My Mother-In-Law’s Newborn is Actually My Husband's!

My mother-in-law just had a baby. She expects us to legally adopt him, put him on our health insurance, and raise him as our own. Why on earth should we? It’s not like Ethan and I can’t have kids. When I refused, she threatened to kill herself. But here’s the kicker—I’m pregnant too. Then, she hired a "night nanny" who was a little too perfect. She didn’t just take care of the baby; she breastfed him. She even slept with him in her arms every night. She didn't act like a nanny. She acted like the baby's biological mother. And then, I uncovered the sickening truth. They were actually trying to force me to abort my own baby! I suddenly got a call from my mother-in-law, Brenda. "Stella, come pick me up from the hospital. I’m going to stay at your place for a while." Brenda was in the hospital? Why hadn't Ethan mentioned a single word about this to me? I quickly packed my things and rushed to the address she gave me. St. Mary’s Women’s Hospital. I frowned. This didn't fit Brenda at all. She was almost sixty. Having a baby? Was this some kind of sick joke? Following Brenda's directions, I walked up to the postpartum ward. The door was ajar. Brenda was sitting on the bed in a hospital gown, a soft beanie on her head. And in her arms, she was holding a newborn! A baby! Where did a baby come from? "Brenda, whose baby is this?" Brenda’s tone was sharp and impatient. "Whose do you think? Mine! Since you refused to give me a grandchild, I had to make one myself to carry on the family line. Now he's yours to raise." What?! What kind of twisted logic was this? My anger surged straight to my brain. Using every ounce of self-control, I demanded, "Brenda! You had a baby? Where is Richard? Does Ethan know about this?" Just then, my father-in-law, Richard, walked in. "Honey, we’re good to go. The discharge papers are all signed." Brenda immediately started bossing me around, telling me to pack her bags. I was too stunned by the sight of the baby to react. I completely missed the calculating, greedy looks Brenda and Richard exchanged. I quickly stepped out and called my husband. "Ethan, your mother just had a baby. Did you know about this?" Ethan stammered, instantly giving away that I was the only one kept in the dark. "So... what is she saying now?" he asked nervously. "She wants to move into our house! Did you guys plan this together?" I raised my voice on purpose. If he dared to agree to this, I was going to lose it. But before Ethan could even reply on the phone, Richard started yelling at the top of his lungs in the hallway. "Stella! What is your problem? Your mother went through so much pain at her age just to give you guys a child, and you’re planning to just abandon her?" Brenda chimed in dramatically, "Exactly! If you dare kick us out, you’re heartless! I’ll sue you for elder abandonment!" Her voice was strong and loud. She didn't sound like a woman who had just given birth at all. But I was so blinded by rage over this sudden "brother-in-law" that I didn't notice how weirdly energetic she was. I took a deep breath and roared into the phone, "Ethan! Get to the hospital right now! If you don't explain this to me, we are done!" But all I could do was vent my anger on Ethan. Did I dare to actually scream back at his crazy parents? We had been married for two years, and I had long known how unreasonable his parents were. I hated myself for being so blind to marry Ethan in the first place. He was a total mama’s boy. If his mother told him to jump, he'd ask how high. Their whole family was a bunch of Oscar-level actors. Fortunately, Ethan had always been sweet to me, and we didn't live with his parents, which was the only reason we had managed to keep the peace. But a baby is a human being, not some stray puppy you can just take in on a whim. Richard got in my face, pointing a finger at me. "Stella, how dare you speak to Ethan like that? Do you have any respect for your husband? Is this how you treat him at home?" "Exactly! In our family, the husband is the king. A wife like you just needs to be taught a lesson!" Brenda added. I finally got it. She had clearly never been put in her place. "Richard, Brenda, this is between Ethan and me. Please stay out of it." Interfering in their son’s marriage—didn't they feel any shame? "What did you just say?!" Richard puffed out his chest, trying to intimidate me. "We are family! I am your elder! What's wrong with teaching you a few rules? A woman shouldn't be shouting at her husband like a maniac!" He was trying to play the dominant patriarch, but right then, Ethan finally arrived.

How did he get here so fast? I looked at him with suspicion. Ethan rubbed his nose uncomfortably—his classic tell when he was lying. "Uh, I was just meeting a client nearby, so I came right over. Are we ready? Let’s go." He reached for the bags. I didn't have the energy to argue with him right then. "Fine! Let’s drive your parents back to their house!" Brenda immediately bolted upright from the bed. "Of course we're going to your place! I need to recover. Who's going to cook and look after me at my house?" I stared at Brenda. She suddenly shrunk back, hiding behind Richard as if she was scared of me. Richard chimed in, "Where else would we go? Your apartment is huge and has spare rooms. Plus, the baby is so small and Brenda is weak. How can she manage alone?" I saw right through them. This was a carefully planned ambush. They knew I would never agree if they asked beforehand. Ethan looked incredibly torn. "Babe, look at her. It’s going to be a disaster if they go back to their place. My dad’s back is bad, so he can't help. They’re my parents. I can't just leave them to suffer." Richard let out a few timely, theatrical coughs. It's always easy to let trouble in, but impossible to get rid of it. "No!" I said firmly. "We both work full-time. We don't have time to take care of a newborn. If they stay with us, the baby will cry all night, and we won't get any sleep. How are we supposed to work?" Richard’s face darkened as he stared at Ethan. "Ethan, this is your mother and your baby brother." I had no choice but to compromise slightly. "We'll hire a professional night nanny! We'll pay for it!" "No way," Brenda snapped. "Nannies are strangers. We don't trust them. Besides, a nanny can't handle both me and the baby. It’s too much work." Then what about Richard? He was perfectly capable of moving around. Why couldn't he help his wife of thirty years? Before I could object further, a nurse walked in to clear the room. "Room 18, we need this bed cleared for the next patient. Please pack up." Ethan grabbed my hand. "Babe, please. Let them stay for just one month so my mom can recover. I’ll hire a nanny to do all the work so it won't bother you. We’ll just be there to help out in case of emergencies." Seeing my icy expression, Ethan quickly added, "Just one month. I promise, they won't bother you. Once the month is up, they go home. I swear." With the nurse pushing us out, I couldn't resolve this right now. I had to swallow my anger and let them come to our place first.

Because of this baby, my life was turned completely upside down. The moment we walked through the door, Brenda headed straight for our master bedroom. "This room is nice and big, has great sunlight, and a king-sized bed. Perfect for us." I took a step forward to stop her. Ethan quickly pulled me back. "Babe, it’s just for a month. Let them have it. For the sake of peace, let’s not fight over this." Fine. I would endure it. Richard didn't lift a finger. He sat straight down on our sofa, turned on the TV, and didn't say a word. Ethan and I had to unpack all their bags, make the bed, and arrange the baby stuff. We worked for over an hour. During that time, Richard didn't move an inch. He actually ordered Ethan to pour him water twice and wash some fruit for him. He was acting like a king in my own home. "When is dinner ready? Are you trying to starve me?" Richard grumbled. That did it. I grabbed the remote and slammed the TV off. Ethan quickly stepped between us. "Dad, we’re really busy here. Why don't you go downstairs and grab some takeout? We haven't eaten either." Richard held out his hand. "Give me cash." Ethan pulled out a hundred-dollar bill and handed it over to get rid of him. I went into the kitchen to make some simple oatmeal. Just then, the baby woke up and started wailing. I didn't know how Brenda was soothing him, but the crying wouldn't stop. I couldn't help but walk over to check. Brenda was holding the baby, clumsily patting his back, but the baby was screaming hysterically. "Brenda, is he hungry?" "Uh... I don't know," she muttered. She didn't know? Her son Ethan was thirty years old, and she didn't know how to tell if a baby was hungry? This family was utterly useless. "Ethan! Go make some formula!" I called out and walked away. They were clearly trying to bait me into taking care of the baby, but I wasn't going to fall for it. Soon, I heard Brenda's voice from the room. "Oh, Ethan, you’re a man. How do you know how to do these things?" I ignored it, shut the kitchen door, and focused on cooking. They could play their games all they wanted, but I was going to eat and go to work. They had calculated everything. But if I refused to play along, let’s see what they would do. I made up my mind right then. For the next month, I would work late every single day. I was not touching that baby. I quickly made a vegetable soup, fried some rice, and set the table. As I went to call them for dinner, I heard Brenda whispering to Ethan. "Ethan, she's not helping at all. What do we do? You can't expect me to actually look after this kid. My back is killing me." "Mom, give it time. Don't rush. Stella isn't heartless. Once she sees how much you're struggling, she’ll step in. Don't worry." *Wow. Thank you, Ethan. So because I’m not 'heartless,' I’m supposed to play maid to your whole family?* I didn't even bother calling them to eat. I ate my portion, packed my bag, and got ready for work. Just then, Richard finally returned. It took him longer to buy takeout than it took me to cook a meal. He was holding a bottle of whiskey in one hand, a box of fried chicken, and some sides in the other. He was incredibly selfish. "Richard, my mother-in-law can't eat fried chicken and heavy food right now." "Hmph! That's what you're here for, isn't it? You expect an old man like me to cook for her?" I didn't even want to look at him. I walked to the bedroom. "Ethan, I’m leaving. I have a lot of work to finish at the office this afternoon." The door flew open. "Babe, wait! I have to go to work this afternoon too!" "And? I already made dinner. Your mom can eat that." Ethan’s face instantly brightened. He wrapped his arms around me and kissed my cheek. "You’re the best, babe. Thank you so much." I gave him a tight smile and left. At that moment, I was incredibly grateful that I had a career. When we first got married, Ethan’s family tried to pressure me to quit my job and focus on getting pregnant. I refused. Having a job didn't stop me from getting pregnant. Plus, we were young, and there was no rush. His parents had been extremely passive-aggressive about it—until I showed them my pay stub. I made a third more than Ethan. Before that, Ethan made $9,000 a month, which his parents bragged about to all their relatives, acting like I had struck gold by marrying him. But when they saw my $12,000 monthly income, they finally shut up.

I didn't rush home after work. I had just taken on a new project and needed to write a proposal. I decided to work overtime in the peace of my office. At 7:00 PM, Ethan called. "Babe, when are you coming home?" I sipped my coffee. "I’m working late tonight on a big project. Don't wait up for dinner." I hung up. At 8:00 PM, Ethan called again. "Babe, it's getting late. It's not safe. Please come home." I looked at the clock. "Oh, it's already past eight? I'm so exhausted. This project determines my year-end bonus, Ethan. I have to finish it." Ethan went silent. I thought he had hung up, but then I heard the baby screaming bloody murder in the background. All he said was, "Okay... don't push yourself too hard." I would rather suffer at work than go home and be treated like a slave. At 9:30 PM, Ethan called yet again, sounding panicked. "Stella, the baby has a fever. I have to take him to the ER. Can you please come home right now?" Hearing that the baby was sick, my heart softened. I guess it was just natural maternal instinct. "Don't panic. I'm on my way." But the moment I unlocked the front door, a wave of fury hit me so hard I wanted to burn the whole place down.

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