My baby shower was almost over when my mother-in-law walked straight to the gift table and swept every cash envelope into her handbag.

The panic that hit me in Greg Callahan's office wasn't emotional; it was physical.

My vision narrowed to a pinprick. The walls seemed to tilt, and the smell of industrial motor oil suddenly made my throat seize. I stood up, made it two steps toward the door, and then the air simply vanished from my lungs.

"Natalie!" Diane’s voice sounded muffled, like she was shouting underwater.

Strong hands caught me before I hit the linoleum floor. Greg eased me back into the vinyl chair, shouting down the hallway for Brenda to bring a bottle of cold water and a wet paper towel.

"Breathe, Nat. Put your head between your knees," Greg urged, his rough hand steadying my shoulder. "Slow breaths. Brenda, get the fan!"

I bent forward, my hands pressing into the curve of my belly. *Not now, June,* I pleaded internally. *Please, sweet girl, not now. Stay safe. Stay still.*

After ten agonizing minutes, the black spots cleared from my vision. Diane was kneeling on the floor beside me, wiping my clammy forehead with a cool cloth. Her eyes were wide with a fierce, protective terror.

"We’re going to the hospital right now to get you checked," Diane said firmly.

"No," I managed to whisper, pushing the cloth away. "No hospital. A hospital visit without insurance will cost five thousand dollars just to walk through the triage doors. We can't afford it."

"Natalie, your health—"

"I am fine," I lied, forcing myself to sit upright. My hands were still shaking, but the trembling in my voice was replaced by a strange, cold resolve. "I need my phone."

I pulled my cell phone from my purse and dialed Holly’s number. It rang once before she answered.

"Nat? Where are you? Are you okay?"

"Holly, I need you to do something for me," I said, my voice eerily calm. "I need you to call Sarah in our district HR department. Tell her I have an emergency qualifying life event. Tell her I need to know if loss of spousal coverage allows for mid-year enrollment on the district’s health plan."

"On it," Holly said without asking a single question. "Where are you?"

"I’m with Diane. We’re coming to your house."

Twenty minutes later, Diane and I walked through Holly’s front door. Aunt Carol was already there, sitting at the dining room table with an open checkbook and a stack of financial documents.

When Aunt Carol saw me, she burst into fresh tears and threw her arms around my neck. "Oh, Natty... I’m so sorry. I should have asked you directly. I should never have written that check to Adam without calling you."

"Aunt Carol, stop," I said, holding her tightly. "None of this is your fault. He used my name, he used our baby, and he exploited your kindness. Diane already brought the money to pay you back."

"I don't want the money back!" Aunt Carol cried, pulling back to look at me. "I want you and this baby to be safe! That’s all any of us wanted!"

Holly emerged from the home office down the hall, holding a yellow legal pad covered in notes. Her expression was grim, but determined.

"Okay," Holly said, slapping the pad onto the table. "Here’s where we stand. Sarah in HR says because Adam lost his job on October thirty-first, you have thirty days from the date of coverage loss to submit an emergency enrollment petition with proof of involuntary termination. That gives us until November thirtieth to get Greg’s termination letter stamped and filed with the school board."

"Will it cover the delivery?" I asked, holding my breath.

"It will," Holly nodded. "Retroactive to November first. The monthly premium will jump by three hundred dollars out of your paycheck starting in January, but June’s birth will be covered under the district's eighty-twenty plan."

A massive weight lifted from my ribs, allowing me to take my first full breath in two hours. But before I could speak, Diane laid another document on the table.

It was a standard Franklin County legal separation petition, printed from the domestic relations court website.

"This is step two," Diane said. "We file for emergency legal separation and exclusive use of the marital residence tomorrow morning. I’ve already called an attorney friend of mine, Eleanor Vance—Marcus’s sister. She specializes in domestic asset protection."

I looked at the paperwork. "What about Adam?"

Right on cue, as if summoned by his name, the front door of Holly’s house rattled violently.

Someone was pounding on the glass sidelight with the flat of their fist.