My MIL Said She’d Kick Me Out Of The House If I Didn’t Give Birth To A Boy This Time

She didn’t lecture. She just said, “Text me where you are. I’m on my way.”

That night, we slept on a mattress in my old room.

The next afternoon, there was a knock.

Michael stood there. Jeans, flannel. Tired and furious.

“You’re not going back to beg,” he said quietly. “Get in the car, sweetheart. We’re going to show Derek and Patricia what’s really coming for them.”

I hesitated. “I can’t go back there.”

“You’re not going back to beg,” he repeated. “You’re coming with me. There’s a difference.”

We drove in silence.

“They said you ran home to sulk,” he told me. “Said you couldn’t handle consequences.”

I laughed bitterly. “Consequences for what? Having daughters?”

He shook his head. “No. Consequences for them.”

We walked into the house.

Patricia’s face twisted into a smug smile. “Oh, you brought her back. Good. Maybe now she’s ready to behave.”

Michael didn’t look at her.

“Did you put my granddaughters and my pregnant daughter-in-law on the porch?” he asked Derek.