My husband stood by while his mistress slapped me in a luxury hotel lobby. He had no idea his mother was about to arrive and witness everything.

I showed Eleanor the message.

She leaned closer to read it, then asked me to send it to her attorney. She gave me his number but waited while I chose whether to do it.

I sent the photograph.

“Why would Vivian tell me this?” I asked.

“She wants something from Marcus,” Eleanor said. “Or she wants you frightened. We’ll find out when we have the documents.”

A doctor came in before I could answer. She told me the baby’s heartbeat looked reassuring. She wanted to watch me longer because I had been struck and had felt repeated tightening.

I agreed.

Eleanor stepped into the hallway to call the attorney. I watched the doorway after she left. Until that afternoon, I had never worried about being alone in a room where Marcus might enter.

I called my older sister, Naomi.

She answered before the second ring.

“Emily? Are you all right?”

“I’m at the hospital. The baby’s being checked.”

She was quiet for one terrible second.

“What happened?”

I told her as much as I could. When I reached the part about Vivian, Naomi said she was coming.

“Bring Dad if he’s at your house,” I said.

“I will. I’m leaving now.”

My father lived twenty minutes away. He worked part-time at a small repair shop despite promising me every year that he would retire. When I told him Marcus and I were expecting a baby, he had brought over the wooden crib he had built for Naomi’s daughter.

I did not know how I would tell him what Marcus had done.

Eleanor returned with the attorney on speaker. His name was Mr. Shaw. He explained that the document she had received appeared to be part of an application to borrow against my mother’s house. The lender had asked Eleanor to confirm a statement about Marcus’s business income.

“I did not confirm it,” she said.

Mr. Shaw asked me whether I had authorized Marcus to sign on my behalf.

“No.”

“Have you given him power to handle your property?”

“No. He has keys to the house. That’s all.”

He said he would contact the lender, report that I disputed the signature, and ask them to stop processing the application while it was investigated. He suggested I speak to an attorney representing me alone.

“I want that,” I said.

Eleanor nodded, as if relieved I had said it.

When the call ended, I asked how much Marcus had tried to borrow.

“Six hundred and eighty thousand dollars,” Eleanor said.

I stared at her.

My mother’s house was worth more than it had been when she left it to me. I had never treated it as money waiting to be spent. I kept the rent modest because the family living there had cared for Mom during her final year.

“Why would he need that much?”

Eleanor sat back.

“His division lost two major contracts. I asked for an independent review of its accounts last month.”

“He told me business was fine.”

“He told me the same thing.”

The door opened. Marcus stood there holding a bunch of flowers from the hospital gift shop.

“Can we speak?” he asked.

I looked at the flowers, then at him.

“Eleanor, please stay.”

His face tightened. He put the flowers on a shelf.

“The lender called me,” he said. “You’ve made them think I forged your name.”

“Did you?”

“We discussed using the house for a short-term loan.”

“We discussed getting the roof fixed. We never discussed borrowing against it.”

“You said you wanted to help.”

“I did help. I used my savings to cover our bills when your business struggled.”

Marcus glanced at Eleanor. “Mom, tell her I would have paid this back.”

“I can’t promise that,” she said.

He turned to me.

“I didn’t want you stressed during the pregnancy.”

“Then why bring me to a meeting about it?”

“I thought if Mom explained the numbers, you’d understand.”

“Did she know about Vivian?”

He looked away.

I felt the baby move. I put my hand there and waited until I could speak evenly.

“Leave the room, Marcus.”

“This is my child too.”

“The doctor is monitoring us. I’ll tell you what she says through my attorney.”

He stared at me as if I had become someone he did not recognize. Then he took the flowers and left.

Naomi and Dad arrived half an hour later. Dad looked at my cheek and went straight to the chair beside my bed. He took my hand. He did not ask whether Marcus had meant for it to happen.

Naomi stood at the foot of the bed, listening while I told them about the loan.

“We’ll take care of the house,” she said.

“I don’t want either of you going near Marcus.”

“We’ll speak to your lawyer first.”

Dad squeezed my hand. “You and the baby come home with me when the doctor says you can.”

I thought of the nursery Marcus and I had painted. I did not want to sleep there.

“All right,” I said.

The doctor discharged me later that night with instructions to return if anything changed. The baby was doing well.

As Naomi gathered my things, Mr. Shaw called back. He had received another page from the lender.