A Malicious Swap

Once, I was brainwashed into believing my sole purpose was to be a dutiful housewife and mother.

But after losing my parents and husband, I had no choice but to shoulder the burden of the company. Thus, 20 years as its leader made picking it up again effortless.

The next day, I left the hospital with my baby in my arms, only to see Doris with a sour expression.

She berated, "Are you seriously throwing a tantrum because I asked you to wash some dishes? God knows if you were having a secret affair! I wouldn't want a daughter-in-law like you!"

I ignored her, but that only made Doris more vicious.

"Please, stop acting like some pampered heiress. You're a walking curse who caused your parents and husband's deaths. There's no one to spoil you now!"

I walked past her without a word, got into the car, and drove off.

In the rearview mirror, Doris was stomping her foot and yelling, "Hey! I haven't gotten in yet!"

By the time Doris and Randy managed to scrape together enough coins to take the taxi home from the hospital, their belongings were already piled at the villa's entrance.

I had security stop them at the gate.

"Lana Jepsen! What do you think you're doing?"

Doris shrieked, "Frank hasn't been gone for long, and you're already kicking us out? Don't forget that it's your fault he's dead! Aren't you afraid he'll come to haunt you at night?"

"Frank died because he crashed his car. What does that have to do with me?" I retorted.

The mention of Frank did not stir any feelings in my heart.

"I let you live here because you were his parents. Now, it's time for you to leave."

Randy's expression darkened as he glanced at the baby in my arms. Mistaking her for Christine's child, he bellowed, "She's Frank's only bloodline! You have no right to separate us!"

Only? I sneered.

These two never once saw my daughter as part of their family.

I replied, "She doesn't carry the Turner name. Her name is Joyce Jepsen, and she's the most precious gift the heavens have given me."

"What? Didn't we say to name her Hazel Turner? Changing her name is one thing, but why should the Turner family's descendant take your last name?" Doris argued.

I cast her a sidelong glance and said, "Why not? She's my child. Get out of here if you're done."

Doris was trembling violently as she scolded, "I knew you were putting on an act all this while. Frank's only been dead a few days, yet you've turned your back on us and even severed his bloodline!"

In the end, Doris threw herself to the ground. She resorted to throwing a tantrum. "You married Frank, so this house belongs to him. What gives you the right to kick us out?"

"We are not bound by blood, so I have no obligation to care for you."

I waved my hand and signaled for security to escort the couple out of the compound along with their belongings. "Don't let them step foot near the villa again."

…

Before his death, Frank had prepaid for Christine's VIP hospital room for a week.

Upon hearing that Doris and Randy had been evicted, Christine couldn't sit still and rushed back.

At that moment, Pamela and Sarah Bell, the nanny, were gathered around the crib and cooing, "Look how adorable Ms. Joyce is! Oh my, she's smiling!"

Christine stared at Joyce. Her face was frozen, and she was wearing a strange smile.

The baby in her arms, Hazel, was noticeably weaker than when I'd last seen her. Her cries were faint, like a kitten's mew. However, Christine didn't seem to care.

I knew she'd rather pump out her milk and throw it away than let "my daughter" have a drop.

Hazel's life of suffering was only beginning.

She was wrapped in a filthy, thin blanket stained with urine and feces. It was damp, reeked horribly, and nauseating even from several feet away.

Any maternal affection I once had for this ungrateful brat had long been snuffed out by her own hands. Seeing her in such a wretched state now, I simply raised a hand in disdain to block the stench.

"Take her farther away. She reeks."

Christine's smile deepened. My indifference toward the baby, who she thought was mine, seemed to bring her immense satisfaction.

She took a step back as told, then said, "Mrs. Turner, I heard giving a baby a lowly name helps them thrive. I'm thinking of calling her 'Grubby'. What do you think?"

That was the very name my daughter bore in my previous life.

"Not lowly enough. Let's call her 'Filthy' instead," I answered.

Christine's eyes lit up with glee. "'Filthy' is perfect. From now on, she'll be a lowly servant destined to serve Ms. Joyce her whole life."