“This,” I said, sliding the folder across the kitchen island toward him, “is a formal Postnuptial Agreement and Custody Mandate.

Drafted by my attorney.

Reviewed, and ready.”

He stared at it as though it were a coiled snake on the marble.

“You have two choices, Julian,” I said.

“The first choice is that you sign this document.

It legally binds you to split all non-working childcare hours with me, fifty-fifty.

It mandates equal financial responsibility for any hired help.