Months earlier, Peter had deliberately taken full control of our household finances, promising me again and again that he had it all handled so I wouldn’t get stressed during a high-risk pregnancy.

Now he was taking the very ignorance he had so carefully arranged and using it as a weapon to justify throwing our firstborn out of his own bed.

“Pull up the accounts on your phone right now, Peter, because I want to see every penny we owe before either of us takes another breath,” I demanded, holding out my hand.

He hesitated for a moment, then yanked his phone out of the pocket of his jeans, jabbed angrily at the screen and shoved the glowing display in front of my face.