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

lowered. “Olivia, think carefully. You have a child coming. Legal battles are expensive.”

“So are bail hearings.”

He inhaled sharply. “You ungrateful little—”

I hung up.

Then I saved the call log and added the number to the file Ethan had started on his laptop. For the first time, we were documenting everything. Not emotionally. Not chaotically. Carefully.continue reading …