Swapping My Own Kid Back

My daughter has leukemia and desperately needs a bone marrow donor. After a blood test, it turns out my blood type doesn't match hers. However, my husband's blood type does.

This confuses me. I gave birth to her, so how could my blood type not be a match for hers?

I'm puzzled by this when my long-lost best friend suddenly appears with her son, who's about my daughter's age. She wants him to do a blood test to see whether it matches my daughter's.

"Serena, listen to me. Let Margaret give it a try. There's a high chance that unrelated strangers may be a bone marrow match," my husband, Ian Glock, urged me anxiously.

Our ten-year-old daughter, Maisie Glock, was sick. She had leukemia, and she urgently needed a bone marrow transplant. However, things weren't going our way.

The HLA test showed that I wasn't a match. Not only was I unable to donate my bone marrow, but the doctor also delivered shocking news—the daughter I had cherished and loved for ten years wasn't biologically mine.

I found this hard to swallow. This was the child I had carried for ten months, the one I had nearly died giving birth to. Back then, she had looked nothing like me and took after Ian instead. Still, I never doubted it.

There was an old wives' tale that daughters who resembled their fathers would have a prosperous life ahead. However, as Maisie grew up, I started to notice that her temperament was entirely different from mine—and even from Ian's.

Through her, I saw a shadow of someone from my past—my former best friend, Margaret Lonsdale.

Margaret had disappeared from Galehaven for ten years. When she suddenly returned and rushed straight to the hospital to check if her bone marrow was a match for my daughter, I knew there was more to the story.

Well, Margaret wasn't just anyone. Back in college, she had cozied up to me upon learning my family was wealthy. I ended up giving her my spare cosmetics and clothes for four years.

She had never spent a penny on me. Now, out of nowhere, she wanted to help my daughter. I found her generosity which had come out of nowhere hard to believe.

At the same time, my gaze landed on the little boy standing beside her. He was said to be Margaret's son. Though it was already early autumn, the boy was wearing a short-sleeved shirt and pants that didn't fit. On his feet were a pair of sneakers so worn they'd faded in color.

Upon noticing that I was observing him, the boy tugged at the hem of his shirt shyly, trying to cover himself up. Unfortunately, his clothes were too small. So, his attempt was futile.

I looked away from the boy, but a seed of doubt had already been planted in my mind.

This boy wasn't as tall as Maisie and looked malnourished. However, his features bore an uncanny resemblance to mine as a child. The way he instinctively tugged at his clothes when he felt nervous looked especially familiar. It was a habit I remembered having in my younger days.

Still, I couldn't act rashly. If this boy was my biological child, then who was Maisie? And how had my child ended up with Margaret?

Questions swirled in my mind, scattering everywhere without forming a clear picture. I was missing a crucial piece of the puzzle.

My silence spurred Ian to speak up anxiously again. "Stop being stubborn, Serena. Just sign the papers and let Margaret undergo the test."

Years ago, Ian had signed a series of agreements with my father before our marriage, including stipulations about children. That meant if I didn't sign the papers today, no one would dare proceed with conducting any form of testing that involved Maisie.

"Maisie? Margaret?" I repeated their names in my mind.

Sometimes, the truth could be right before our eyes. The most dangerous place was often the safest. People were usually unwilling to believe that reality could be stranger than fiction.

As I pondered their names in my mind, I felt as if I had found the thread that tied all the scattered pieces together.

Ian, the ladder climber who had made his way up by marrying me, didn't have the decency to at least be faithful in our marriage. He had cheated on me, swapped my child with another, and thought I wouldn't notice.

If I didn't get even with the two scoundrels, I'd never forgive myself for all the suffering my child endured out there.

"Ian, why don't you take Margaret and Maisie to get the test done? I'll stay here and take care of Margaret's boy," I said, observing their reactions.

When I mentioned keeping watch over the boy, they exchanged a quick glance. Their eyes met for a fraction of a second before they looked away.