While Trevor was distracted by the grill, she cornered me near the azaleas. Her face was composed, her eyes devoid of humor. “I’ve been thinking about how to balance the ledger,” she said, her voice smooth as polished glass. “When you have a son, he will be mine to raise. You took my boy, so you owe me a replacement.”

I laughed. A sharp, incredulous bark of a laugh, assuming it was a macabre joke. But Diane didn’t blink. She just stared at me, her gaze heavy with expectation. “It’s only fair,” she whispered.