The annual meeting was in June. I was thirty-two weeks by then, and I had a doctor's note saying I wasn't to travel, which meant the meeting came to me: Miriam, Hayes, and a notary in my living room, while I sat in the good armchair with my feet up and Owen made coffee for the lawyer.
The amendment passed three to one. Owen abstained. Grant voted against and lost.
That was the end of the clause. No committee review. No medical documents. No heir required to justify their body to a board.
After they were gone, Owen sat on the arm of my chair and looked at the empty room.
"We could name her after your mother," he said. "Or not at all. No pressure."
"What if it's a boy?"
"Same answer."
I leaned against his shoulder. "I don't want to name a baby after a clause. Or a trust. Or a family.
