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My husband slapped our eight-year-old daughter's hand for taking two strips of bacon, then smiled and let his nephew order a $149 breakfast. When I demanded to know how he could possibly justify that, his mother stroked the boy's hair and said, "He's carrying the family name forward." Then my husband looked straight at me and added, "Maybe you wouldn't be so jealous if you'd given me a son." I looked at my little girl hiding her trembling hand beneath the table, and something inside me went completely still. For the first time in our marriage, I didn't argue, beg, or try to make him understand. I simply stood up and said, "Lily, get your coat. We're leaving."