The Swap

After Damian and I got married, Caleb and Betty had visited us once.

The second they walked into our cozy but classy house, their eyes lit up. You could practically see them picturing it as theirs.

Betty and I weren't pregnant at the same time at first, but she suddenly decided on a C-section so we'd deliver on the same day.

When my baby was born, I caught a quick look—a small, round birthmark on his arm. But the next time I saw him, it was gone. I thought maybe I'd imagined it.

It wasn't until the baby shower that the truth hit me.

Damian, trying to make it a big deal, threw a joint party with Caleb and Betty. That's when I saw their son—and he had the same birthmark on his arm.

I knew right then. They'd swapped my baby for theirs, wanting their kid to have the life mine was supposed to.

I wanted to scream, call them out right there. But Rick, my real son, looked so tiny and fragile next to Hugo. It crushed me. Then I noticed how Betty was looking at Damian, and I swallowed the anger.

My family had been nothing but kind to them. My dad treated Damian with respect, even as a live-in son-in-law. He got him a good job, built his family a house back in the countryside, and made sure they had everything they needed. And this was their payback?

Fine. If they wanted to play dirty, no one was walking away clean.

Not long after, Caleb and Betty came up with some excuse about moving to the city for work. They asked if we could help them find a rental nearby.

I didn't object. I knew they were trying to stay near their biological son, watching him grow from the sidelines.

But weren't we all playing the same game? So, I paid for their rental myself and even helped out financially, hoping they'd at least treat my son decently.

Yeah, that didn't happen.

When Hugo turned one, they scrounged up enough to buy him a gold bracelet. Meanwhile, Rick was so thin it hurt to look at him. Even the tiny gold locket I gave him ended up pawned off by those two to buy pork—which they had the nerve to gift back to us.

Damian hesitated when they handed it over, but I didn't miss a beat. "Honey, Caleb and Betty are just showing their gratitude. If we turn it down, they'll feel bad."

Damian's eyes shifted—probably doing mental math—before he fake-declined a few times, then took it with a big smile. Classic him. He couldn't resist a "deal," even if it meant squeezing his own brother.

It wasn't always like this. Before we got married, he seemed selfless—saving up by skipping meals just to buy me flowers. He acted like money didn't matter, convincing everyone, including my parents, that he was head over heels for me.

That was how he earned the approval of my family.

But after the wedding? Total shift. Suddenly, everything was about getting ahead. The job my dad lined up wasn't good enough. He jumped into risky business deals with his friends, draining my parents' savings to fund his plans.

Things only started working out after our child was born, but he never paid back a cent.

My parents didn't push for it, either. They'd just say, "As long as you're happy, the money doesn't matter."

So, I played along. Helped him build his business. Smiled through it all.

I wasn't doing it for him. I was waiting—for the perfect moment to flip the script.