We had never been close, and I barely knew the man, yet the attorney, Harold Fletcher, calmly explained that the estate was worth more than two hundred million dollars and that I was to inherit everything once the paperwork was finalized.
I slid down onto the cold tile floor while he spoke because the room would not stop spinning, and the shock was so intense that I could not even feel happiness.
He told me the matter had to remain confidential until the final documents were signed, and I decided that I would tell Tyler after the baby was born so we could start fresh without stress.
For months, Tyler had grown distant and sharp, snapping at every bill and complaining about every grocery receipt, and I kept convincing myself that the pressure of becoming a father was simply overwhelming him.
That night, as I folded tiny onesies for our son, he looked at me as if I were an inconvenience and said in a flat voice, “I am tired of carrying you.”
Hours after he walked out, my water broke, and I drove myself to Riverside General Hospital with tears blurring my vision and pain tearing through my body.