My daughter unplugs my oxygen tube before throwing herself into her nanny's arms. "The old hag is finally dying, Mom. I don't need to call a thief my mother anymore!"

It turns out the nanny switched my child for hers when they were born. I've spent the last two decades doting on the nanny's daughter.

I die of an aneurysm after recalling my birth daughter's horrible death.

When I open my eyes again, I'm taken back to the day my daughter was born.

"Why did you have a baby girl? I should never have let my son marry you, you jinx! Because of you, the Turner family is doomed to end!"

The suffocating pain of near death made me feel like my lungs were about to burst, while the familiar yet shrill scolding gradually became clear.

A surge of hatred jolted me awake.

Doris Nelson, my mother-in-law, sat by my hospital bed. She sipped on her soup as she hurled insults at me.

"You got my son killed and birthed a worthless brat in return! You're not getting any of this soup!"

This happened on the day my daughter was born.

Had I been reborn?

I remembered just moments ago, the child who I'd painstakingly raised had unplugged my oxygen supply and then chatted away with the nanny happily.

It was then I'd discovered my child had been swapped shortly after birth.

I'd died in agony, filled with betrayal and despair.

At present, Doris flung her spoon into the thermal container and slammed it onto the bedside table.

"If you're awake, get up and wash these. I need to lie down for a bit. I've been up all night because you just had to go into labor in the middle of the night!"

Her words mirrored those from my previous life.

It seemed I'd returned to the day my daughter was born.

Somewhere in the newborn nursery, Christine Loman must be swapping the babies as we spoke.

Ignoring the searing pain of childbirth and my feeble state, I scrambled off the bed barefoot and staggered out of the room.

When I reached the nursery, Christine was stepping out with a smug smile.

The babies had been swapped!

Trembling with rage, I prepared to call for a nurse to detain Christine and alert the authorities. But the next second, a voice froze me in place.

"Is it done?"

It was Randy Turner, my father-in-law. He was part of this too!

Randy said, "If it weren't for Lana, Frank wouldn't have had to sneak out to see you and Hazel in the middle of the night. Then, he wouldn't have died in that car crash."

As I leaned against the wall for support, I bit my lip so hard I tasted blood.

In my previous life, Randy and Doris had claimed that Frank had ventured out late at night and gotten into a fatal car accident all because I'd mentioned wanting a cake from a certain bakery before bed.

I'd lived in guilt and self-blame, endured their abuse, and provided for them until their deaths.

But the truth was so vile.

"Christine, you and Frank grew up together, and we've always treated you as our daughter-in-law. If it weren't for the Jepsen family's coercion, I wouldn't have let Lana in the door, much less let you serve as a nanny. Swapping the babies is a form of justice, and Jepsen Group will be our compensation to Hazel."

I didn't know how long I stood frozen until Christine and Randy finally left. When I came to, I found myself standing by my daughter's crib.

I recognized her immediately even though she was lying in the crib that should've belonged to Frank and Christine's illegitimate child. After all, I'd risked my life to bring her into this world.

She was only two days younger than Hazel Turner, and they shared a resemblance. However, I knew deep down that she was my child.

"I'm so sorry, sweetheart. I'll never let anyone hurt you again."

Tears blurred my vision as I cradled my daughter for the first time over two lifetimes, and my heart broke at the thought of her previous life, which had been filled with suffering.

Just then, her tiny hand brushed against my cheek, as if to wipe away my tears.

Looking at her delicate face, I snapped back to reality.

By the time I left the nursery, the babies had been swapped back.

This time, all the torment Christine had planned for my daughter would befall her own child.

When I returned to the hospital room, Doris was snoring loudly.

I contacted Pamela Abrams, my former housekeeper.

After my parents' deaths, Frank had taken over our family business. Pamela had repeatedly warned me about the Turners, which irritated Doris and resulted in her eventual dismissal.

I had made the wrong choice back then. It was the Turners who should've been kicked out.

I instructed Pamela to pack up their belongings. Then, casting a cold glance at Doris's sleeping figure, I upgraded myself to a VIP room and stationed bodyguards at the door.

After that, I consulted with my lawyer.

A portion of my assets was premarital property, while the rest was an inheritance designated by my parents. Frank had no share in any of them.

He'd only recently assumed the position of CEO and hadn't yet managed to trick me into signing over any of the company's stock before his untimely death.

Once Frank's funeral arrangements were swiftly handled, I froze all secondary cards linked to his accounts that supported Doris, Randy, and Christine and reclaimed control of Jepsen Group.

Once, I was brainwashed into believing my sole purpose was to be a dutiful housewife and mother.

But after losing my parents and husband, I had no choice but to shoulder the burden of the company. Thus, 20 years as its leader made picking it up again effortless.

The next day, I left the hospital with my baby in my arms, only to see Doris with a sour expression.

She berated, "Are you seriously throwing a tantrum because I asked you to wash some dishes? God knows if you were having a secret affair! I wouldn't want a daughter-in-law like you!"

I ignored her, but that only made Doris more vicious.

"Please, stop acting like some pampered heiress. You're a walking curse who caused your parents and husband's deaths. There's no one to spoil you now!"

I walked past her without a word, got into the car, and drove off.

In the rearview mirror, Doris was stomping her foot and yelling, "Hey! I haven't gotten in yet!"

By the time Doris and Randy managed to scrape together enough coins to take the taxi home from the hospital, their belongings were already piled at the villa's entrance.

I had security stop them at the gate.

"Lana Jepsen! What do you think you're doing?"

Doris shrieked, "Frank hasn't been gone for long, and you're already kicking us out? Don't forget that it's your fault he's dead! Aren't you afraid he'll come to haunt you at night?"

"Frank died because he crashed his car. What does that have to do with me?" I retorted.

The mention of Frank did not stir any feelings in my heart.

"I let you live here because you were his parents. Now, it's time for you to leave."

Randy's expression darkened as he glanced at the baby in my arms. Mistaking her for Christine's child, he bellowed, "She's Frank's only bloodline! You have no right to separate us!"

Only? I sneered.

These two never once saw my daughter as part of their family.

I replied, "She doesn't carry the Turner name. Her name is Joyce Jepsen, and she's the most precious gift the heavens have given me."

"What? Didn't we say to name her Hazel Turner? Changing her name is one thing, but why should the Turner family's descendant take your last name?" Doris argued.

I cast her a sidelong glance and said, "Why not? She's my child. Get out of here if you're done."

Doris was trembling violently as she scolded, "I knew you were putting on an act all this while. Frank's only been dead a few days, yet you've turned your back on us and even severed his bloodline!"

In the end, Doris threw herself to the ground. She resorted to throwing a tantrum. "You married Frank, so this house belongs to him. What gives you the right to kick us out?"

"We are not bound by blood, so I have no obligation to care for you."

I waved my hand and signaled for security to escort the couple out of the compound along with their belongings. "Don't let them step foot near the villa again."

…

Before his death, Frank had prepaid for Christine's VIP hospital room for a week.

Upon hearing that Doris and Randy had been evicted, Christine couldn't sit still and rushed back.

At that moment, Pamela and Sarah Bell, the nanny, were gathered around the crib and cooing, "Look how adorable Ms. Joyce is! Oh my, she's smiling!"

Christine stared at Joyce. Her face was frozen, and she was wearing a strange smile.

The baby in her arms, Hazel, was noticeably weaker than when I'd last seen her. Her cries were faint, like a kitten's mew. However, Christine didn't seem to care.

I knew she'd rather pump out her milk and throw it away than let "my daughter" have a drop.

Hazel's life of suffering was only beginning.

She was wrapped in a filthy, thin blanket stained with urine and feces. It was damp, reeked horribly, and nauseating even from several feet away.

Any maternal affection I once had for this ungrateful brat had long been snuffed out by her own hands. Seeing her in such a wretched state now, I simply raised a hand in disdain to block the stench.

"Take her farther away. She reeks."

Christine's smile deepened. My indifference toward the baby, who she thought was mine, seemed to bring her immense satisfaction.

She took a step back as told, then said, "Mrs. Turner, I heard giving a baby a lowly name helps them thrive. I'm thinking of calling her 'Grubby'. What do you think?"

That was the very name my daughter bore in my previous life.

"Not lowly enough. Let's call her 'Filthy' instead," I answered.

Christine's eyes lit up with glee. "'Filthy' is perfect. From now on, she'll be a lowly servant destined to serve Ms. Joyce her whole life."

Christine wasn't about to get what she wanted.

While she believed Joyce to be her biological daughter and wouldn't hurt her because of it, how could I possibly let someone so manipulative stay around my child?

"Christine, I'm terminating your employment," I said.

"Mrs. Turner!"

Christine was visibly shocked. She dropped to her knees with tears streaming down her face. She cried, "I haven't even had the chance to properly serve you and Ms. Joyce yet! Please don't make us leave!"

I looked down at her from where I sat on the couch.

"You're a nanny, Christine. How are you supposed to do your job while caring for a baby? Should I hire another nanny just to look after you during your recovery? We're not running a charity. Take your filthy brat and leave."

Christine's face twitched uncontrollably at my words. While hearing me call "my baby" names made her feel smug, she knew leaving would mean losing any chance of seeing Joyce again.

"Mrs. Turner, I'm begging you! I have nowhere else to go. I'll do anything!"

She came closer on her knees and continued, "I'll take perfect care of Ms. Joyce, and Filthy will devote her life to serving Ms. Joyce. If she ever slacks off, I'll beat her to death! In fact, if it'll make you let me stay, I'll kill her right now!"

Sarah looked horrified. "Christine, are you out of your mind? Why do you hate your child that much?"

"You don't know a thing!" Christine shrieked. Her hysteria was bordering on madness.

But in the end, Christine didn't have the nerve to harm Hazel in front of everyone, nor the courage to reveal Joyce's "true identity." Hence, she was thrown out of the house.

She clutched Hazel tightly, and her face froze in a chilling expression.

I couldn't shake the feeling that something terrible would follow.

Afterward, I had someone keep an eye on Christine and Hazel, as well as Randy and Doris.

The elderly couple moved back to their rundown apartment complex and brought along Christine and Hazel. United by their hatred for me, the four of them formed a neat, cozy family.

As "my daughter," Hazel became their target for venting all their bitterness.

According to neighbors, shouting, vile insults, and the sound of beatings frequently came from their apartment, followed by the hoarse cries of a baby.

When Hazel's cries eventually stopped, one concerned neighbor investigated and discovered the Turners had sealed her mouth shut with duct tape.

The infant lay in filth with vacant eyes, while her fragile body was covered in bruises. Intervention from social services did little to help, and the abuse only escalated.

By some miracle, Hazel survived.

Nonetheless, even as a toddler, she was forced to do household chores. Any mistake would result in a beating. She must have wondered why her mother despised her so much.

The more Christine longed for Joyce, the deeper her hatred for Hazel grew.

I had done everything I could to keep Christine away from Joyce. But one day, Christine managed to find her after school.

"Hazel! Mommy's finally found you! Lana killed your father, kicked me and your grandparents out of the house, and kept us apart all these years!"

By the time I arrived, Christine was weeping and trembling as she clung to Joyce. "Hazel, I've thought about you every single day!"

However, unlike Hazel in the previous timeline, Joyce broke free from Christine's grasp and said, "I'm not your daughter!"

"But you are!" Christine cried in distress.

"Hazel, how can you deny your mother? If you don't believe me, we can do a DNA test! Hazel is your name, and it was chosen by your father and me. After I gave birth to you, I swapped you and Lana's baby so you could have a better life. No one loves you more than I do!"

I paused mid-step.

In my previous life, Hazel had believed Christine's story despite all the love I'd showered her with. She'd turned against me, even going so far as to take my life to legitimize their reunion.

But what would Joyce do?