is not as though I forced you to have this baby," David muttered, still cutting his food. "Besides, the child belongs to both of us, so why should I be the only one paying for everything?"
Charlotte looked at her in-laws.
Karen kept her head down and took a slow sip of her wine.
Frank wiped a crumb from the edge of the table and said nothing at all.
*****
Charlotte couldn't help but laugh.
Three years ago, they got married, and she'd left her job at the design institute and moved here with David.
Before getting pregnant, she worked as a designer at a small company. Her salary wasn't much, but she gave every dollar to him. She never once asked what David made.
And now he wants to go Dutch.
"All right then," Charlotte said. She picked up her fork and finished the last few bites of pasta on her plate. "Since we are splitting everything from now on, I will tally up exactly what I ate tonight and pay you for it."
She stood up.
"Where are you going?" David asked.
"I'm going to the bedroom to tally things up," Charlotte replied.
She turned and walked into the bedroom, closing the door behind her.
Leaning against the door, she touched the small silver pendant that hung at her throat. It was the only thing she had kept from the orphanage where she had grown up. On the back, nearly worn smooth, was the faint engraving of a name. Lane.
She had never known her real parents, and the couple who had adopted her had never made her feel like more than a guest in their house. She had believed that marrying David would change that.
Her phone buzzed.
It was a message from her best friend, Emily Sutton.
Emily: [Charlotte, your husband was at a coffeehouse with Grace Ford today. I took pictures. Want to see them?]
Charlotte opened the photos.
In the first, David was sitting in a corner with a young woman, his hand resting on hers between two cups of coffee.
In the second photo, David had his arm around her waist as they left the coffeehouse together.
Charlotte locked her phone.
The baby kicked again.
She didn't cry.
She opened her banking app and checked her balance. She had 10,800 dollars. That was all the money she had.
She closed the banking app and opened her submission inbox. Three months ago, she'd sent in a set of jewelry designs anonymously for the Starlight Design Award. Still no word.
She locked her phone and lay down on the bed.
There was a crack in the ceiling, stretching from the corner of the room all the way to the light fixture.
She stared at the crack, realizing that she would have to go to the hospital for the prenatal checkup alone the next day.