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At eight months pregnant, I discovered my husband had completely drained my $48,000 emergency pregnancy fund. I checked his phone’s GPS and found out he was in Hawaii, chilling on a beach resort with his female co-workers. I booked a flight, flew straight there, and confronted him in front of them all. He just smirked, sipping a cocktail and saying: “A man has physiological needs; a pregnant wife at home is completely helpless to stop me.” He returned home days later sunburnt and laughing, but the locks were changed, and signed divorce papers were taped to the door of a house that now legally belonged to a complete stranger.

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I rested one hand on my daughter’s movement beneath my ribs. She was kicking, a fierce, rhythmic drumming. I’ve got you, Lily, I thought. He thinks I’m the one who’s trapped. He has no idea the walls are already moving.

Chapter 2 Ending: As I turned back to the computer, a new notification popped up. Daniel had just attempted to access the ‘Project continue reading …

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