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.

The second Betty walked in, she was already a mess—tears streaking her face, bruises on her arms.

Damian jumped up first, leading her to the couch.

"Betty, what happened?"

She sobbed dramatically, rolling up her sleeve to show the bruises. "He got drunk again and hit me! Look at this!" She even rested her hand on Damian's leg, but I didn't care. My brain was spinning with one thought: Rick.

I cut in fast. "He hit you—what about Rick?"

Her face twisted in disgust. "That useless brat? Honestly, I'd be better off if he got beaten to death. He just stood there, watching me get hit. Didn't lift a finger. Totally worthless. What did I do to deserve a kid like him? He's nothing but dead weight."

I frowned. "He's ten. What did you expect him to do? Fight off a drunk adult?"

"Ten? So what?" She scoffed. "Look at our Hugo—he's strong, adorable, nothing like that scrawny little chicken of yours. I don't even know who Rick takes after."

I caught the slip immediately. My voice stayed calm. "Your Hugo?"

Betty quickly backtracked. "Oh, Amelia, you know me—big mouth! I just love Hugo so much, I feel like he's my own. That's all I meant. You know how close we are—what's yours is mine, right?"

She flashed a sugary smile, but her eyes were all challenge.

I stayed quiet, already planning how to check on Rick without tipping her off.

Before I could move, Hugo burst in, flopping onto Damian's lap.

"Daddy, I want a hamburger!"

Damian's face hardened. "Look at yourself—you're already overweight. No hamburgers. It's late. Go to bed."

"No! I want one! I want one now!"

Hugo's tantrum kicked in full force. Betty swooped in, wrapping him up like he was the victim.

"Hugo, darling, don't cry. I will take you out for burgers. How about two? Would that cheer you up?" She turned to Damian and winked, like they were sharing some inside joke.

My chest ached so bad I could barely breathe.

Then came a knock at the door.

When I opened it, there was Rick.

His timid voice cracked as he said, "Aunt Amelia, is my mom here? Dad told me to come find her."

I pulled him inside, barely stopping myself from hugging him. As subtly as I could, I checked him over for injuries.

Behind me, Betty's sharp voice cut through. "Get out of here! What are you doing, tracking dirt all over their floor? I'm taking Hugo out for burgers. Tell your dad I'm not coming home!"

Rick's eyes clouded with hurt. I knelt, smoothing his hair. "Rick, do you want a hamburger?"

Before he could answer, Hugo charged over and kicked him. "I don't want to eat with him! He stinks like trash!"

Betty stormed over, grabbed Rick, and shoved him toward the door.

"Why are you still standing here like a useless scarecrow? Didn't I tell you to get lost? Go home!"

That was it. I couldn't hold back anymore.

"That's enough!" I snapped. "Stop yelling in my house! Aren't you worried about what the neighbors will think?"

I grabbed Rick's hand and glared at Damian, my voice like ice. "It's late. I'll take him home. You all go eat your burgers."

At the door, I turned to Hugo and smiled. "Eat a lot, okay? If you finish three, there's a reward waiting when you get back."

I didn't wait for a reply. I shut the door, then held Rick's hand tightly as we walked down the stairs together.

"Does it hurt?" I asked softly.

"It doesn't. Your hands are very gentle," Rick said.

"Didn't I tell you? If your dad hits you again, you should come straight to me."

He nodded, then whispered, "I remember. This time, as soon as he started hitting me, I ran out. But, Aunt Amelia... I lied. My dad didn't send me to find my mom. I just wanted to see you. You don't think I'm bad for lying, do you?"

"Of course not," I said firmly. "You're the best kid in the world."

His face lit up for a moment, but then he glanced down, murmuring so quietly. "Aunt Amelia, I wish you were my mom."

Tears welled up before I could stop them. I pulled him into my arms, holding him close as the sobs broke through.

"Be patient, sweet boy. I promise—I'll protect you."

After patching him up, I looked out the window and froze. Damian and Betty were coming down the stairs, each holding one of Hugo's hands. The three of them piled into the car.

I turned back to Rick. "Do you want a hamburger too?"

He hesitated, licking his lips like he wanted to say yes, but then he shook his head.

"Rick," I said gently, "don't lie to me, okay? If you want something, just tell me. Otherwise, I'll get mad."

He gave a shy nod, and I smiled, grabbing his hand.

We caught a cab and quietly followed Damian, Betty, and Hugo to the burger place.

Through the glass, I watched the three of them settle at a table. Only when they were busy eating did I take Rick inside, picking a spot nearby but out of sight.

Hugo sat like a little king, a burger in each hand, alternating bites.

Damian and Betty shared a side of the booth, watching him like proud parents. Betty leaned into Damian every so often, her shoulder brushing his as she smiled.

The sight made me smirk. I pulled out my phone and texted Damian.

[I'm staying at my dad's tonight. He's not feeling well. Make sure Hugo gets to bed.]

His reply was almost instant: [Okay.]

Once Rick finished his burger, I took him home.

The moment Caleb saw me, it was like he sobered up on the spot, greeting me with over-the-top enthusiasm.

I didn't bother with pleasantries. I pulled out a stack of cash and tossed it onto the table. "Life's tough for you. This is for Rick—take it."

His face lit up like Christmas morning, and he repeatedly thanked me.

I fixed him with a cold stare. "Listen carefully. I'm giving you this money because I care about Rick, not you. But if you ever lay a hand on him again, and you end up going too far... there won't be another cent for you. Think about what matters more."

I turned and walked out without another word.

That night, I stayed at my parents' house. In the privacy of my old bedroom, I pulled out my phone and opened the surveillance app linked to the hidden camera in my room.

What I saw turned my stomach: Damian and Betty, tangled together on our bed, ripping at each other's clothes like they couldn't get enough.

I hit the save button without hesitation and turned the video off.

Since Hugo was born, intimacy with Damian had all but disappeared.

At first, it was because my parents were staying with us, and things felt awkward. Later, Hugo's constant bedwetting and late-night crying kept me in his room more often than not.

Damian's frustration eventually turned into apathy. Now, even when we shared a bed, there was nothing between us.

And honestly? That was exactly how I wanted it.