Chapter 3 - HE SIGNED IT
I read the signature three times.
Mark Morgan.
The M leaned too far left. The final g curled under itself.
I had watched that signature appear on birthday cards, mortgage papers, and the consent form at our fertility clinic.
There was no mistake.
My husband had signed it.
I took pictures of every page with shaking hands.
Then I put everything back exactly where I found it.
At 5:40 that evening, Mark walked in carrying takeout.
"I got your favorite," he said.
I almost laughed.
Instead, I asked, "Do you think I'm going to hurt our baby?"
He stopped.
There it was again. That flicker.
"Why would you ask me that?"
"Answer me."
"No."
"Then why did you sign papers saying I'm unstable?"
The bag slipped from his hand.
Sauce splashed across the floor.
For five seconds, neither of us moved.
Then he whispered, "You went through Mom's things?"
I felt something break cleanly inside me.
"That's your question?"
"Rachel, listen. It wasn't supposed to be filed."
"You signed it."
"Mom's attorney said it was precautionary."
"Against me?"
"Against postpartum depression. Against something going wrong."
I stared at him. "You built a case against your pregnant wife because something might go wrong?"
He lowered his voice. "You've been emotional."
"I'm pregnant."
"You've said you feel overwhelmed."
"Because your mother moved into my house and treats me like dirt!"
The study door opened.
Diane stepped out.
She had been home the whole time.
"This is exactly what I'm talking about," she said.
I turned toward her.
"Get out."
She smiled without warmth. "I don't think that's your decision anymore."
Mark said nothing.
Then Diane held up her phone.
On the screen was a message from an attorney.
FILED 4:52 PM.
May you like
My stomach dropped.
Diane looked at me and said, "Now we let a judge decide who's safe for the baby."
