Swapping My Own Kid Back

"Oh, Sweetie. I'm not being kind to you because of your mother. I'm telling you this because there's a chance I might actually be your mom," I said to Cain.

I decided not to beat around the bush. Cain needed to know eventually. And the sooner he knew, the better it was for me.

After I said that, the atmosphere between us grew strangely silent. I thought my words might have been too overwhelming for a ten-year-old boy. But when Cain finally spoke, his first words shocked me.

He remarked, "No wonder. I always wondered how a mother could despise her child and not love him."

His thin frame, which was now wrapped in high-end children's clothes, carried a forlorn air with a faint trace of self-deprecating bitterness. At that moment, I felt like the DNA test was unnecessary—I was sure this was my child.

Still, I couldn't skip any steps. I had to follow through to ensure that the vile couple who caused this separation would pay dearly for their actions. I would see to it that the fake daughter who took my real son's place would return to where she belonged and live the life she deserved.

I pulled out my phone and called my brother, Simeon Johanssen, who had a team of private investigators under him. When I told him I wanted to investigate Ian, he wasn't the least bit surprised.

"I've always said Ian was trouble, but you never listened," Simeon said in an I-told-you-so tone.

His words reminded me of the time I decided to marry Ian despite the opposition from all of my family members. They were all convinced Ian only wanted our family's wealth and status.

They weren't wrong. My family stood at the top of Galehaven's business world. We were wealthy and influential, and I had been chosen as the next head of the Johanssen family.

But back then, I was a naive young girl who blindly believed in romantic ideals—that love could conquer all, even poverty. I thought it didn't matter even if the man I loved was a beggar as long as we were together.

After the marriage, reality set in. The gap between our social classes and spending habits created countless conflicts. It quickly drained the little love we had.

Being the strong-willed person I was, I convinced myself that as long as there weren't fundamental issues, there was no need to expose my marital unhappiness. After all, how many marriages were truly built on love in our circle?

But I hadn't realized that Ian's betrayal had begun long ago. Perhaps every step he took—every action—was part of his plan. My child and I were nothing more than pawns in his scheme to climb the social ladder.

If that was the case, there was no longer any need to keep up appearances. Dignity and respect were things that one earned for oneself. Since Ian had no interest in preserving those, I saw no reason to hand them to him on a silver platter.

"I regret it now, Simeon. Please, stop teasing me. I need to know everything about what's been going on between Ian and Margaret all these years," I stated evenly.

Upon hearing the seriousness in my voice, Simeon dropped his playful tone and promised to conduct a thorough and meticulous investigation.

After hanging up, I turned to look at the boy by my side. The name Cain grated on my ears—I couldn't stand it for another second.

I said to him, "How about we call you Atlas Johanssen from now on? You'll take my surname. Even if the test shows you're not my biological child, I'll still consider you part of the Johanssen family. What do you think?"

Cain was still too young to know what it meant to be a Johanssen. Let me put it this way—when I gave birth to Maisie, Ian was desperate to have her take the Johanssen surname. But because my family had not yet accepted him as a son-in-law, his plan failed.

As I looked back now, I felt relieved. If Maisie had taken the Johanssen name, it would have caused so much trouble today.

After a moment of silence, Cain still hadn't responded to my suggestion. Doubts began swirling in my mind. Of course—how absurd was it to offer a child a new name without even confirming if I was his biological mother? What I was doing was kind of unhinged.

Just as I was about to tell Cain that I was only joking, he spoke. "Mom, I want to be Atlas Johanssen. I don't want to be Cain Lonsdale—the child Margaret doesn't want."

"Good!" I thought. That was the decisiveness I'd expect from someone with the Johanssen family blood running in their veins.

With that resolved, I no longer had anything holding me back. It was time to start punishing that despicable couple for what they'd done.