I never told my husband’s family that I’m the daughter of the Chief Justice of the United States Supreme Court. When I was seven months pregnant, they forced me to cook the entire Christmas Eve dinner by myself—the traditional family Christmas dinner. My mother-in-law even made me eat standing up in the kitchen, saying it was “good for the baby.”

I stared at him in disbelief.

“I think I’m losing the baby!”

Daniel leaned down, gripping my hair and forcing me to look at him.

“Listen carefully,” he said quietly. “I’m a lawyer. I know how this works. If you accuse me of anything, I’ll say you’re unstable. I have connections everywhere.”

He smiled slightly.

“You told me you grew up without parents. Who do you think anyone will believe?”

The pain in my stomach burned like fire, but anger began replacing fear.

I looked directly into his eyes.

“You’re right, Daniel,” I said slowly. “You understand the law.”

I paused.

“But you don’t know who leads it.”

He frowned.

“Give me the phone,” I said calmly. “Call my father.”

Daniel laughed loudly and grabbed his phone.

“Oh, this I have to hear,” he said mockingly as he dialed the number I gave him.

He put the call on speaker so everyone in the dining room could hear.

The phone rang twice before a deep voice answered.

“Identify yourself.”

Daniel smirked.

“This is Daniel Parker, husband of Emma Parker. Your daughter is making a scene in my home.”

There was a long pause.

Then the voice spoke again.

“Did you say… Emma Parker?”

Daniel raised an eyebrow.

“Yes.”

The reply came slowly, each word heavy with authority.