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"Mr. Ravenscroft, your wife's here." The words cut through the video call like a knife. I froze. I am Henry Ravenscroft's wife. And I'm sitting at home. On the other end of the screen, the door to Henry's study swung open. A woman stepped in. She was heavily pregnant. Easily seven months along. Two hundred people on the call, and you could hear a pin drop. I couldn't look away from the screen. Henry panicked. He lunged to turn off his camera, but hit the wrong button—his feed blew up to full screen. In that moment, every single person saw her face clearly. Including me.