After My Husband Switched Our Babies, I Destroyed His Legacy

The doctor restrained me and administered a sedative before I could say a word. Darkness enveloped me swiftly, leaving no time for questions.

When I stirred awake, Matheo was at my side, his face alight with joy.

"Livia, the operation was a success!" he declared. "Our baby can finally have a chance at a normal life like other children!"

His excitement was evident, yet his smile was a dagger to my soul.

"Once Kori pulls through the critical stage, we can bring him home!" he added enthusiastically.

Holding his hand tightly, I nervously asked, "And what happened to the other child?"

Matheo's expression faltered as he acknowledged my reference to the child swapped with Stephanie Marshall's. He looked down, wiping imaginary dust from his knee, and spoke softly, "That child wasn't as lucky. He didn't survive the bone marrow extraction and passed away on the operating table."

His words were as casual as a whisper, trivializing the loss of a child's life with scarcely a pause. The pain in my heart twisted into a tighter knot.

Only then did the full gravity of the situation hit me. Matheo had knowingly ordered the doctor to sedate me, ensuring the donation surgery proceeded without my awareness.

Unaware of my inner turmoil, he proceeded to hand me our child's birth certificate. The name section was unmistakably marked, "Kori Marshall."

Seeing that name, I chuckled bitterly. Not only had he chosen our baby's name without my input, but he also seamlessly intertwined his affection for Stephanie into it. "Kori" was a reflection of his longing for "Stephanie."

Still basking in the thrill of their child having a name, Matheo declared, "Livia, our family's legacy lives on."

The image of their child growing up enveloped in love, while my own was forever frozen in time, pierced my heart like a blade.