Chapter 2

Jackson James didn't notice the change in my expression at all.

He pulled out his phone, casually opened the calculator, and started tallying it all up, dead serious.

"Don't make it sound so ugly the second money comes up. Settling the accounts clearly is how you keep feelings from getting hurt."

"Your maternity benefit should come to eighty-four thousand, three years of childcare subsidy is ten thousand eight hundred, plus the hundred thousand from your parents."

"That's a hundred and ninety-four thousand eight hundred total."

"The baby belongs to both of us, so of course I'm entitled to half, which is ninety-seven thousand four hundred."

"I'll put fifty thousand toward helping Margot, and spend thirty thousand booking a postpartum care retreat for you."

"Even if I cover it all, you still owe me seventeen thousand four hundred."

He said it like it was the most natural thing in the world, completely at ease.

I stared at that string of numbers, unable to say a word for a long moment.

Jackson actually thought he'd laid it all out clearly for me, and his tone softened a little.

"I'm not even asking you to transfer it right away. That's me being considerate enough already, so don't make such a big deal out of it."

I shoved away the phone he was holding out to me.

"So I'm the one who gets pregnant, your family doesn't pay a single cent, my family has to book the postpartum care retreat for your sister, and then I owe you seventeen thousand four hundred?"

Jackson's face darkened.

"Could you have a baby on your own, without me?"

"This was marital property to begin with. You married me, so you're a member of the James family."

"I'm taking a hit here instead of nickel-and-diming you over every detail, so what have you got to be angry about?"

In that moment, all I felt was disgust.

The face in front of me suddenly seemed utterly unfamiliar.

He gave no thought at all to the enormous toll childbirth takes on a woman's body.

All he knew how to do was calculate how to get more for himself.

I fought back the nausea and pointed at his briefcase on the passenger seat.

"Take your bag."

He froze.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Take your things and get the hell out of my car!"

Jackson was stunned by my shouting, and started stamping around, beside himself.

"Jessica Swanson, what's gotten into you? Over fifty thousand? Is it really worth it!"

I forced down the cramping in my stomach and spoke with finality.

"It is worth it! Not one cent of the money my parents gave for the baby gets touched."

"And the money for the postpartum retreat has to be refunded, right back where it came from."

He gave a cold snort, looking at me like I was some raving lunatic beyond reason.

"Don't forget, you're already pregnant, a married woman!"

"Take a good look at yourself. You still think you're some young girl?"

He slammed the car door hard.

I hit the gas and pulled straight out.

The car came to a stop on an empty lot by the river, my hands shaking uncontrollably.

I picked up my phone, meaning to make a video call to my mom.

The moment I switched to my messages, the very first thing in my social media feed was a new post from Margot.

She'd put up a close-up shot of the gold card from a high-end postpartum care retreat.

The caption read: Thanks to the best brother in the whole world. Turns out a woman really can only count on her own family.

Under it was a comment from Brenda: That's my boy, making something of himself.

Looking at that post, I was so angry I almost laughed.

Offhand, I tapped the like button in the bottom right corner.

Less than ten seconds later, the post vanished into thin air.

Right after that, Jackson's calls came bombarding in.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"I told you the fifty thousand didn't come out of the baby's money!"

"Margot puts up one post and you just have to like it to embarrass her?"

"Why aren't you talking? Big enough to hit like, but not big enough to open your mouth, huh?"

"I can't stand this thing you do, bottling everything up and deliberately giving people attitude!"

I didn't say a single word. I just hung up and blocked the number.

Leaning against the steering wheel, I couldn't hold back the tears.

Three years of marriage, and for what he called fairness, I'd poured in everything I had.

Now the baby wasn't even born yet, and he'd already set his sights on my maternity benefit.

I opened the browser on my phone.

In the search box, I typed a few words.

How to terminate a pregnancy.