I was 7 months pregnant at my brother’s engagement party when my dad handed my Mercedes keys to his fiancée like it was his gift to give. I demanded them back, but instead of

bun. Her badge read Martinez. Beside her stood a younger officer named Blake, already holding a notepad.

My father cleared his throat. “There must be some misunderstanding.”

Officer Martinez looked at me. “Ma’am, are you Olivia Whitmore-Hayes?”

“Yes,” I said.

Ethan stood close to me, his shoulder tense from where he had struck the wall. He kept murmuring continue reading …