I had been in the kitchen since 5:00 a.m., preparing Christmas dinner for my husband’s family.

The turkey, the cranberry sauce, the pies, the roasted vegetables—every dish on the table had been cooked by me alone.

By the time the guests arrived, my ankles were swollen and my back felt like it was breaking. I was seven months pregnant, and the pain was getting worse every hour.

But in my mother-in-law Margaret Whitmore’s house, excuses didn’t exist.

“Where is the cranberry sauce?” she snapped from the dining room. “Thomas’s plate is dry!”

I carried the dish into the room as politely as I could. The table looked like something from a magazine—crystal glasses, silver cutlery, candles glowing beside the fireplace.

My husband Thomas Whitmore sat at the head of the table, laughing with his colleague.

He barely looked at me.

“About time,” Margaret muttered. “The turkey is already cold.”

I placed the dish down carefully.

“Thomas,” I said quietly, “my back hurts a lot. Can I sit for a moment?”

He sighed, annoyed that I had interrupted.

“Claire, please,” he said coldly. “Don’t embarrass me in front of my guests. Just listen to my mother.”

The room went silent.

I stared at the empty chair beside him.

I hadn’t eaten all day.

Slowly, I pulled the chair out.

The scraping sound across the floor made Margaret slam her hand onto the table.

“What do you think you’re doing?” she hissed.

“I just need to sit for a minute,” I whispered. “The baby is kicking hard.”

Her eyes burned with fury.

“Servants don’t sit with the family,” she spat. “Eat in the kitchen after we’re done. Standing up. It’s good for the baby.”

I looked at Thomas, hoping he would defend me.

Instead, he took a sip of wine.

“Just do what my mother says,” he replied. “Stop making a scene.”

A sharp cramp twisted through my stomach.

“Thomas… something’s wrong,” I gasped.

Margaret followed me into the kitchen, her face tight with anger.

“Pretending again to avoid work?” she sneered.

“I’m not pretending,” I whispered, holding the counter. “Please… call a doctor.”

She stepped closer.

“You lazy girl.”

Then she shoved me.

Hard.

I lost my balance, slipping on the tile floor. My back slammed against the sharp edge of the granite island before I crashed to the ground.

The pain exploded through my body.

Then I felt warmth spreading beneath me.

I looked down.

Blood.

“My baby…” I whispered.

Thomas rushed in with his colleague behind him.

He stared at the floor.