I wondered why Julian was suddenly locking me out of the foundation’s accounting software five months into my pregnancy.

I sat in the dark office.

Julian walked past my open door without stopping, his leather briefcase in his right hand.

He went into his private study at the end of the hall.

The door shut with a solid thud.

A second later, the heavy metal deadbolt turned from the inside.

By nine the next morning, Julian was kneeling on the floor of the second-floor nursery with a yellow steel tape measure stretched along the baseboard.

I pulled open the top drawer of the white antique crib we had bought in Columbus and pushed it back in to test the wooden runners.