I saw the nanny swap her baby with my sister. Just as I was about to switch them back, a the live commentary scrolling across my vision **[This must be the start of Alice’s nightmare, right?]** **[Her biological sister is actually a born devil.]** **[At three years old, she’d stab her sister’s eyes with a fork.]** **[At ten, she’d put mercury in her sister’s milk.]** **[At eighteen, she’d sell her off to some remote place just to claim the inheritance…]** **[She’s nothing like the nanny’s girl – so sweet and docile!]** **[The choice of who gets to be her sister is entirely up to Alice now.]** I quickly put the baby down. Actually… blood ties aren’t *that* important, right? Who truly cares for me is what matters most. My mom was being rushed into the delivery room, and my dad and I were pacing anxiously in the hospital corridor. The doctor’s warning before he entered the emergency room still echoed in my mind. He’d said the baby was in a difficult position and might require a C-section after attempting natural birth, so we should prepare ourselves. We waited for nearly four hours, until finally, my dad and I heard a baby’s cry. Mother and daughter were safe. When the nurse wheeled Mom and my sister out, Mom was still groggy from the anesthesia, completely lost in a deep sleep. Back in the hospital room, Mrs. Davis, our nanny, who had been waiting since early morning, immediately came forward, eager to care for Mom. My dad quickly waved her off. “No, no, Mrs. Davis. You just gave birth yourself; you should go rest first.” It was a strange coincidence; Mrs. Davis and my mom had given birth on the same day. But Mrs. Davis had a natural delivery and was out of the delivery room much earlier. She was still quick on her feet and, as soon as she was cleaned up, she hurried to Mom’s room. When my dad insisted, she just waved her hand, looking completely unfazed. “We’re not that delicate, Mr. Peterson. My mother-in-law was back working in the fields the day after she had my husband.” Mrs. Davis’s honest husband, Mr. Davis, stood beside her, nodding in agreement. Even though my dad tried to protest further, Mrs. Davis had already taken the warm towel from his hand and gently wiped the cold sweat from Mom’s forehead. Mrs. Davis then nudged me forward. “Alice is still young, and she’s been hungry for a long time. Mr. Peterson, you should take Alice out to eat.” She added that my dad was a big man, clumsy with babies, and would only be in the way in the room. My dad looked a bit awkward but also seemed to relax. Clearly, he was quite pleased with Mrs. Davis’s initiative to stay and look after Mom. Besides, Mrs. Davis had worked for our family for many years and had never made a single mistake. After a moment of hesitation, my dad agreed. “We’ll be back soon.” Then he picked me up and carried me downstairs. On the way, he said, “See, Alice, Mrs. Davis is so good to you. You must never bully her daughter, Chloe, when she grows up.” I nodded obediently. But when we reached the car, my dad realized he’d forgotten the car keys. Just then, his phone rang. He pointed to the hospital building and quietly asked me to go up and fetch the keys for him. Thankfully, I remembered the way back to the room. I ran back to the hospital room with light steps, only to find the door locked. I stood on tiptoes, about to knock and ask Mrs. Davis to open the door. The next second, through the glass panel, I saw her pick up the baby lying beside Mom. Then she placed the unfamiliar baby she was holding into the spot where my sister should have been. She even carefully swapped the wristbands on the infants. My eyes widened, and I held my breath, my entire body tense. Suddenly, out of the corner of my eye, I saw a man swaying as he walked towards the room. Instinctively, I opened the door to the next room and ducked inside. It was Mrs. Davis’s husband, Mr. Davis. Through the slightly ajar door, I heard Mrs. Davis, holding the baby, complaining incessantly to him. “I told you to stand guard at the door, but you just *had* to go take a pee! What if the Petersons find out we swapped the babies?” “If we get caught, neither of us will get off easy, and your daughter won’t be a little lady anymore!” Mr. Davis offered a placating smile. “Oh, come on, I saw them go downstairs to the car. How could they possibly come back? Don’t scare yourself.” Their voices gradually faded away. I tremblingly left the room where I had been hiding, feeling like my whole body was shaking uncontrollably. Terrified, I couldn’t stop crying. I went to Mom’s bedside and kept pushing her, wanting to wake her up and tell her that my sister had been swapped. But Mom was still under the effects of the anesthesia, completely unconscious. No matter how much I pushed, she wouldn’t wake up. I gritted my teeth, intending to pick up the swapped baby and switch her back with my sister. But at that exact moment, the live commentary overlays inexplicably appeared before my eyes— **[Go on, swap them back. Bring your family’s born devil home, and then you’ll learn your lesson.]**
The strange words that had appeared seemed fixed in front of me. Even if I waved my hand to scatter them, they would reappear seconds later. And the content of the words grew more and more alarming. **[That devil, at three years old, she’d stab her sister’s eyes with a fork. At ten, she’d put mercury in the milk her sister was about to drink. Her sister was lucky to even survive to adulthood.]** **[Yeah, and she only lived to adulthood, right? At eighteen, the devil sister sold her off to some remote place…]** **[If it were me, I definitely wouldn’t swap them back. This sweet girl from the nanny’s family is so much better. At least you wouldn’t have to worry about dying any day.]** My hand, poised to pick up the baby and swap my biological sister back, froze in mid-air. I didn’t know what these sudden, strange words were, but I felt an overwhelming fear growing inside me. If I swapped my sister back, would I really end up like they said? Living in constant anxiety and danger until I was eighteen, only to be sold off to the countryside by my sister before I could truly enjoy the world. I instinctively wanted to wake Mom, but she wouldn’t open her eyes no matter what. All I could do was clutch my dress, squatting on the floor and sobbing uncontrollably. Before my sister was born, Mom and Dad had told me countless times to be good to her. Because I was the older sister, and older sisters were naturally supposed to be good to their younger siblings. I knew I should run to the hospital front desk and tell the nurses and doctors that my sister had been swapped. But I was too scared. I didn’t dare. I was terrified that if I brought my sister back, my future would be ruined by her. My eyes were red from crying, gasping for breath. Just then, my dad came panting up the stairs. He’d just finished scolding me for dawdling and taking so long to fetch the keys. The next second, he saw me sobbing, almost collapsing, and quickly hugged me, soothing me gently. “What’s wrong, Alice? Don’t cry, don’t cry. Did someone bully you?” I clutched my dad’s shirt collar, shaking my head through my tears. After finally catching my breath, I blurted out a flimsy excuse with red-rimmed eyes. “No, I just… suddenly missed Mom.” My dad sighed helplessly, stroked my head, and said I was a good daughter. Then, telling Mom and my sister to rest well, he picked me up and carried me out. Before he closed the door, I glanced back at the bassinet. The baby Mrs. Davis had given birth to was awake. Her big, clear eyes stared directly at me. Then she smiled, showing off her soft, pink gums. In that moment, I suddenly made my decision— I’d take a chance. I’d trust the the live commentary just this once. Staying alive was what mattered most!
What happened in the following years made me incredibly grateful for my decision as a child. Because I kept silent about Mrs. Davis swapping the babies, she was able to remain our nanny. To verify the truth of the the live commentary , and also to ensure my real sister wouldn’t truly disappear. I even suggested to Mom and Dad that, to make it easier for Mrs. Davis to balance family and work, she should bring “her daughter,” Bella, to live with us. And it was precisely because of this that I confirmed those the live commentary hadn’t lied to me. Bella, that girl, was truly a born devil! During infancy, Mrs. Davis’s biological daughter, now my sister Chloe, was an angelic baby. She rarely needed to be woken up at night, didn’t cry much, and just smiled at us when she was full. Bella, however, couldn’t be put down; she insisted on being held to sleep. Otherwise, she’d scream her lungs out, which eventually caused Mrs. Davis to develop chronic back pain. As they grew, the contrast between the two girls became even more apparent. Chloe started feeding herself at a very young age. Though she ate slowly and sometimes spilled a bit. She wasn’t picky and sat there obediently. Bella, on the other hand, was three years old and still demanded Mrs. Davis feed her. And when Mrs. Davis was a second too slow, Bella grabbed her kiddie fork and brutally stabbed Mrs. Davis right in the eye. Blood gushed. Leaving her with permanent vision damage in her right eye, nearly half-blind. In that moment, I clamped my hand over my mouth, desperate not to scream. Thank goodness… I hadn’t swapped the babies back then, or I would have been the one blinded. Mrs. Davis was getting her just deserts, in a way. As Bella grew, her lack of empathy and cruelty became increasingly obvious, and her destructiveness grew stronger. At ten, Bella smashed the thermometer at home and poured the mercury into Mrs. Davis’s thermos. If Mrs. Davis hadn’t had her stomach pumped in time, she probably would have died that day. We all witnessed Bella’s actions towards Mrs. Davis. And throughout those eighteen years, her frequent acts of bullying classmates were atrocious. Every time Mom and Dad saw her like this, and then looked at Chloe, who was always trailing behind me like a little shadow, excelling in both academics and character. They couldn’t help but sigh. “Mrs. Davis’s daughter…” “What a difficult life she’s had…” But I couldn’t help but inwardly sneer. Serves her right! If she hadn’t come up with such a sinister scheme to swap the babies, *I* would have been the one suffering, *our family* would have been suffering! So, just before Chloe’s eighteenth birthday celebration. As my parents and I were discussing how to throw a grand coming-of-age party for her. Bella suddenly burst into our house, shouting that she was the real long-lost daughter and Chloe was a fake. My parents’ first reaction was that she was lying.
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