Chapter 12
Felicia’s words instantly changed everyone’s expressions.
Yvonne snapped, “The surname Pruitt? Why should our Wade family’s daughter take your surname?”
Edwina, sensing the tension, handed the baby to Emma. “Licia, don’t be stubborn. Even if it’s a daughter, she should still carry the Wade
surname.”
Felicia thought, “Even if it’s a daughter?
“Weren’t you the ones begging for a granddaughter? Now you’re disappointed?”
Ambrose tilted his head. “Mom, why isn’t the baby surnamed Lucero? Minerva sounds better than Pruitt!”
He then grinned at his pink–cheeked sister. “Grandma, she’s pretty! Like Auntie Mabel!”
“Like Auntie Mabel? Must everything “good” resemble her?” Felicia
wondered.
Mabel smiled sweetly, reaching for the baby. “Really? Let me hold her!”
The moment she touched the infant, the baby wailed.
Felicia’s last thread of patience snapped.
“Out.”
She pointed to the door, her voice trembling. “All of you, out. Now.”
“Felicia, I’m sorry. I just wanted to hold her…”
Mabel pouted, eyes glistening.
Seymour frowned. “Enough, Felicia. Stop taking your anger out on Mabel.”
Felicia clenched her fists, her heart stinging.
“This’s the man I loved for years?” she thought.
Her gaze shifted to her son, whose face briefly flashed disdain.
“And this is the child I loved more than myself?” She thought to herself.
Felicia tilted her chin up, refusing to let tears fall. “Let’s talk outside.”
Emma hesitated. “Mrs. Lucero, you’re not supposed to leave bed within. 24 hours.”
Her words made Seymour pause.
Felicia had just given birth. Maybe that explained her outburst.
He noticed her pale face, stubbornly lifted, eyes glistening.
“Mom, everyone out.”
“But…”
“Now. Let me talk to her.”
Mabel tugged her mother’s sleeve. “If Felicia doesn’t want us here, let’s go.”
“Okay!”
The room emptied, leaving only Felicia, Seymour, and the baby.
Miraculously, the infant stopped crying and fell asleep.
Emma excused herself to fetch hot water, giving them privacy.
Once the door closed, Felicia spoke calmly.
“Did you read my text, Seymour?”
Seymour frowned. “What text?”
She didn’t care if he was lying.
“Then I’ll say it again. Seymour, I want a divorce.”
“You keep Ambi. I take our daughter. Split your assets evenly. Child support cancels out. We’ll finalize it after my recovery.”
Divorce?
His voice turned icy. “Felicia, anger isn’t an excuse for threats.”
Felicia forced a bitter smile, her voice barely a whisper. “I’m serious, Seymour. I’m done with you and your family.”
He laughed bitterly, anger flashing in his eyes. “Done? What ‘suffering‘ could my family possibly have caused you?”
He suppressed his anger. “You just gave birth today. I’ll assume those harsh words came from exhaustion.
“It’s late. Rest now. I’ll visit the baby tomorrow.
“As for the caregiver, I’ll bring a trustworthy one in the morning.”
Seymour left the room without letting her respond.
Emma’s heart ached to see Felicia’s distress.
Chapter 12
“Mrs. Lucero, those people are awful!”
Felicia managed a weak smile. “They are.”
“Don’t get upset during your recovery! It’ll harm your health!”
Emma, old enough to be her mother, thought, “If my daughter were mistreated like this, I would cry my eyes out.”
She vowed firmly, “Mrs. Lucero, I’ll care for the baby while you recover. Deal with everything else after your postpartum rest.”
“Thank you,” Felicia whispered.
It was strange how a day–old stranger could show such kindness, while those she’d known forever wielded only cold blades.
Maybe those who weren’t loved deserved suffering.
On the drive home, Seymour’s silence thickened the air.
Even Yvonne was scared.
“Sey… The due date is next week! How could we know she’d deliver early?
“Besides, it’s her second child. The doctor exaggerated the risks!”
Earlier, Connor, Felicia’s obstetrician, had berated them in the elevator, shaming them for their neglect.
In the backseat, Ambrose frowned. “Dad, does having a baby hurt a lot? Did Mom hurt this much when I was born?”
