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.

"Elena Lambert, thank you so much for all your help. Stay for dinner—I'll have the housekeeper make a few extra dishes."

But Elena's eyes darted away, and she smiled as she declined. "Oh, no, I couldn't. I have plans tonight."

Seeing the bashful look on her face, I couldn't resist teasing her.

"It's a man, isn't it? Come on, spill—have you finally found yourself a boyfriend?"

"Oh, stop! It's way too early to say anything. But the moment it's official, you'll be the first to know."

Her voice was coy, and she unconsciously shifted the bag in her hands behind her back.

It was a new designer handbag from a luxury brand—far beyond her usual budget.

A flicker of something unsettled passed through me, but the joy of successfully changing my daughter's surname pushed it aside.

"Alright, go on then." I turned to my husband, who had been standing silently nearby. "Irvin, drive Elena home. She's been such a big help."

Irvin grunted in acknowledgment, his expression still sullen. "Let's go."

The next morning, I woke early, my breasts aching with milk. That's when I heard a faint sound at the front door.

I pulled on a robe and got up just in time to see Irvin stepping inside.

Suspicion stirred in my chest, but I kept my face neutral. "You're up early. Did you go out, or are you just getting back?"

He froze for a split second, then forced a tired smile.

"Boss called an emergency meeting last night. Kept us there all night—I just crashed on the office couch for a bit. Figured I'd grab you those soup dumplings you love on my way home."

I nodded and didn't press further.

His family's orchard back in his hometown had been bleeding money for years. It was only after I'd suggested it countless times that he'd reluctantly taken a regular job. But with his mediocre skills and inflated ego, work hadn't exactly been going well for him.

"Honey, there's something I wanted to run by you."

Irvin's sudden words put me on alert. I had a feeling this wasn't going to be good.

"Go ahead."

"So, Baby's one-month celebration is coming up. I was thinking—we should really do it up right, you know? Make it a big event!"

I frowned immediately. "He's just a baby. Something simple is fine. Besides, we didn't even throw a party when Marcia turned one month old."

Irvin's response was almost reflexive. "That's completely different!"

The moment the words left his mouth and he saw my expression darken, he scrambled to explain.

"I mean—because we didn't do it for Marcia, we should definitely do it for Baby! Plus, think about all the gift money my parents have given out over the years at other people's celebrations. This is our chance to get some of that back!"

I stared at his calculating face, cold amusement rising in my chest. "Fine. If you want to throw a party, throw one."

A flash of triumph crossed Irvin's face before it was quickly replaced by a look of difficulty.

"The thing is, honey... you know my parents don't have any savings. So I was wondering—could your parents maybe help us out with fifty thousand dollars?"

"Fifty thousand?" My head snapped up. "Irvin, have you lost your mind? Fifty thousand for a one-month celebration?"

Irvin's brow furrowed with irritation. "This is the first grandson of the Cobb family! Are we supposed to make it look cheap?"

"My parents' money is money they worked hard for! It's not there to fund your ego or fill the bottomless pit that is your family!"

I fought to keep my anger in check, my voice turning to ice.

"I agreed to the party. But the money? Figure it out yourself. I'm not asking them."

Irvin's face twisted with barely contained rage. He glared at me for a long moment before finally grinding out through clenched teeth:

"Fine! Greta, you're heartless!"

Irvin went ahead and booked the best hotel in the city for Baby's celebration without consulting me.

The day I walked past, he and Brooklyn were at the table, counting through the invitation list together.

I glanced over—and realized my parents' names were nowhere on it.

"Irvin! You didn't invite my parents to our son's one-month celebration?!"

Irvin panicked instantly, scrambling to gather the scattered invitations on the table.

"It's nothing—I was just checking who we missed. I need to send out more, that's all."

I frowned at him. Something in my gut told me he wasn't being honest.

Still uneasy, I found a moment to call my mother.

"Mom, you know Baby's one-month celebration is this Saturday, right?"

She laughed warmly. "Of course! I've already got the red envelope ready to celebrate my grandson!"

"Grandson?" I asked, confused. "What do you mean?"

My father took the phone. "Irvin told us—he's letting Baby take your surname. They'll change it right after the celebration."

I was about to tell them that Marcia had already had her name changed, but before I could finish, the line went dead.

Afterward, my mother sent a text saying something had come up and we'd talk on Saturday.

That evening, Irvin came home to find me waiting in the living room.

"My parents said you agreed to let Baby take my surname?"

He smiled and nodded. "That's right. They wanted Baby to carry on the Pruitt name, didn't they?"

I frowned, reminding him again. "But Marcia already—"

He suddenly leaned down and kissed my forehead, gazing at me with what looked like pure devotion.

"It's fine, sweetheart. I've thought it through. If both children take your name, I'm okay with that."

His words only deepened my confusion.

Since when had he become a completely different person?

And even if he truly agreed—what about his mother? Would she ever accept this?

That night, I tested the waters with my mother-in-law.

To my surprise, she agreed as well.

"Yes, Irvin mentioned it. Your parents are getting older—it's only natural they'd want a grandchild to carry on the family name."

With her saying that, I let the matter go.

After all, if both children took my surname, my parents would only end up giving more.

The next morning, I dressed Baby in his outfit for the celebration. Then my mother-in-law spoke up.

"Greta, dear, the venue's going to be packed with people. Why don't you and Baby just stay home? No need to deal with all that chaos—what if the crowd overwhelms him?"

I stared at her, bewildered. "Today is his one-month celebration. How can he not be there?"

She smiled reassuringly. "It's really just an excuse to get everyone together. He's so little—it won't be convenient. Besides, your father's relatives all smoke like chimneys. We don't want Baby breathing that in."

She had a point there.

The first year of our marriage, Irvin and I had gone back to his hometown for a banquet. His relatives had smoked so heavily the entire room was thick with it. I could barely breathe.

"Alright then."

Seeing me relent, she added, "Oh, and your parents must be dying to see Baby. Tell them not to bother going to the hotel—they can come straight here to keep you and the little one company."

I'd been thinking the same thing. Since she'd offered, I didn't refuse.

But then Baby suddenly got an upset stomach, and I was so busy changing his diaper that I forgot to message my parents.

By the time I remembered, it was already noon. I called immediately.

"Hello? Mom, Dad—are you at the hotel? Don't bother going. Just come straight to the house to see me and Baby."

But my mother's voice was strange. "You and Baby are at home? Then who's that child I'm looking at in your mother-in-law's arms? And the one Irvin is holding?"

I froze.

I looked down at the baby in my arms.

Baby was here with me. So whose child did Irvin have?

Just then, my phone buzzed. Marcia's teacher had tagged me in the class group chat—the school summer camp registration was closing, and Marcia was the only one who hadn't signed up. She needed me to send a photo of Marcia's household registration page.

I rushed to find the household registration book, but when I flipped to my daughter's page, I froze.

Her name was supposed to have been changed to Marcia Pruitt. Instead, it still read Marcia Cobb—and there was no "former name" entry added.

Which meant Irvin had never changed her name at all.

My whole body started trembling. I immediately called my best friend, Elena Lambert.

Her phone rang for a long time before someone picked up.

Before I could say a word, a familiar voice came through the speaker.

"Elena, come quick! Your dad wants you to bring Baby over to toast the guests."

That was... my mother-in-law's voice.