“I’m five months pregnant,” I said, keeping my voice level.

“Giving birth without insurance costs over seven thousand dollars at St.

Jude.”

“Then you should be very careful not to make a public scene at the foundation benefit on Saturday night,” Julian said.

He took his phone out of his trousers, tapped the screen three times, and held the glowing display up in front of my face.

The glow of Julian’s phone lit up his smug expression as he locked my credit profile.

That Saturday, he slipped the phone into his jacket pocket and straightened his cuffs before stepping out to greet the valet.