
On my 50th wedding anniversary, I took my worn, crumbling marriage certificate to City Hall to renew it.
The clerk glanced at it—and froze.
“This certificate is fake. Our records show you’ve never been married.”
I stared.
“Impossible. I’ve been married to Damien Slater for fifty years.”
The clerk pulled up his file.
“Well…Yes, Mr. Slater is married—but his wife’s name is Vanessa Grant.”
Vanessa.
His widowed sister-in-law. A military doctor who’d spent decades living among the troops.
My hands shook as I returned home and confronted Damien.
He didn’t even try to deny it.
“I’ve treated you well all these years. Isn’t that enough? Vanessa is my true love. I only ever wanted her—our children, our life.”
My son counseled me and said, “To spare your feelings, my parents kept it a secret their whole lives. You’re getting old now. What more do you want?”
Only then did I learn the truth. The child I had raised with my own hands was never mine by blood.
Decades ago, Vanessa and I gave birth on the same day.
To ensure her child would grow up with intellect, privilege, and a future that I could provide, Damien switched our children.
My own son?
Damien drowned him in the pond the moment he drew breath.
And I—fool that I was—raised Vanessa’s boy as my own.
I even got him all the way to Claremont University.
The truth broke me, and I collapsed.
When I opened my eyes again—I was back.
Back to the day I went into labor.
A familiar pain surged through me as I opened my eyes, and a blinding white light hung overhead.
“Look at our son, Tanya—look how adorable he is,” my husband, Damien Slater, said as he cradled a baby at the edge of the hospital bed, his smile warm and bright.
I glanced around the room, then at Damien’s youthful face, and the realization hit me: I had been reborn.
This was the very day I had given birth in my previous life—the same day my own child had been killed by this monster!
Panic ignited within me.
Ignoring the pain from childbirth, I reached for the baby.
“Give him to me!”
Damien handed him over.
I immediately unwrapped the swaddling, pulled down the baby’s pants, and saw it—a round, bluish birthmark on his bottom.
Blood roared in my veins.
This was the ungrateful child I had raised in my previous life! It was Damien and his sister-in-law, Vanessa Grant’s illegitimate son!
Damien smiled calmly as he attempted to deceive me.
“They say a birthmark on the bottom is a good luck charm. Our son will be carefree and successful.”
I sneered coldly.
Of course—because I had been the sucker raising him all these years, pouring my heart and soul into his care.
I had sent him to Claremont University, and he had told me not to mind Damien and Vanessa’s affair.
I wanted to tear this entire family apart at the thought.
But the immediate priority was finding my own son.
I forced down my rage and turned to Damien.
“How is Vanessa? And her child?”
A flicker of unease crossed his face.
“She’s doing fine. She gave birth to a son, too.”
“You take care of the baby. I’ll go check on her.”
With that, he got up and left in a hurry.
I watched coldly, then called a nurse over and whispered a few instructions.
Minutes later, I carried the baby into Vanessa’s empty hospital room. Both her and Damien were called away by the nurse.
My son lay abandoned on the bed, his breath weak.
Without hesitation, I swapped him with the imposter in my arms.
Holding the tiny bundle in my arms, tears pricked my eyes.
Even at our first meeting, I could feel it clearly—this was my son.
In my previous life, Damien had left under the pretense of going to the military base and had taken Vanessa along as a military doctor.
They had enjoyed themselves far away, returning to me only when they needed money or longed to see their child.
Meanwhile, I clung to a forged marriage certificate and raised their bastard as if he were flesh of my flesh.
I wore myself thin for them. Gave them everything. Sent their son to the prestigious Claremont University.
Not this time.
This time, I wouldn’t just reclaim what was stolen.
I would burn them alive with the truth.