“The house looks… clean, Chloe,” Diane had said upon arriving, running a finger along a spotless windowsill. “It’s amazing what one can do with such a modest space.”

Mark, ever the peacemaker, remained willfully blind. He saw a mother who was a “bit traditional,” “set in her ways.” He refused to see the saboteur who viewed his wife as an unworthy usurper. “Mom’s just a little old-fashioned,” he’d whisper to Chloe after a particularly sharp comment. “Don’t let it get to you, honey. That’s just who she is.”

The party reached a crescendo of polite chatter when a delivery man arrived with a ridiculously large gift basket. It was wrapped in gaudy gold cellophane and filled with designer baby clothes and a silver rattle that was surely more expensive than their stroller. The card was from Sophia, Mark’s high-school sweetheart.