The Betrayal After My Second Baby

My mother-in-law's face flushed crimson, her neck mottling with rage at being called out.

She was about to explode when the maternity nurse came over to remind me it was time to breastfeed.

I turned and lay down without a second glance, my voice ice-cold.

"Can't feed. Too angry. My milk's blocked."

She tried to charge over to argue, but Irvin pulled her out of the room.

Irvin and I had married for love.

Back then, when my friends found out that I—an only daughter from a wealthy Jiangnan family—was actually going to marry into some rural inland village, their jaws nearly hit the floor.

They took turns trying to talk sense into me, saying that even if I insisted on marrying him, he should at least take my family name.

But the word "uxorilocal" was something Irvin couldn't bear to hear.

"Greta, I'm the only son in my family. My parents are counting on me. I can't leave them!"

And I, drowning in lovesick stupidity, ignored my parents' tears and my friends' warnings and followed him back to his hometown.

Reality slapped me hard across the face.

After the wedding, the hillside farm he and his parents had contracted lost money year after year. My parents were the ones keeping them afloat.

All those promises he'd made when we were dating—"We'll have two kids, one takes each surname"—turned out to be nothing but lies from the very beginning.

His whole family had planned from the start to leech off mine.

The more I thought about it, the tighter the knot in my chest became, until it physically ached.

I don't know how long I lay there before the door creaked open.

Irvin walked in carrying a container of soup dumplings—my favorite.

"Honey, still mad? I just got Marcia to sleep. She cried her heart out, absolutely refuses to change her name."

I laughed coldly to myself.

"You're right. Changing names is such a hassle—so much paperwork to redo."

His face lit up instantly.

"Exactly! See, honey, I knew you'd come around. You've always been so reasonable—"

"So," I cut him off, my voice flat, "it'll be much easier to just change Baby's name instead. Like we originally agreed. He'll be Abbott Pruitt."

The smile froze on Irvin's face. He shot to his feet, his voice cracking with anger.

"Absolutely not!"

When I just stared at him coldly without responding, he forced himself to calm down, switching to a tone of pained sincerity.

"Greta, be reasonable here. My family has had only sons for three generations! If Baby takes your surname, our family line ends. How am I supposed to face our relatives? How are my parents supposed to hold their heads up?"

I took a deep breath. "So when you promised my parents—two children, one surname each—that was all bullshit?"

Confronted with the accusation, Irvin's face turned the color of raw liver.

"Greta Pruitt! Why do you have to be so aggressive? That's not the same thing at all! Besides, if you'd been capable of giving me a son the first time, we wouldn't be dealing with any of this!"

My blood turned to ice.

"Irvin, do you have any basic knowledge of biology? The father's chromosomes determine the baby's sex!"

He had no comeback for that.

Instead, he kicked the chair beside him with all his strength. The crash was loud enough to wake Baby, who burst into wails.

I watched him storm out, and my heart sank to the bottom of a pit.

This was the man I'd given two children to.

Because I refused to back down, Irvin finally agreed to change our daughter's name.

I didn't trust him to handle it alone, so I asked my best friend Elena to go with him and supervise every step of the paperwork.

"Don't worry, I watched him do everything myself. Look—it's done. Changed from Marcia Cobb to Marcia Pruitt."

That afternoon, Elena came back with the brand-new household registration.

I nodded with satisfaction. The weight that had been pressing on my chest for days finally began to lift.