Instead his shoulders dropped. He ran a hand through his hair and looked at me with tired, pleading eyes. “Dani, please. She means well. She’s trying to help.

If I take the key back, it starts World War Three.”

She means well.

That phrase became the anthem of my isolation. It wasn’t an explanation anymore, it was a white flag. And I understood that I wasn’t fighting his mother.

I was fighting his conditioning.

Chapter 4 — Hostile Takeover

Winter came, and with it a small warmth under my heart. I was pregnant.