When I showed the ticket to my husband, Mark, he smiled nervously. “We should be careful,” he said. “We don’t want anyone knowing.” But I underestimated the greed simmering just beneath the surface in my in-laws.

It started subtly. My mother-in-law, Diane, suggested I “hand it over for safekeeping.” I laughed at the absurdity. “It’s mine. I earned it.” But then the atmosphere shifted. Diane’s eyes darkened, her voice sharp. “You think you can hold that money while we suffer?”

Before I could react, my sister-in-law, Vanessa, lunged at me, grabbing the ticket. My protests were met with shoves. I stumbled back, my hand instinctively holding my swollen belly. Diane pushed harder. The edge of the kitchen table slammed into me. Pain shot through my abdomen, and in the same instant, I felt the warm gush of water. Blood trickled, and my body trembled from shock.