I turned. Diane, flanked by Michael and a very pregnant Khloe, practically vibrating with smugness, both arms full of newborn clothes.

My mother stepped in front of me, spine like a steel rod. “Mind your tone, Diane. My daughter is upgrading her life, having finally shed the dead weight of your deceitful son.”

Diane went purple. “How dare you. My son is upgrading. He’s getting a beautiful child, while your daughter rots in a nursing home with no one to visit her.”

Khloe played her part, clutching Michael’s arm. “Please, let’s not fight. I just want my baby born into peace.”

I stepped out from behind my mother, looked at Khloe’s belly, then up to her panicked eyes. “Peace is the last thing this child is going to bring. You’d better hope genetics is kind to you, Khloe.

Because if that baby comes out looking like its actual father, all the onesies in the world won’t save you.”