His Belated Love for the Abandoned Ex-Wife Chapter 312: A Name Dispute

Beatrice spoke softly, secretly wiping a tear from the corner of her eye. "It's all Julian's doing. He must have broken your heart—done something awful to drive you away for good."

Watching her grandmother cry, Iris felt a deep pang of guilt.

Of everyone in the Everhart family, Julian's grandparents had always shown her the most warmth.

After his grandfather passed, Beatrice had only grown kinder.

"I'm so sorry, Grandma," Iris said quietly. "I never meant to make you worry."

Beatrice dabbed her eyes, then smiled warmly and took Iris' hand. "Come on inside, lunch is ready."

Iris set Harper down and slipped her arm through Beatrice's.

Harper naturally grabbed her greatgrandmother's other hand, and the three of them walked toward the house side by side.

The small crowd near the entrance parted politely to let them through.

In the spacious living room, a large round table was laid with an array of regional specialties.

May was just bringing out another dish when she greeted Iris warmly. "Iris, honey, it's been years. You look lovelier than ever—I'd never guess you're a mom already."

Iris felt a blush rise to her cheeks and offered a shy, tightlipped smile. "It's good to see you, May."

"Have a seat, please," May beamed. "Julian called me last night and specially asked me to go up into the hills for the freshest wild asparagus. I made all your favorites."

Iris paused, then slowly took her seat, glancing toward Julian beside her. His expression was as cool and unreadable as ever.

Yet inside, she was deeply touched.

He'd actually remembered—even taken care to tell May ahead of time.

Once everyone was seated, an uneasy tension settled over the table. Aside from Beatrice, the older relatives wore stiff, unapproving looks.

Julian lifted Harper onto his lap and began introducing her, starting with Beatrice.

Harper was bright and cheerful, with an easy smile. Wellmannered and charming, she greeted each relative politely as Julian named them.

Then Frederick spoke up, his tone icy. "Is she just called Harper?"

Iris' chest tightened. She still carried a quiet, smoldering resentment toward Frederick.

Three years ago, he was almost certainly the one who had wanted Harper gone. If Brandon hadn't stepped in, her daughter wouldn't be here.

Iris clenched her fists under the table and stayed silent.

Harper, however, turned to Frederick with a sunny grin. "Grandpa, my full name is Harper Whitlow."

Frederick frowned, his face stern with the unyielding air of a patriarch. "Since when does an Everhart take an outsider's surname? Change it. She should carry her father's name—Harper Everhart."

Harper looked utterly confused.

Iris took a slow breath, digging her nails into her palms to keep her composure.

Julian settled Harper back in her chair and said mildly, "Who exactly are you giving orders to?"

"To you, her parents," Frederick retorted. "Change the child's last name. She takes her father's."

"Fine," Julian said evenly. All eyes turned to him, surprised.

Was he actually agreeing? That wasn't like him at all.

For three years, Julian had done everything short of openly clashing with his father—and now, with Iris back, he was suddenly being compliant?

When Iris heard that "fine", a flare of anger shot through her.

But before anyone could react, Julian added calmly, "After Thanksgiving, I'll go to the county clerk and change my last name to match my daughter's. Julian Whitlow."

Frederick's face flushed with anger. "Preposterous."

Vivian quickly laid a hand on his arm and murmured, "Frederick, don't... don't pick a fight with him. You know how it ends."

She had always been wary of her stepson.

He was the kind of man who could dismantle a family business, absorb competitors, and turn a household upside down until they had nothing left—the kind who'd leave you packing for a quiet retirement far from the city.

"What century are you living in, Frederick?" Beatrice cut in sharply. "That kind of thinking is outdated. A child doesn't have to take the father's name. Harper Whitlow is just fine."

Then she turned to Julian. "And you—must you always push until your father has a stroke?"

Just then, Caleb quipped toward Iris with a teasing grin, "Well, look at you—the miracle cure. My brother's been halfinsane, and you show up and suddenly he's almost functional."

Iris gave him a puzzled look.

Beatrice pointed a finger at Caleb. "Hush now. Don't stir trouble."

"Who's stirring trouble?" Caleb held up his hands innocently. "Isn't it obvious? For three years at Rosehill Estate, anywhere he stayed had to be sterilized like an OR. Everything in its exact place, not an inch out of line. If something was off even a little, forget it. Drove us all up the wall. The house staff turned over more than a dozen times. Even you couldn't take it, Grandma—you and May moved back to the countryside."

Jenny nodded in agreement. "Absolutely. I was too scared to even visit Rosehill anymore."

Gloria added under her breath, "Thank goodness we moved out too. No one could live with that germophobia and OCD of his."

Caleb, as if finally having an audience, locked eyes with Iris and poured out his grievances. "If I go to my own brother's house, I have to change shoes, change clothes, scrub my hands, then sanitize my whole body just to sit on the couch. The glass I drink from has to be a specific disposable cup—disposable cutlery, disposable plates. He treats me like I'm carrying the plague."