Diane’s dining room was set like a stage when we arrived. Cloth napkins, the good china, and, at my place, a leather folder positioned exactly where a plate should have been. Diane greeted me with the warm, practiced smile I had learned to distrust. “Elena, sweetheart, sit. We have wonderful news, and there’s just a little paperwork to make everything official before the baby comes.” Nathan pulled out my chair with a tenderness he hadn’t shown me in months. The whole family was there, aunts, a cousin, Nathan’s brother, all smiling, all in on a moment I was clearly meant to feel too outnumbered to refuse. This was the surprise Corinne had sensed. They had assembled an audience so I would sign quietly rather than make a scene.

Diane slid the folder toward me. “It transfers the apartment into a family trust,” she said lightly. “Standard estate planning. Nathan manages it, you’re protected, the baby’s future is secure.” I opened it slowly. It was exactly what Corinne had warned me it would be, a transfer of the property, the property whose deed was in my name alone, purchased with my father’s inheritance, into a trust controlled entirely by Nathan and his mother. My name would come off. Everyone at the table watched me pick up the pen. Diane’s smile widened. Nathan leaned in. And I set the pen back down, unused, and reached into my own bag instead.