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Swapping My Own Kid Back Novel Cover

Swapping My Own Kid Back

When her daughter is diagnosed with leukemia, a mother prepares for a bone marrow transplant, only to discover a shocking medical anomaly: her blood type does not match the child she birthed, though her husband’s does. This impossible revelation leaves her reeling with questions about her daughter's true identity. The mystery deepens when an old friend resurfaces with a son, offering him for testing in a desperate search for a life-saving match.
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Chapter 2

"Alright, thank you, Serena. His name is Cain Lonsdale," Margaret said with a smile tugging at the corners of her lips, making no effort to hide her glee.

To her, I had always been the rich girl who was nice and overly generous—a gullible heiress, in other words. But as the one who is next in line to inherit the Johanssen family's business, how could I be some bimbo for others to manipulate?

She had mistaken my tolerance of her petty schemes as proof of my stupidity and failed to realize I had merely considered her to be kind of acceptable as a friend. I never expected her shamelessness would escalate to the point of swapping my child and giving him such a name.

My entire body shook with anger. I wanted nothing more than to beat this vile pair of scoundrels before tossing them into the open sea to feed the sharks. However, I couldn't act just yet.

These two had deceived me for ten years. They had let my biological child suffer while I unknowingly raised their child as my own. If I let them off easily, that would be too merciful.

After Ian and Margaret left, only Cain and I remained in the room.

"How old are you?" I asked. Back then, I had only heard rumors that Margaret was pregnant, yet I never saw her again after she got pregnant. I needed to piece together how my child had been switched.

"I'm ten years old, Mrs. Glock," the boy replied softly.

His voice tugged at my heartstrings. Maisie had never spoken to me so gently before. She resented me for not having a nine-to-five job like her father, unaware that it was me who paid Ian's salary.

Every time I bought something, she would criticize me and say, "Mom, you don't earn money, but you spend it without a care. You're such a spendthrift."

At first, I chalked it up to my mother-in-law's negative influence on her. But as it happened more often, I began to wonder if this was her true nature. I couldn't understand how my excellent genes could produce such a child.

Now, I knew the truth—there was nothing wrong with my genes. The child I gave birth to was thoughtful and kind, and he was nothing like the one I'd been raising.

"Let's go buy you some new clothes. The weather's getting chilly," I said, noticing the goosebumps on his skinny arms. They were covered in bruises and scars, both old and new.

When Cain heard my words, his eyes lit up for a moment before quickly dimming. "No, Mrs. Glock. Mom says I'm worthless and don't deserve nice clothes. What I have is fine."

I was utterly heartbroken and I couldn't listen to this anymore. I couldn't imagine the hardships my son had endured over the past ten years. My nose stung, and a tear slid down my cheek.

Quickly, I turned my head and wiped it away so that Cain wouldn't see. Then, I grabbed his hand and headed straight for the mall.

At the mall, I replaced Cain's threadbare clothes that were barely fit to be rags with warm, high-quality outfits. At first, he resisted. After a while, he began to accept the new clothes I got him. While helping him try on a hoodie, I secretly plucked a strand of his hair and tucked it away.

Though I was almost certain of the truth, I had spent the past ten years with Ian. The entanglement of our finances and interests meant I couldn't act recklessly.

While I was shopping with Cain, Ian called me. "Serena, where are you? You need to thank Margaret properly this time. Her bone marrow was a match with our daughter's!"

Ian's excitement could practically spill through the phone as he further urged, "Come back quickly and make sure to have our private chef prepare some good food for Margaret. She's our savior, after all."

He then went on and on about how to pamper Margaret, the supposed savior of our daughter.

Standing next to me, Cain tugged gently at my sleeve and whispered, "Mrs. Glock, I hope my mom can save your daughter. But if you're only being nice to me because of this, you don't have to. My mom doesn't like me, and I don't have a dad. You feel like family to me, and I like you."

Cain's words thawed my heart like a warm spring melting a glacier. It struck a chord deep within me. Ever since I found out the truth, hatred was the primary driving factor behind every step I took—it clouded my mind from everything else.

Unexpectedly, the thing that I was so desperate to keep was nearly pushed away by me. My next move would be to punish that despicable couple and protect my child.

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