On the day we gave birth, my best friend came to my bedside right after her C-section and swapped away my son. Twenty years later, my best friend’s spoiled son caused big trouble. In front of everyone, she pointed at my academically excellent daughter and proudly said: “Actually, this is my biological child!” I smiled: “They say nephews resemble their uncles. If your son shaved his head, he’d look exactly like your brother!” “This is indeed your biological son…” I saw a woman in a hospital gown at the door of the ward, hunched over and carrying a thick bundle. I quickly closed my eyes and pretended to be asleep. She came in, as expected. Even while enduring the pain of a C-section, she still came to swap my child for a million dollars. After she left, I looked at my fair and chubby daughter lying beside me, my face full of love. Stroking my daughter’s face, I whispered, “That skinny, premature son – whoever wants him can have him.” Two hours later, my husband and in-laws arrived. My room was quiet, with only me, my husband, and the nurse. Olivia’s room was bustling with activity, surrounded by my in-laws, sister-in-law, and a group of relatives. My husband looked a bit embarrassed and comforted me, “It’s okay, Rachel. Our little princess has us, and that’s enough.” I patted his hand, “I just had surgery and I’m feeling weak. Since Olivia has the energy, let her entertain the guests.” She not only swapped babies but also greeted guests. That night, she suffered a severe hemorrhage and was rushed back to the operating room. After being discharged, we both moved into the family mansion to prepare for the babies’ one-month celebration. My in-laws gave Olivia the largest room with the best lighting. She insisted on giving it to me: “Chloe has more severe jaundice, so you should take this room, Rachel.” Looking at the skinny, yellow boy in her arms, and my daughter in mine, who only had a bit of yellow on her hands, I reluctantly accepted. “Thank you, Olivia. You’re such a good friend, forever.”
A year ago, shortly after I married into the wealthy family, my best friend Olivia would cry in front of me every day. She said I had forgotten our promise to “never forget each other if we became rich.” Looking at her strange heavy makeup and the exaggerated expressions on her face, I remembered how five or six years ago, after she hooked up with a rich guy, she cut off contact with all our old classmates. I could only laugh it off and repeatedly deny her accusations. Unexpectedly, half a month later, I saw her getting together with my gambling-addicted brother-in-law. My in-laws didn’t approve, but she got pregnant first and forced a marriage. Her baby was only a month behind mine. Seeing both daughters-in-law pregnant, my in-laws were overjoyed. They declared that whoever gave birth to a son would be rewarded with a million dollars. I didn’t care much, as I hadn’t married my husband for his family’s wealth. Besides, whether it was a son or daughter, both were blessings, and I would love either. Olivia didn’t see it that way. She went everywhere to get her fortune told. She consulted several masters, and they all said she was carrying a girl. She even spent a lot of money trying to change her luck, but to no avail. After all this trouble, she ended up in the hospital for a month to protect the pregnancy. When I was close to my due date, she kept staring at my belly. A mother’s instincts are unusually sharp, so I became wary. Sure enough, on the day my water broke, she arrived at the hospital right after me. She insisted that the doctors perform a C-section on her, saying she had consulted fortune tellers and today was an auspicious day. After my daughter was born, while everyone was distracted, I switched her son with mine in advance. So, the baby Olivia took away was actually her own son.
On the day of the babies’ one-month celebration, the entire mansion was decorated festively, with countless luxury cars gathering and guests filling the halls. The “crown prince” in Olivia’s arms wore a bright yellow outfit, making his little face look even darker. My daughter wore only a pink dress, prioritizing comfort. My in-laws displayed a million dollars in cash on a long table. Olivia’s family members guarded the table, afraid someone might steal a stack. I rolled my eyes. How petty, I thought. Everyone here today is from wealthy families; who would care about your small change? When my mother-in-law put a palm-sized solid gold longevity lock around Olivia’s son’s neck, she immediately took it off and insisted on putting it on my daughter. “Boys are tough; this longevity lock is better for Chloe to wear.” She then took the hollow longevity lock from my daughter’s neck. Everyone praised her for being virtuous, and I chimed in: “You’re so good to Chloe, sister-in-law. If I didn’t know better, I’d think she was your own daughter.” She froze for a moment, then looked at my daughter in my arms with a loving expression. “Of course, of course. We’ve always been best friends, and now we’re sisters-in-law. I just adore Chloe.” I blocked her hand as she tried to reach for my daughter. “Sister-in-law, your son is crying. You’d better go check on him.”
When the children were two years old, they were playing together in the courtyard. Hearing a commotion, Olivia and I came downstairs one after another. Seeing several long, bloody scratches on my daughter’s face, I held her without a word, my face ashen. Olivia went berserk first, slapping her son’s face hard several times in succession. The child’s face immediately swelled up, and he cried breathlessly. After being hit, he still reached out to Olivia, “Mommy, hug.” Olivia kicked him away, “You worthless thing, how dare you bully Chloe? I’ll chop off your hands.” Hearing this, my daughter started crying in fear. Olivia glanced at her and became even angrier. She pressed her son’s head into the swimming pool. “You little bastard, you deserve a beating. Who do you think you are? If your sister’s face scars, I’ll kill you.” She only let go when the child’s little hands stopped struggling. Seeing the child about to sink to the bottom of the pool, I quickly pulled him out. After being rescued, the child kept coughing and spitting water. Olivia held my daughter, comforting her softly. I snorted coldly. A two-year-old child makes a mistake, and she wants to take his life? She thinks this is my son, so she treats him this way. If my daughter were in her hands, she might be even worse off. “Sister-in-law, no matter how wrong Ryan did, he’s still your own son. You almost killed him.” She didn’t even look up: “If he dies, it’s his bad luck. We can always have another one.”
Those words weren’t wrong. She got pregnant again, and this time it was confirmed to be a boy. My in-laws were so happy they couldn’t close their mouths, saying she should go ahead and give birth, and they would give her a million dollars for every boy, no less. Many children bring much happiness, they said. Even ten would be fine. It was because of this that she treated Ryan worse and worse. After all, that million dollars had already been spent. Her brother’s gambling debts, which were paid off with the million dollars at the time, had accumulated again over these two years. Her mother repeatedly came to ask for money, telling her that her own brother was even dearer than her son. From the time she wanted to hook up with a rich guy to buy her brother a phone and computer, I had warned her. Being an overbearing sister wasn’t a good idea; in the end, she would lose everything. She thought I was trying to drive a wedge between her and her brother and cut off contact with me. Now, she came crying to me about how her family was sucking her dry to support her brother. I advised her, “That’s your own brother. If you don’t take care of him, who will? I’ve heard that debt collectors have many tactics these days. If they come to your in-laws, they’ll definitely be unhappy.” Olivia only got a few tens of thousands in living expenses each month, which couldn’t keep up with her brother’s spending. She could only set her sights on having children.
When my daughter was eight years old and just started elementary school, she suddenly went to the hospital. The doctor said it was an allergy, and the symptoms were severe. Olivia arrived at the hospital before me. When I got there, she was arguing with the doctor: “She’s allergic to mangoes, how can it be this severe! You incompetent doctors, give me the most expensive medicine!” “If she gets any worse, I’ll shut down your entire hospital!” A nurse was quietly trying to comfort her, “Ma’am, please don’t worry. We’ve already treated her, and she’ll be fine in a while.” She shouted, “Easy for you to say when you’re not affected! How would you feel if it was your daughter lying there?” The doctors and nurses fell silent, not wanting to argue with her. I ran over, caught my breath, and patted the nurse’s shoulder. “I’m sorry, I’m the child’s mother. Thank you all, please go ahead with your work.” The doctor who had been scolded looked bewildered, “Then who is this?” I forced a smile, “This is the child’s aunt.” The doctors and nurses all looked over. As they left, they gave Olivia a look as if she were crazy. Before leaving, the doctor said, “Ma’am, our hospital’s psychiatric department is quite good. If you often feel overly anxious and stressed, you might want to go check it out.”
After Chloe was discharged, she rested at home for a few days without going to school. During these days, Olivia nearly turned the school upside down. First the principal, then the teachers, were all reported to higher authorities. She accused them of allowing students to poison others at school. She even bought off some tabloid reporters to interview at the school. Banners were hung all over the school. “Unscrupulous school endangers my daughter’s life.” “Corrupt principal allows poisoning and protects the perpetrator.” “Immoral teachers abuse students.” To substantiate the teachers’ crimes, she even beat Ryan, who was in the same class as Chloe, until his face was black and blue. She made Ryan tell the reporters’ cameras that it was the teacher who beat him. The incident involved school food safety and caused a huge stir. Ryan’s body was covered in new bruises mixed with old ones. Every day, Olivia dragged him out to kneel at the school gate, and he looked very weak. Onlookers began to speak up, “The child looks like this, why not take him to the hospital?” “These injuries are clearly new. Could the teacher still go to their home to continue beating?” “What a mess in your circle. Rich people don’t go to the police when something happens, just put on heavy makeup and sit in luxury cars blocking the school gate every day.” More and more onlookers were saying Olivia was putting on an act. It wasn’t until I brought Chloe to the school gate that this farce was stopped. I also called reporters and clearly explained the whole story. The child was allergic to mangoes, and her classmate didn’t know and shared some mango candy with her. It was our fault as parents for not doing enough. I hope everyone will stop discussing this matter. As for my sister-in-law’s disturbance to the school, I sincerely apologize. And the lawsuit against that classmate and their parents, we will withdraw it immediately. I hope everyone will let the children study in peace.
My in-laws care most about their reputation. After my husband told them about this incident, They were unforgiving towards Olivia, who had given birth to four grandsons. At a family gathering, they made her kneel down in front of everyone and reflect on her behavior. Olivia lost a lot of face, and my husband was very worried. “Will Olivia take it out on Chloe? After all, she did all this for our daughter.” I assured him, “She won’t. Olivia loves Chloe so much, how could she blame her?” She couldn’t wait to dote on Chloe; if she were to take out her anger on anyone, it would only be on her own son. That night, we heard ghostly wails and screams of a child being disciplined. Ryan cried the loudest, “Mom, I’m your son. Why do you always hit me because of my sister? I feel pain too.” “Shut up, or I’ll sew your mouth shut! How dare you mention Chloe’s name!” In the end, it was my in-laws who couldn’t bear it anymore and took Ryan away. They also stopped Olivia’s credit cards and forbade my brother-in-law from giving her money. Olivia indeed went through a year or two of poverty. She held onto her resentment, pestering my brother-in-law every day. Until she gave birth to her fifth son, she was overjoyed, thinking she would get another million dollars. My in-laws only tossed her twenty thousand dollars. “Having a child, twenty thousand is more than enough. From now on, you’ll have to pay for your own baby formula.”
With less money, she could only rely on quantity. In the following years, Olivia gave birth to three more children in succession. The damage from giving birth to so many children, plus managing eight children over these years, Left her face full of wrinkles, looking nearly ten years older than me. The little money she got was all given to her family. My brother-in-law kept a twenty-something-year-old mistress outside and rarely came home. Even if she wanted to have more children, she couldn’t find anyone. Everyone thought she would be discouraged, sighing like a bitter woman. But she remained energetic every day, even though her sons were all spoiled rotten. Uneducated and incompetent, they relied on the living expenses given by their grandparents, either staying at home playing video games or going out causing trouble every day. Some even dropped out of school, and Olivia indulged them. People were puzzled, but only I understood clearly in my heart. Now that Chloe is twenty years old, she’s already pursuing a master’s degree at a top university. Whether the family inheritance goes to the grandsons or the outstanding granddaughter, She would be the winner either way.
During the New Year’s Eve family gathering, Ryan fled home in a panic. He had taken a drunk girl to a hotel after drinking at a bar. Now she had reported it to the police, and he quickly ran back home. Kneeling in front of his grandfather, he begged him to save his eldest grandson. “Grandpa, please save your eldest grandson. When I helped that girl out of the bar, she clearly didn’t resist.” “Grandpa, don’t you have friends at the police station? This girl is falsely accusing me, you should have her arrested.” Seeing his grandfather’s face turning purple with anger, his father smashed the wine glass in his hand onto Ryan’s head. Blood flowed down his forehead, and Ryan crawled towards his mother, dragging his 300-pound body. “Mom, save me. I’m your own son.” His brothers standing nearby all folded their arms, watching with detached interest. It seemed as if the one kneeling on the ground begging for help wasn’t their brother, but an enemy. Olivia crouched down to wipe the blood from his face, “Ryan, you’ve caused such big trouble, even I can’t help you.” Grandfather exploded in anger, “Enough! Olivia, look at the good son you’ve raised. You take him to turn himself in right now. We didn’t see him today!” “And you, we can’t afford a daughter-in-law like you in our family. When you come back, divorce Tyler and leave with nothing!” Olivia panicked instantly. She grabbed Chloe, who was sitting next to her grandparents, and before anyone could react, she blurted out: “Dad, it’s not me who should leave. Ryan is Tyler and Rachel’s son, and Chloe is my real daughter!”
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