Chapter 1

My wife lost her income when she got pregnant.

But she still controlled every cent of my salary.

I was driving her home from a prenatal checkup.

Out of nowhere she asked,

"Have you been hiding money from me?"

"No."

Without a flicker on her face, she pulled out a bill. Three thousand spent at a karaoke bar.

"We're still five grand short for the delivery. Roy Mason, what exactly are you playing at?"

I clicked my tongue.

"My money. I spend it however I want."

"That's marital property!"

Her eyes went red. "What gives you the right to do this?"

I stopped the car on the highway.

I unbuckled her seatbelt.

Then I reached over and shoved her out onto the highway, cars streaking past in both directions.

"Sara Manning, do you get it? You're the only one in this family who doesn't contribute a thing."

She stood frozen, both hands cradling her belly.

"You want to talk about who has no right? It's you."

"My money, my house,"

"and the passenger seat of my car. You have no right to any of it."

"Roy… what are you saying?"

Sara stared at me, dazed.

I kept both hands on the wheel.

"You said I had no right, remember?

Then let's find out what your life looks like without me."

…

"You're joking, Roy. Tell me you're joking."

Sara took a step forward.

I'd already shut the door first.

She stood outside the window, staring at me.

Every trace of her earlier edge was gone, replaced by shock and confusion.

So it turned out that even someone like Sara, a real high-flier at work.

She had a fragile side too.

Something oddly satisfying stirred in me.

I rested one arm on the window.

"If you're so capable, pay for your own cab home.

If you can't, then walk."

"But…"

The car was already moving.

Sara ran after it a couple of steps.

Then she stopped, clutching her belly.

Face pale, breathing hard.

The next second.

My car came back.

"Roy!"

Her eyes lit up.

"Forgot one thing."

I laid my hand on the window.

"That maternity dress you're wearing. I bought it."

She blinked. "What are you saying?"

"I'm saying, what's mine is mine."

The corners of her eyes reddened.

The hand fisting the fabric over her belly was shaking too.

"You can't actually mean for me to, out here…"

She couldn't finish.

I nodded.

"But I'm barely wearing anything underneath. You want me to strip right here?"

"That's your problem."

"You…"

What was on Sara's face wasn't sadness.

It was despair.

In the seven years I'd known her.

It was the first time I'd seen that huge, lost helplessness in her.

She was so used to running the show, at work and at home.

She'd never once realized there'd be a day she had to beg someone.

So she'd never left herself any room.

I felt an indescribable satisfaction.

I narrowed my eyes.

"Take it off."

Cars kept passing.

Every one of them slowed to peer curiously through the window.

And then Sara actually cried.

"I'll admit I was wrong, just let me back in the car, I'm begging you.

It's so dark out here, I'm scared…"

She looked at me through her tears.

She'd never seen me like this, this unmovable.

She looked around.

She spotted a cluster of bushes.

When I saw her taking the dress off in there.

Her shoulders shook, over and over.

She threw the dress at me.

I caught it.

Even behind the bushes, I could see it.

She was hugging her thin, barely-covered body tight.

Seven months pregnant.

Crouched in there, every position an agony.

But she didn't dare stand up.

She lifted her head, eyes red.

"If you've cooled down now, just let me back in the car…"

So even Sara could say something this small, this pleading.

I tossed her dress onto the back seat.

And left her nothing but a cold smile.

The car sped down the highway through the dark.

I couldn't keep the corners of my mouth from lifting.

Maybe I'd gone a little too far this time.

But after this.

She'd finally learn what respect meant.