He got out of the car, slamming the door behind him. Lena watched with a flicker of hope, expecting him to come around to her side and help her out. Instead, he went to the trunk and opened it.

“What are you doing?” she cried out, breathless with pain.

He pulled her hospital bag from the trunk and threw it onto the snowy ground beside the car. “Get out,” he commanded. “I’m not taking you anywhere. I’m already late for Mom’s party because of you. You can figure this out yourself.”

She couldn’t believe what she was hearing. He was actually going to leave her here—nine months pregnant and in active labor—on the side of a frozen highway. “Mark, you can’t do this,” she sobbed. “It’s your child, too.”