On the day I gave birth, I watched with my own eyes as my nanny swapped my newborn baby with her own. I pretended not to notice. For eighteen years, the nanny’s son lived under my roof, eating the finest food, wearing the best clothes, and enjoying every luxury my wealth could buy. He eventually graduated at the top of his class and secured a full-ride scholarship to an Ivy League university. Meanwhile, I stood by and watched the nanny micro-manage my “son’s” life, constantly beating, verbally abusing, and humiliating him. On the day of his graduation party, the nanny burst into the ballroom, holding a DNA test report to crash the celebration. “Toby is my biological son!” she screamed. “It’s time we swap them back!” I curled my lips into a smile. “Sure.” “Mrs. Vance, I bought the cake Toby wanted, and your favorite desserts too. I’ve put them in the fridge.” Brenda, the nanny, had a flattering smile plastered across her face. Whenever she looked at Toby, her eyes practically overflowed with deep, maternal affection. Ever since I brought the baby home from the hospital, she had poured her heart and soul into him. It was as if she wanted to give him the entire world. If Toby wanted something, she would make sure he got it instantly. Whether it was gourmet food or expensive toys. Even Richard was starting to worry that Toby would end up spoiled and entitled. But I knew the truth. Brenda just wanted her own son to live the best possible life and enjoy every luxury. I didn’t expose her. I just nodded and watched her put the cake in the fridge. Behind her stood a small, scrawny boy dressed in patched-up, oversized clothes. He had a thin, hollow face and sunken eyes. He looked much smaller and weaker than other kids his age. This was my “son.” Brenda had legally named him Lucas, but she only ever called him “Trash.” As Lucas walked into the kitchen, Brenda slapped him hard across the face. “Where are your manners? Didn’t I teach you to greet people when you walk in?” Just then, Toby ran down the stairs. Before he could even speak, Brenda rushed over to him, her voice dripping with sweetness. “Toby, sweetie, do you want some cake?” “Thanks, Brenda. Can you plate it for me, please?” He flashed a bright, sunny smile that could melt anyone’s heart. Brenda’s face lit up with joy. She immediately grabbed the cake, plated it, and even set the fork down perfectly for him. Once she was done, she turned back to her trembling biological son standing in the corner. She kicked him hard in the shin. “Why are you standing there looking like a kicked puppy? Get back to your room! Just looking at you ruins my day!” Lucas fell to the floor, his head hitting the hardwood with a dull thud. Tears welled up in his eyes. But he didn’t cry. He scrambled back up immediately, wiping his eyes with his sleeve. Even Toby looked startled by the violence. But Lucas just stood in front of Toby, bowing slightly. “I’m sorry, Toby. I’m sorry, Mom.” Clearly, he was used to this treatment. He knew exactly what to do to quiet Brenda’s rage. I was used to it too. After all, Brenda lived with us. In the beginning, she only beat Lucas behind closed doors. But once she did it in front of me and realized I didn’t care, she stopped hiding it. She would find any excuse to hit him right in front of my face. Even for something as trivial as not saying hello. And Lucas had learned to apologize instantly. 0
My husband, Richard, walked in just in time to see Lucas apologizing, a fresh bruise swelling on his forehead. Richard’s face darkened instantly. “What the hell do you think you’re doing? Even if he is your kid, you shouldn’t be beating him like that in front of Toby!” Was he worried about Lucas? Of course not. He was worried about Toby. He was terrified Toby would be corrupted by seeing such violence. “Yes, of course, Mr. Vance. I’m sorry. The brat just has no manners, so I had to teach him a lesson. Toby is so polite and cultured. This trash isn’t worthy to even breathe the same air as him.” Brenda smiled obsequiously, then glared venomously at Lucas. The boy shrank back two steps, his face turning pale. He huddled in the corner like a frightened bird, not daring to make a sound. Brenda rolled her eyes at him, then turned back to Toby with a beaming smile. “Toby, tomorrow is your first day of preschool, right? Should I pack some homemade cookies and snacks for you to take?” Toby nodded, offering a sweet, innocent smile. “Thanks, Brenda.” To him, this was just the nanny being nice. He didn’t think anything of it. Hearing this, Lucas cautiously reached out and tugged at Brenda’s apron, his voice trembling with hope. “Mom… I want to go to preschool too…” It hit me then. Lucas and Toby were born on the same day. They should have been starting school together. Even if it was just preschool. But standing next to Toby, Lucas looked a full head shorter. If someone told me he was only two years old instead of four, I would have believed them. “Preschool? Who do you think you are? You think you’re royalty? Kids where I come from play in the dirt, they don’t go to fancy prep-schools! You’ve got cheap blood but rich desires!” With that, Brenda began kicking and punching Lucas again. Lucas couldn’t hold it in anymore. He burst into loud, agonizing wails that echoed through the entire house. Richard rushed over to stop her, and Toby tried to block her too. I was the only one who sat there, coldly watching the circus unfold. Worried she might scare Toby, Brenda grabbed Lucas by his leg and dragged him down the hallway into the nanny’s quarters. The next morning, Toby put on his little backpack, and Brenda escorted him to the car. Richard noticed the lack of a shadow behind Brenda today. “Where’s your boy? Are you really not sending him to preschool?” “Mr. Vance, I appreciate the thought, but Lucas is a country boy. He doesn’t belong in a city school. I’ll send him back to the country to study when he’s older. You know my ex-husband was an absolute monster. He beat me constantly. Every time I look at Lucas, I just see that beast’s face…” Brenda’s eyes welled with tears as she spoke. Richard didn’t want to hear it. We had hired Brenda because she was a hard worker. When we found out she was pregnant, we didn’t fire her because we knew her husband was a piece of trash. The man drank, gambled, and smoked. And when he got drunk, he beat his wife. If Brenda didn’t make money, he would have beaten her to death. … After Richard and Toby drove off, Brenda and I walked back into the living room. As soon as we stepped inside, we saw Lucas kneeling on the floor, scrubbing the tiles. His tiny body was hunched over. His hands were too small to even wring the rag dry. Yet, he carefully and meticulously wiped down every single inch of the floor. If you looked closely, you could see sweat pouring down his face, and his leg was visibly twitching. 0
It must have been from the beating yesterday. I turned on my heel and walked away without hesitation, pretending I saw nothing. By the afternoon, when Toby was brought home, Brenda was the first to rush to the door to fuss over him. Toby answered her patiently, but the scrape on his cheek was hard to ignore. “Toby, sweetie, your face…” Brenda panicked, her voice laced with genuine terror. “I just tripped and fell.” Toby didn’t care. He knew that when you fall, you just get back up. It was no big deal. But Brenda was hysterical. “How did you fall? Are you hurt anywhere else?” She turned to me, her voice accusing. “Mrs. Vance, Toby is your child! How can you be so calm? Don’t you care about him at all?” I raised an eyebrow. “Kids fall and get scraped up all the time. He’s not made of glass. Your own son gets hurt every single day, and I don’t see you losing your mind over it.” Brenda snapped. “How can you compare Lucas to Toby? What is he even—” Realizing what she was about to say, Brenda cut herself off, her voice turning timid. “Mrs. Vance, I’m sorry. Please don’t mind what I just said. I’m just so worried about Toby. What if some bully picked on him at preschool? He’s been raised so delicately. Lucas is built tough; he can’t be compared to Toby.” Just then, Richard walked in and frowned. “If you gave Lucas even a fraction of the care you give Toby, he wouldn’t look like a walking skeleton. Where is he anyway?” “The boy was tired. He’s fast asleep in his room. Should I go wake him up?” Richard shook his head. “No, let him sleep.” Brenda grumbled, “He’s just spoiled. Sleeping at this hour… he needs a good beating.” Before she could say more, Toby tugged on my hand. “Mom, I’m hungry.” Brenda immediately chimed in, “I’ll go set the table right away!” She had prepared dinner hours ago, anticipating Toby would be hungry after school. I didn’t mind. I let her play the doting mother. It was almost as if by jumping in, she could pretend Toby had been calling out to her. After dinner, Brenda happily tucked Toby into bed. The next morning, Lucas was still nowhere to be seen. I finally told Brenda to go check on him. It turned out the boy had been burning with a high fever all night. By the time the doctor arrived, the fever had been running for too long. The doctor warned us that the prolonged high fever had caused permanent brain damage. He would suffer from involuntary tremors and spasms for the rest of his life. Brenda looked at Lucas with nothing but disgust. I stood beside her, my face completely expressionless. Why did I suddenly ask about Lucas? Because I wanted this game to become much more interesting, of course. How could he leave the stage so early? After that, Brenda continued to dote on Toby while her abuse of Lucas grew more frequent and severe. Because of his neurological damage, Lucas often lost control of his bladder. This accidents only earned him more brutal beatings from Brenda. I watched Brenda look at Toby with eyes full of deep, obsessive love, and I couldn’t help but smile. Keep spoiling him, Brenda. I can’t wait to see the end of this show. 0
Over the next fourteen years, Brenda dutifully took care of Toby’s every need. She wanted to do absolutely everything for him. Meanwhile, my “son” Lucas was sent away to a run-down farm in the Midwest just a few days after his fever broke. I heard his life there was miserable. Whenever Richard occasionally brought him up, Brenda would wave her hand in disgust. “Lucas isn’t cut out for school anyway. Unlike Toby, he’s only good for farm work.” And then she would launch into complaints about her abusive ex-husband and how hard her life was. Eventually, Richard stopped asking. The next time we saw Lucas was at Toby’s high school graduation party. Toby had graduated at the top of his class, got accepted into Harvard, and was awarded a massive scholarship. I had thrown a lavish, high-profile celebration at a luxury hotel to celebrate his achievement. But Brenda, who had taken a few days off, chose this exact day to show up. Behind her stood a trembling teenage boy. He was sun-baked, emaciated, and cringed at every sound. Brenda walked up to me and handed me a printed DNA report. “Mrs. Vance, I took Lucas to the clinic recently. I noticed his blood type didn’t make sense, so I did a DNA test. It turns out… he isn’t my son.” “The hospital made a mistake eighteen years ago. Lucas is your biological son. Toby is mine.” “No wonder I always loved Toby so much! It was the call of the blood.” “Now that we know the truth, we should swap them back, don’t you think?” Brenda rubbed her hands together anxiously, but her eyes locked onto Toby with a look of intense, greedy affection. Her eyes brimmed with tears, playing the part of a long-suffering, emotional mother perfectly. The news was like a bomb dropping on the banquet hall. The guests instantly erupted into whispers. “How could a hospital make a mistake like that? Is there more to this story?” “This is hilarious. The Vances raised her son to be a Harvard scholar with a full ride, and now she comes to claim him? Talk about hitting the jackpot!” “Exactly! Toby is so well-bred, smart, and a talented pianist. That’s all thanks to Eleanor’s parenting.” … On one hand, you had an Ivy League-bound scholar, a decorated pianist with a bright future. On the other hand, you had an uneducated, illiterate kid from a farm who trembled constantly and had to wear adult diapers. Anyone with a brain knew who to choose. “Sure. Let’s swap them back,” I said, a slight smile playing on my lips. The room fell into stunned silence. Even Brenda stared at me in disbelief. She never expected me to agree so easily. Richard immediately rushed to my side. “Eleanor! Do you even hear yourself?” “You’re going to hand Toby over to her based on some random piece of paper she brought in?” “What if this is fake? She hasn’t even done a test with Toby yet!” Toby looked at me, his eyes wide with hurt. “Mom… I’m your son!” “No, you’re not. I watched you get swapped in the nursery. Toby and I share no biological connection.” I shook my head, pulling out my own copy of a DNA report. Richard’s face turned incredibly pale. He shook his head violently, refusing to accept it. “But you always said Toby was your entire world! You almost died giving birth to him! You begged the doctors to save him over you!” “How could you just stand there and watch your own baby get swapped?” “You’re just angry, right? You’re saying this to hurt me, aren’t you?” He looked at me with begging eyes, desperate for the answer he wanted to hear. Under the weight of everyone’s stares, I shook my head firmly. “No. I saw the swap happen with my own eyes.” The moment the words left my mouth, a loud slap echoed through the room. Richard’s face twisted with rage, a face that slowly merged with the one in my memories. Instead of getting angry, I laughed. “What? Are you panicked now?” “Are you insane? You watched your own son get swapped and said nothing?” “What kind of mother does that? She’s laughing! She must be a psychopath!” Even Lucas looked at me. He ran over and grabbed my arms. “Why? Why did you do this to me? If you didn’t love me, why did you give birth to me?” He shook my shoulders frantically, but I shoved him away with cold disgust. “Get away from me. You make me sick.” He fell hard onto the floor. I took a deep breath, my smile growing wider. Finally. The day I had been waiting for had arrived.
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