The next second, the boy collapsed to the floor.
His body was burning with fever.
Panicked, I shouted toward the house, telling someone to call an ambulance. Seth saw us, stood up, and walked over.
Without warning, he yanked the boy up and threw him down hard.
“What are you doing?!” I froze in shock.
Seth curled his lips into a cruel smile.
“How can such a filthy kid be allowed in our home?”
He kicked the boy several times and raised his hand, ready to strike him.
I grabbed his arm in disbelief. “Seth! How can you bully someone so helpless?!”
Seth’s expression twisted. He shook me off forcefully.
“You don’t get to teach me anything! You’re not even my real mother!” he yelled.
My heart sank. I knew I hadn’t been around for him enough, but I never had a choice.
Still furious, Seth tried to kick the boy again.
I couldn’t hold back anymore—I slapped him.
The sound echoed across the living room.
Garry stormed in to scold me, and Natasha rushed over to check on Seth.
“Jane! How dare you hit your own son for the sake of someone else!” she snapped.
My hands trembled as I stood frozen, stunned by what I had done.
Seth glared at me with hatred. Seeing me still shielding the injured boy, he suddenly grabbed the fruit knife from the table.
“Go to hell!” he screamed.
The blade plunged into the boy’s body multiple times.
Blood quickly spread across the floor.
I gasped, paralyzed for a moment, then shoved Seth away.
As the bleeding worsened, I turned to Garry in desperation. “Drive us to the hospital—now!”
He scowled. “Let that little beast die! But how could you hit Seth like that?”
Clenching my jaw, I lifted the boy into my arms and ran out the door.
I sprinted nonstop until I found a car willing to help.
Thankfully, the hospital wasn’t far. Watching the boy being rushed into emergency, my knees gave out.
Moments later, the doctor emerged with a grim look. “The child’s lost a dangerous amount of blood. He needs a transfusion immediately.”
When he mentioned the blood type, I froze.
It was the same as mine.
A wild, impossible thought struck me.
Later, I returned home in a daze, clutching the paternity test results in my hand—only to hear laughter from behind the door.
“Seth, you did great,” Natasha said, kissing his forehead. “That little beast deserved to die.”
“Honey, what if Jane finds out the boy is actually hers? If she stops giving us money, then what?”
“Let’s not tell her yet,” Garry said coldly. “Her bank card was nearly empty last time—she must be hiding funds. Once we get it all, we’ll throw her and that brat out.”
I stood outside, frozen as if lightning had struck me.
Every muscle is locked. My blood turned to ice.
Then I flung the door open.
Like a madwoman, I rushed to Seth and yanked up his sleeve.
His arm was smooth—unmarked.
Tears streamed down my face. I collapsed in sobs.
“Garry! That’s your real son! He was dying! How could you be so heartless? How could you lie to me?”
Garry scoffed.
“What son of mine? I only have one child—Seth,” he said coldly.
Natasha chimed in mockingly. “You think that boy’s yours? He’s obviously the nanny’s kid!”
Still crying, I handed Garry the paternity test, but he tossed it aside without even looking.
Natasha picked it up instead and let out a theatrical gasp.
“Oh my god, Jane! Don’t tell me—you had a child with another man behind Garry’s back?”
