One month before my due date, I overheard my mother-in-law and husband whispering in the hallway.
My mother-in-law’s voice was sharp with frustration. "I've had it checked multiple times, and every test confirms it's a girl! I even gave her the secret medicine to change the gender, but it didn't work. What a waste!"
My husband’s tone was calm, almost indifferent, as he tried to placate her. “It’s fine, Mom. Sophia and I only have this one child. Even if it’s a girl, she can still inherit the family assets.”
But my mother-in-law scoffed, her contempt cutting through the air. “A married woman is like spilled water—useless! Without a penis, she’s not one of us. What’s the point?”
My husband chuckled, his voice carrying a twisted pride. “Mom, do you remember my first love from the countryside? The truth is, I never broke things off with her. She’s pregnant now too, and judging by the size of her hips, it’s definitely a boy.”
My mother-in-law gasped, then broke into an elated laugh. “Really? I’m going to have a grandson? Oh, this is wonderful!”
She leaned closer, lowering her voice conspiratorially. “We can’t let our golden child suffer. We’ll switch him with that girl she’s carrying. No one will ever know.”
Half a month later, I woke in agony, the pain in my abdomen signaling something was wrong. I was rushed to the hospital and underwent an emergency C-section.
When I woke, my mother-in-law stood before me, her face glowing with triumph as she held a baby boy. “Sophia, you’re amazing! You gave birth to a big, healthy boy—8.8 pounds! What a blessing you’ve brought us!”
I stared at her, the lie written all over her face. But I didn’t say a word.
I played along with their charade for eighteen years.
——
After my confinement period ended, my husband hired a confinement nanny for me.
To my shock, the nanny turned out to be none other than his childhood sweetheart, Olivia Carter. It didn’t take long for me to piece everything together. She had just given birth herself, and I realized she was the mother of the boy my mother-in-law had switched with my daughter.
I pretended to be dissatisfied with her appointment, pointing out that she was still breastfeeding and might not be suitable for the job. But my mother-in-law dismissed me with a cold smile. “Exactly why she’s perfect,” she said. “She has plenty of milk, so you don’t even have to bother feeding.”
Her words confirmed what I already suspected. They had orchestrated this to ensure that Olivia, the biological mother of their “golden child,” could be close to him. My mother-in-law’s actions were clear—she had brought Olivia into my home under the guise of being a nanny, ensuring the boy she adored would be cared for by his “real” mother.
I agreed without a fight.
Olivia moved into my villa with my switched daughter in tow.
At first, she was cautious, almost meek. She performed her duties quietly, always polite and respectful. But as time passed and she saw that I didn’t challenge her, she grew bolder.
She began going out shopping with my mother-in-law, laughing and playing with my husband and the boy she believed was her son. It was as if she had taken my place, living the life of the mistress of the house. I saw it all, but I said nothing. Letting them believe they had the upper hand was part of my plan.
Olivia didn’t bother to hide her favoritism toward her son. She doted on him constantly, while neglecting my daughter. The neglect soon turned into cruelty.
One day, I found my daughter crying inconsolably, her diaper soaked and unchanged for hours, causing her to develop severe eczema. Olivia brushed off my anger with a dismissive laugh, claiming she was treating it with a “home remedy.” I watched in horror as she wiped the inflamed skin with salt water, my daughter’s cries echoing through the room.
When I confronted her, she snapped, slapping my daughter across the face. Her voice was venomous. “Stop crying, you little beast! Do you think this is your home? You’re nothing but a burden, living under someone else’s roof!”
Her words seared into my memory. She leaned in, her tone dropping to a threatening whisper. “If you disturb the young sir’s sleep again, I’ll cut out your tongue.”
Olivia must have taken great pleasure in abusing someone else's daughter right in front of her biological mother. I didn’t intervene too much—just a few simple words of persuasion.
However, this only made her feel more frustrated, prompting her to abuse her daughter even more outrageously.
She obviously had plenty of milk, enough to feed two children, but her only concern was ensuring her son was full. She never breastfed her daughter herself.
Instead, she would pump the milk and dilute it with a lot of water before giving it to her daughter. Later, even that wasn’t enough to satisfy her disturbed mentality, so she shockingly began to add her son’s urine to the milk.
This was almost unbearable for me to witness. With a cold expression, I asked her, "Olivia, how can you do this to your own daughter?"
