Chapter 1

The police officer read through the incident report several times before looking at my husband, Greyson Lewis.

"You're telling me you want to press charges against your wife over twenty dollars? Are you sure you want to go through with this?"

Greyson leaned back in his chair. "She stole twenty dollars today. Tomorrow, she'll steal two thousand. She needs to learn her lesson."

The officer frowned deeply. "Your wife is twenty-two weeks pregnant. Taking twenty dollars to buy food because she was hungry in the middle of the night is a domestic dispute.

"And your wife says you cut off her living expenses because she gained weight during pregnancy?"

Greyson immediately turned to look at me. I instinctively drew my hands back at the look in his eyes.

"She weighed 98 pounds before she got pregnant. Now she's over 120. The doctor said pregnant women need to control their weight. I'm only doing this for her own good."

The officer was about to say something else, but I shook my head. "Forget it."

It was half past one in the morning when we left the police station.

Greyson glanced at the half-eaten burger in my hand. "We're walking home."

I froze. Our home was nearly two and a half miles away. "My stomach hurts a little."

Greyson checked his watch. "Funny how it didn't hurt when you were eating the burger. Walk faster. You'll burn another 200 calories."

With that, he strode ahead without waiting for me.

The night air was bitterly cold. Ever since I'd gotten pregnant, I'd been suffering from persistent pain around my pubic bone.

By the second intersection, the pain between my legs felt as though someone were grinding a dull knife into me.

Greyson turned around impatiently. "Alana Keller, what are you pretending to be in pain for now? Gracie's clients can power-walk three miles at seven months pregnant. You're barely past five months."

The moment I heard Gracie Bean's name, I fell silent. She was Greyson's college classmate and now ran a prenatal and postpartum fitness studio. Ever since she'd returned to the country, Greyson had started obsessively tracking my body fat, measurements, and diet every day.

It was nearly three in the morning by the time we got home. A brand-new digital scale sat beside the entryway.

Greyson pointed at it. "You just ate a burger and fries. I want to see how much damage one moment of indulgence can do."

I took off my shoes and stepped onto the scale. The numbers jumped to 136.2 pounds.

Greyson's expression darkened immediately. "You were 134.7 yesterday."

I tried to explain quietly. "It's normal for your weight to fluctuate throughout the day."

"Always an excuse."

He took a picture of the number and posted it in our group chat, which he'd named "Alana's Weight Loss Accountability Group".

At the top of the chat was a list of rules he'd drawn up himself.

Weigh in every Monday.

Gain one pound, lose $300 in living expenses. Gain two pounds, and get no living expenses the following week.

Eat a late-night snack, and go carb-free the next day. Get caught sneaking food, and walk an extra ten thousand steps.

Before I got pregnant, Greyson had never treated me this way.

Back then, if I said I wanted pizza in the middle of the night, he'd pull on his slippers and run three blocks to get it for me.

When my stomach hurt, he'd sit beside my bed and spoon-feed me broth.

When we lost our first baby, Greyson had been away negotiating a contract in another city. I spent the entire night in agony in our hotel room.

By the time the ambulance took me to the hospital, the baby was already gone.

Greyson rushed back and held me in his arms, crying for a long time. "When we have another baby, I swear I'll take care of both of you."

So when I got pregnant for the second time, and he told me to quit my job and focus on the pregnancy, I agreed without a moment's hesitation.

It wasn't until my third month of unemployment that I realized what focusing on my pregnancy really meant: giving up my ability to earn money first.

Greyson locked the kitchen. "Tomorrow, you're eating nothing but vegetables."

I stared at his back. "I haven't had my anatomy scan yet."

He stopped walking. "Do you think you can use the baby as an excuse to get whatever money you want out of me?"

I stood there, stunned. Just then, the baby inside me gave a sudden kick.

For some reason, my nose began to sting.

Standing outside the police station earlier, I'd actually thought about it. If Greyson hated how fat I'd gotten so much, wouldn't it be easier to just get rid of the baby?

But now that I could feel the baby moving inside me, I still couldn't bring myself to do it.