I rubbed my hand over my stomach, a sudden warmth blooming in my chest despite the biting cold.

I had to protect my baby, and I had to protect my reputation.

I walked the three blocks to my apartment building, my legs feeling heavy.

The lobby was quiet, smelling of floor wax and old radiator heat.

I took the elevator to the fourth floor and walked down the carpeted hallway to my door.

As I reached into my coat pocket for my keys, I stopped.

The brass lock on my door was slightly turned, and the frame was a fraction of an inch out of alignment.

Someone was inside.

I slipped my hand into my purse, wrapping my fingers around a heavy metal water bottle.

Slowly, I pushed the door.

It gave way with a faint creak that seemed deafening in the quiet hallway.

The entryway was dark, but a sliver of yellow light spilled from the living room.

I stepped onto the linoleum, keeping my weight on the balls of my feet.

The scent of rain and expensive cedar wood met me.