Fifteen days postpartum. My husband stood there, waving a DNA report in my face, accusing me of cheating and demanding a divorce. He wanted me to walk away with nothing, penniless, so he could be with the woman he always wanted… his old flame. But me? I just wanted them to get what they deserved. 1 My health wasn't great to begin with, and I'd hemorrhaged badly during labor. So, I ended up stuck in the hospital for over two weeks. Today was finally discharge day. I was half-sitting up in bed, nursing my bundled-up son. Looking at his tiny, pink face, all the pain and soreness from childbirth seemed to just melt away. Compared to the agony of labor, this felt like pure bliss. I had parents who adored me, and a husband who was gentle, humble, and treated me like his whole world. These past two weeks in the hospital, Ethan had been incredibly attentive, even hiring professionals to help look after me. They say marriage is a woman's second chance at life. I felt so lucky I hadn't married the wrong guy. Just now, we were running low on those giant postpartum pads. Before I could even mention it, Ethan had already gone out to buy more. "Honey, where are the pads you bought?" I asked, maybe a little playfully pouty, when he came back holding only a single document. "You're worried about pads right now? Take a good look at this!" His face was all wrong, fury radiating off him. He slammed the papers down hard, right onto my face. My baby, startled in my arms, burst into loud wails. The pages scattered across the bed. Bold letters jumped out at me: Ethan Carter and Leo Carter – Paternity Exclusion. 2 Ethan Carter is my husband. Leo Carter is my newborn son. My mind reeled. A thousand questions, zero answers. I knew, absolutely knew, Leo had to be Ethan's son. I'd never, ever cheated on him. The baby had to be his. What could possibly have gone wrong? "There has to be a mistake, Ethan, you have to believe me. Maybe the lab messed up the results..." My words seemed to ignite him. Smack! "How long are you going to keep lying to me?" He actually hit me, right across the face. He roared, "You cheating bitch! After everything I've done for you! How can there be a mistake when the report is right here?" "You could do a hundred DNA tests, and they'd all say the same thing!" Ethan was practically hysterical. "Divorce! Get ready to leave with absolutely nothing!" He threw out a parting shot – "Don't even think about coming back to our house" – and stormed out. Suddenly, the doorway to my room was crowded with onlookers. People who knew nothing started whispering. "So shameless, looks like she cheated on her husband." "Wow, he got played. What is wrong with people?" "So many women have no self-respect these days, no idea how to be a wife." Hearing the gossip outside, I buried my head in the blankets, tears of humiliation streaming down my face. 3 Not long after, my parents arrived to take me home. I knew Ethan must have called them. Dad looked furious. The first thing he said when he walked in was, "You're a disgrace." Mom just sat on the edge of the bed and took my hand. My father is a well-respected author, a man known for his integrity, caring more about literary pursuits than money. My mother built a successful business empire through years of shrewd investments. They were prominent people, and now their daughter had brought shame upon them. Seeing the discomfort and disappointment on their faces felt like a stone lodged in my chest. The tears I'd been holding back finally broke free. I choked out, "Mom, Dad, I didn't do it." Back at my parents' house, Dad, despite his anger, spared no expense hiring the best postpartum nurse for me. I also asked him to send samples of Ethan's and Leo's hair to several different labs for paternity testing. But it was pointless. Every single result came back identical: Ethan Carter and Leo Carter – Paternity Exclusion. I felt like I was choking on bitterness, completely unable to explain the truth. Then, one day, something the nurse said clicked everything into place. 4 "Life is so much better now, isn't it? Babies have everything they need, food, clothes… not like the old days. Back then, you were lucky just to get enough to eat." The nurse was changing the baby's diaper. "It was tough back then, hospitals could be chaotic. You even heard stories about people desperate for a boy swapping babies..." Swapping babies... Swapping... I froze, the baby bottle I'd just prepared slipping from my hand and clattering to the floor. How had I not thought of that? A few days later, I was sobbing uncontrollably, staring at another DNA report. Ava Miller and Leo Carter – Maternity Exclusion. The baby in my arms, the one I carried for ten months, the one I nearly died bringing into the world through a traumatic hemorrhage… wasn't biologically mine. Looking at this infant, not even a month old, his features resembled neither mine nor Ethan's. But where was my baby? Who was behind this nightmare? 5 I bit my finger until it bled, forcing myself to calm down. Think. Cui bono? Who benefits? My eyes fell on the divorce papers Ethan had someone deliver. The answer was blindingly obvious. I called my childhood friend, Mike. He’s a tech genius. I begged him for a favor. Before the baby was born, I'd installed security cameras all over our house. Ethan knew about them; the idea was so he could see me and the baby while he was at work. But ever since our fight, he'd changed the password. I couldn't access the feed on my phone anymore. Mike comes from money, never really applied himself in school, but he's a natural-born hacker. He worked his magic. Soon, my phone was connected to the home cameras again, but cleverly hidden, leaving no trace of my device accessing the system. A moment later, the feed from our house appeared on my screen. Our newlywed home… "Why do you still have cameras up everywhere? It's kind of weird," said a woman lounging in Ethan's arms. It was Chloe, Ethan's old college flame. "Don't worry about it. Only my phone is connected. Besides, we can watch the replays of us later… pretty hot, right?" "Stop it…" Chloe playfully tapped his chest with her fist. Ethan pushed her down onto the living room sofa and… I slammed my phone shut, reeling from the shock. I couldn't believe Ethan, always so proper in public, even reserved with me, had this disgusting, sleazy side. And Chloe, his supposed "one that got away"… how did they even get back together? Where was my poor baby? All these questions swirled in my head, threatening to overload my brain, causing a splitting headache. "Shoulda known you'd break my heart…" My ringtone jolted me back to reality. "Hello, Ava. I suggest you sign the divorce papers quickly. Let's just end this amicably," Ethan's voice came through the phone. "The baby was just born. I have the right to refuse the divorce." Until I figured everything out, I couldn't just hand over the assets we'd built together. Not like this. "Refuse? Then I'll sue! Don't make this ugly for everyone!" Ethan, dropping the gentle act he always used with me, yelled into the phone. So, all that politeness was just a performance. Hanging up, I glanced back at the monitor, seeing them tangled together. A wave of nausea washed over me. "You were amazing, baby," Chloe purred, tracing circles on Ethan's chest with her finger. "But we can't let her mess up our plans." "Don't worry," Ethan smirked. "I've been planning this for over a year. The goal is to kick her out with nothing. The kid isn't mine, no blood relation. Even if it goes to court, I'll win this, 100%!" "Maybe we should go another round…" Ethan's lewd chuckle came through the speaker. 6 Ethan. My husband of three years. We met in college, both art majors, different classes though. He was talented, incredibly gifted with oil painting. But talented people are often arrogant. Chloe was from his hometown, same small town that they both escaped. Neither of their families had much money. Halfway through senior year, Ethan finally worked up the nerve to tell Chloe how he felt, pursued her for a long time. But Chloe knew Ethan couldn't give her the life she wanted. She refused to be bogged down by everyday struggles. The day before graduation, she showed up at the final party on the arm of her boyfriend, an art dealer. The man was twenty years older than her, and frankly, unattractive. But she didn't care. He had money, connections – enough to make Chloe's dreams come true. After graduation, Ethan and I ended up at the same advertising design firm. Over time, feelings developed. After he met my parents, he learned about my family's background. He wanted me to back him in starting his own business, an art gallery. I lamented seeing his talent wasted in a corporate design job. Blinded by love, I begged my parents for ages. Of course, they refused. I threw tantrums, broke things. Threatened a hunger strike, blackmailing them with my own well-being, the way kids always know how to manipulate their parents. Finally. Mom gave in, secretly funding us with half a million dollars to start the gallery with Ethan. Those early days were brutal. We were so busy we barely slept three hours a night. No time for proper meals, we bought instant ramen by the case, grabbing bites whenever we felt hunger pangs. But the hard work paid off. The gallery thrived. Well-known artists were clamoring to exhibit with us, willing to pay top dollar. Because works shown in our gallery sold for high prices. Ethan finally had more time to focus on creating his own series of oil paintings. Eventually, we got married, surrounded by friends and family. The gallery we built together essentially made us financially independent. But life is never smooth sailing forever. At an art exhibition, about two years before I had the baby, Chloe reappeared. Word was, things hadn't worked out well for her. She never achieved her dream of being a painter and was currently working arranging displays at some small gallery. Just seeing her stand there, his old flame, was enough to eclipse any place I held in my husband's heart. Looking back, I think that chance encounter probably reignited something deep inside Ethan. 5 [Note: Section number retained from original] At a coffee shop, Mike had called me urgently this morning. "Ava, look at this." As soon as I sat down, Mike eagerly pulled out his phone and played a video for me. The timestamp showed September 10th. The day my baby was born. While I was asleep, Ethan was out in the hallway holding the baby, chatting with the man from the next bed. They casually swapped babies, supposedly to compare their weights. To any outsider, it would look completely normal. But they never swapped back before returning to their rooms. Watching the video, I looked at Mike, lost in thought. Because of COVID restrictions, only one family member was allowed for support during labor and delivery. Also, fewer women were giving birth during those couple of years. I had originally booked a private room, but just before I was admitted, there was a sudden change. Ethan told me the hospital said they were short on rooms, and we'd have to share a double. I was annoyed at first; childbirth involves a lot of private moments, and sharing felt inconvenient. Luckily, the couple in the next bed seemed nice enough, quiet and unassuming. Except the man, Roy, walked with a noticeable limp, and the woman, Tammy, barely spoke a word to me. I couldn't understand why Roy would agree to switch his own biological child. "Ava, you're wondering too, right? Why don't we just go check it out?" Mike interrupted my thoughts, pulling up the couple's information. He had their home address. It was in a small town in the next state over, about a hundred miles away. This only made me more curious. Why travel so far to give birth in the City? And why check out just three days after delivery? 6 [Note: Section number retained from original] Mike drove me for over an hour, finally reaching the couple's house. Weeds grew haphazardly by the door. The dirt yard was a mess of mud from recent rain; there was barely a place to step without sinking. I knocked on the weathered wooden door, green moss clinging to its base. A woman's voice, sounding very young, answered, "Who is it? Come on in." Pushing the door open, I stepped into a dim interior. It was hard to make out the expression on the young woman's face. I cleared my throat and handed her the DNA report I was carrying. "Tammy? Do you remember me? We were in the hospital room next to each other when we had our babies." She took the papers, clearly confused about why we were there. "I think… I think our babies might have been switched." Looking at the small, dark-skinned baby in her arms, barely a month old, tears welled up in my eyes. I almost broke down crying right there. On the table nearby, there wasn't even a decent can of formula… "You… that's impossible!" she snapped, defensive. Just then, her husband, Roy, came home. He was carrying a frail-looking toddler, maybe three years old. Seeing me, Roy's face fell unnaturally. He grabbed a nearby shovel and started trying to herd Mike and me out the door. I couldn't hold back anymore. I sank to my knees in the mud, sobbing, "Please, just give me my baby back!" Thankfully, Mike is six-foot-two and easily restrained the man. Finally, the four of us sat down to talk calmly. The man was Roy, his wife Tammy. They'd had their first son, Joey, when they were young and reckless. When Joey was one and a half, he was diagnosed with a serious blood disorder. Without treatment, he could die. The staggering medical bills wiped out their already meager savings. Roy had also injured his leg badly in a construction accident. When Ethan found them, Tammy was already a month pregnant with their second child and was planning to get an abortion. At that time, I was two months pregnant. Ethan promised them $150,000 if they went along with his plan, swearing he would take good care of their biological child. The young couple hesitated but finally agreed. They needed the money to save their older son. On the day I went into labor, Tammy wasn't even due yet. Ethan bribed someone at the hospital to induce her labor with Pitocin. But afterwards, Ethan only gave them $15,000. He claimed the plan wasn't complete yet and he'd pay the rest after he divorced me. Faced with Ethan's excuses, Roy felt powerless. Hearing this, my heart bled. Ethan was a monster. Willing to trade away his own son just for money. And Tammy's baby, forced into the world prematurely… "Tammy," I said softly, "we're both mothers. I understand you love your son desperately. What Ethan did is beyond wrong, it's unnatural. I'll transfer $120,000 to you right now to help Joey. And I need you to do me a favor. When this is over, I'll give you another $150,000." I knew if Ethan could buy them with money, so could I. Especially now, when they desperately needed the funds. The young couple looked at each other, then nodded in agreement. That evening, I transferred the $120,000 to their account and moved Tammy and the baby to another apartment I owned, setting them up comfortably. Back in my own place, holding my real son, the son I'd finally gotten back, a plan for revenge started taking root in my mind…
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