Chapter 2

I sat at the edge of the bed and felt the old man's breath catch.

When I looked at him, his face was worn thin, but his eyes were oddly cold.

Right on cue, my phone buzzed. A message from my son.

【Mom, talk Dad down, don't let him get worked up. Once the baby's born I'll bring the child to see him.】

I replied: No need. Bringing a child with another family's surname would only send your father to his grave with his eyes open.

Then his voice message popped up, thick with agitation. "Mom, will you ever stop? Margery was there earlier, so I held back and let it go, gave you some face! What does it matter whose surname the child takes? You and Dad have this one grandson, and you'd really refuse to claim him?"

I turned the volume up a little. "You two shouldn't be such old fools. Once the baby's in your arms you'll love him more than anyone! And when you want to see him, I'll be the one charging you for it. Oh, and since Margery's giving you a grandson, what are you and your father sending over? A yacht? An estate? Grandparents shouldn't be so stingy. Think it over."

When the message finished playing, no one in the room said a word.

Two minutes passed. The old man coughed, then tore the will in his hands to pieces.

His face flushed red with anger as he pointed and instructed the lawyer, "Then there's no need for all that trouble. When I die, every piece of Henson property, every share, all of it goes to my wife."

"Mr. Henson, nothing at all for the young master?"

He closed his eyes and leaned back against the headboard. "I don't have a grandson."

I sat at his bedside all night. Eight critical-condition notices came through before dawn, and it wasn't until morning that he finally steadied his breathing.

When I stepped out of the room, his illegitimate son was kneeling outside the door.

"Mom..." He caught my sleeve.

Without a second thought, I pulled free in disgust. "Don't go claiming ties that aren't there. You can eat whatever you like, but you'd better watch what you say."

"Mom, my surname is Henson. Whether you claim me or not, I'll take care of you in your old age."

I let out a cold laugh. My own son was a useless thing; why would I pin any hopes on somebody else's child?

Besides, from the very start, I'd never felt any warmth toward him.

"You're clever. A pity you're not my son."

Rex crawled toward me on his knees. "But Mom, my child can carry your Harding name!"

He knocked his forehead hard against the floor, and his words filtered through my mind one at a time.

A grandson taking his mother's surname had never bothered me much.

His father, though, had waited too long for this child.

From beginning to end, what I'd been angry about was my son's lack of respect.

It was only a surname. I couldn't understand what the two of them, father and son, were fighting over.

But now, all at once, I understood them a little.

I lowered my eyes to the man on the floor, and suddenly this child pleased me a great deal.