"A girl doesn't count! Listen to me, Scarlett—this one's a write-off. Once your confinement month is up, you need to get pregnant again immediately! The Abbott family has had a single son for three generations. We will not let the line die because of your incompetence!"
In the past, whenever his mother went on these tirades, Rhys would rush to shield me, claiming he preferred daughters anyway.
But today?
Rhys stood behind her, limp and spineless. He tugged at her sleeve in a half-hearted attempt to silence her, not daring to meet my eyes.
"Mom, Lettie just gave birth. Can't this wait?" Rhys pleaded, exhaustion dripping from every word.
"There is no later."
I cut him off. My second brother stepped forward and produced the divorce agreement he'd prepared days ago. I slapped the document onto the bedside table.
"I bought the house before the wedding. The car was part of my dowry. You get neither." My voice was flat. "Full custody of the child goes to me. Your salary and savings? Keep them. I don't want a single cent."
I stared him down. "Read it. Sign it."