Blurb：
Vanessa Collins wakes up reborn on the day she gave birth, haunted by memories of her past life’s betrayal. Her sister Amber swapped their babies—Vincent and an unknown father’s child—leading to decades of deception. Now, with Chris as her husband and her father involved, Vanessa must protect her true son marked by a birthmark on his right foot. As Amber’s cruelty unfolds, Vanessa plots her revenge, uncovering secrets about Vincent’s real parentage and the sinister plot that drowned her. In this tale of family drama and redemption, will Vanessa rewrite her fate or fall prey to Amber’s schemes again?
Content：
My little sister,who’d always acted so sweet and obedient, got pregnant before marriage and gave birth on the very same day as me.
I poured my heart into raising my son, while her son was abused daily by her, until he eventually died at the hands of a violent criminal.
Twenty years later, my son conspired with my sister to drown me in the sea.
“Sis, you’ve been Vincent’s mom all these years. Now it’s time to make way for his real mother.”
Before I could even process what was happening, a blinding white light sent me back to the day I gave birth.
“Keep your voice down! What if Vanessa wakes up?”
“Relax, she’s weak from childbirth. She won’t wake up for at least an hour or two. Hurry up and swap the babies. So annoying! If only Vanessa hadn’t insisted on using her own swaddle for the kid, we wouldn’t have to go through all this trouble.”
The suffocating feeling of seawater from my previous death still clung to me as I struggled to open my eyes. Tough the haze, I saw two shadowy figures hovering over my son’s bassinet.
I struggled to open my eyes, desperate to see their faces. Finally recognizing them, I fell back into a deep sleep.
When I woke again, the first thing I did was check my baby’s foot.
Seeing the smooth sole of his right foot, and recalling my sister Amber’s words before I died, my heart sank to the pit of my stomach.
Holding onto a sliver of hope, I went to the bassinet holding Amber’s child and unwrapped the swaddle.
The moment I saw the birthmark on the sole of his right foot, I covered my mouth, tears falling silently.
So it wasn’t a hallucination. What I heard the nurse say in the delivery room before I passed out was real.
My child really did have a black mole on the sole of his right foot, just like a storybook child marked by fate.
In my past life, the child I raised wasn’t my own, but Amber’s son, whose father was never known.
While my father and, my husband Chris, were off registering the births, and Amber was still sleeping weak from her C-section, I quickly swapped the babies back.
They’d chosen a shared room for convenience, and now, it worked in my favor.
Once my real son was back in my arms, I ignored my own exhaustion and brought my son into my bed to sleep with me. Then I took out my phone and called my secretary, instructing her to find me a new postnatal care facility.
I couldn’t trust my father, my husband Chris, or the postnatal center and nanny they arranged. Not a single one!
Just as I finished these arrangements, both babies started crying.
I clumsily fed my son, and he fell asleep after drinking his fill. But Amber’s son kept wailing.
“Cry, cry, cry! Is that all you know how to do? So annoying! I’ll pinch you to death if you don’t stop, I swear.”
With my father and husband gone, Amber hissed and pinched the child through his clothes.
She glanced at me while she cursed, seemingly checking for my reaction.
Too bad. I pretended not to notice.
After all, it wasn’t my son being abused.
Finally, a nurse from the station heard the noise and came to carry the child.
“Ms. Collins, the baby is hungry. You should feed him.”
“What?” Amber shrieked. “Feed this little bastard? No way.”
“Do you have formula and a bottle prepared then? The baby will have problems if he starves. He might end up in the NICU. If you’re not able to prepare it yourself, I can take him to the nursing station, feed him, and bring him back.”
“We don’t have any of that. Just take this little bastard away. All he does is cry; it’s driving me crazy. If you don’t take him, I’ll pinch him to death!”
Amber’s face was vicious. The nurse, truly afraid she might kill the child right there in the hospital, took the baby and left.
As she walked away, I heard her mutter, “What kind of mother is that? Calling her own child a bastard, unwilling to feed him when he’s crying like that. She’s insane.”
The nurse’s words almost made me laugh.
Amber wasn’t insane; she just thought that wasn’t her child and enjoyed the abuse.
In my past life, she’d visited my home every day, caring diligently for the boy she believed was hers.
I wonder what expression she’ll have when she finds out the truth.
After my postnatal recovery, Dad asked us all to move back home. For specific reasons, I agreed.
Given a second chance at life, I just wanted my child to grow up safe and sound, so I named him Noah Collins. Amber’s son, was named Jax.
Under the pretense: “A lowly name is easier to raise.”
My child was raised with meticulous care, while Amber’s son boy barely scraped by, often going hungry. Born on the same day, Noah stood a head taller than Jax, looking a year older.
“Sis, Noah’s fifth birthday is tomorrow. How are you planning the party?”
“Haven’t decided yet. What about you? How are you celebrating Jax’s birthday?”
Amber snorted. “That bastard’s child? As long as he doesn’t starve, it is enough. A birthday? He doesn’t deserve one.”
“Seems you really hate his father. Well, it’s your child. If you say he doesn’t deserve it, then he doesn’t.”
As soon as I finished, a hidden flicker of delight passed through Amber’s eyes.
“Birthdays are minor. Just try to hit him less. He’s growing up. What if he resents you later?”
“This little beast? How dare he! If he dares resent me, I’ll beat him to death! Fatherless brat! Keeping him around is me being merciful already!”
Amber clenched her fists, rage burning in her eyes. I knew Jax was in for a bad night.
After all, in my past life, Amber often hit the child right in front of me.
Back then, my heart broke seeing him bruised and battered. I could only plead with her to stop, but Amber’d only pretend to agree, then hit him harder, especially after seeing my distress.She’d even deliberately show me the child’s injuries.
As we spoke, the sound of shattering china came from the kitchen.
Amber dashed over, dragged Jax out by his ear, and kicked him to the ground right in front of me.
“You little beast! Getting bold, stealing food from the kitchen!”
Jax, bruised and swollen, looked at us and whispered, “Mom, I’m hungry.”
Smack!
Amber slapped him hard across the face.
“Hungry? Are you saying I starve you? Look at Noah, studying hard in his room. And you, idiot, only think about eating!”
“Go kneel in the corner! Don’t get up until I say so!”
Terrified of another beating, Jax limped over to the corner and knelt.
“Sis, sorry you had to see that. This child just needs discipline. Noah is so much better behaved.”
Amber stared intently at me, wanting to see a trace of heartache in my eyes. But I just lightly patted her shoulder. “Spare the rod, spoil the child. If he’s stealing this young, he needs correction. You’re the one suffering, having to deal with a child like this.”
Amber didn’t expect me to say that. Her face froze for a second before she replied, “Exactly! Who knows who this brat takes after? If only he could as good as Noah.”
Fuming, Amber went upstairs, stopping by the corner to give Jax a hard kick on her way.
Jax lost balance, smashing his head against the wall. Blood streamed down his forehead, but Amber just glanced at him and walked away without looking back.
Watching her retreating figure, I felt like laughing. Amber, Amber, I really want to see your face when you realize the child you’ve been abusing is your own son.
That collision injured Jax’s brain. Already behind in development due to malnutrition, his intellect clearly fell further behind. Not only did he struggle academically, but he’d also sometimes scream or lash out at others when agitated.
Not wanting to to invite gossip, Dad used his influence to enroll both boys in the same elite private school..
Noah, however, was the honor student representative every semester, while Jax was frequently called to the principal’s office for his studies and behavior.
“How can anyone be as stupid as you? Even a pig is smarter! What other kid gets called to the principal’s office twice a week?”
“You’ve embarrassed me in front of everyone! I’ll beat you senseless!”
“Mom, I’m sorry! Don’t hit me! It hurts!”
The sound of a hanger striking flesh, her furious shouts, his desperate pleas—the room was chaos.
Hearing the commotion, Noah frowned at me. “Mom, can you go stop Aunt Amber? Jax might get beaten to death.”
I sighed. “If I go, she might stop for now. But after, Jax will suffer even more. Do you still want me to go then?”
Noah thought for a few seconds, then shook his head sadly. “Forget it, Mom. Let’s not.”
A few minutes later, a tired Amber came out holding a bloody hanger. She gulped down some water viciously and collapsed on the sofa.
“So useless. He might as well die early.”
“Noah’s so smart, the honor student every time. Clearly takes after his mom. I wish Noah were my son.”
Then she noticed Noah standing in the corner, staring terrified at the hanger in her hand.
This time, due to my vigilance, Amber and my husband hadn’t had the chance to brainwash Noah. Naturally, Noah didn’t think he was Amber’s son, nor was he corrupted by them.
Seeing how frightened Noah was, I comfortingly patted his head and told him to go to his room to sleep.
Amber, also afraid of truly scaring Noah, quickly hid the hanger behind her back.
After Noah went upstairs, Amber looked at me pretentiously. “Sis, did I go too far? That little brat Jax was coughing up blood from my beating.”
I knew she wanted to see heartache in my eyes, to feed off my pain as she abused my son.
Too bad for her. She was destined to be disappointed.
It was her son being hit, not mine. Besides, this same child had gotten me killed in my past life.
Even if she beat him to death, I wouldn’t feel an ounce of pity—I’d applaud.
“Spare the rod, spoil the child. Though you were a bit harsh, it was for Jax’s own good.”
“Besides, Jax is your son. As his mother, you have the right to decide how to educate him.”
Jax was badly beaten this time and spent a full week in the hospital before returning to school.
But on his very first day back, he and Noah were taken hostage by a knife-wielding madman attacking people in the street.
Amber rushed over as soon as she got the news, furiously confronting me.
“Vanessa, what’s wrong with you? Why didn’t you have someone protect Noah?”
I rolled my eyes in exasperation. “Your Jax is there too. Instead of worrying about Noah, maybe think about how to save your own Jax.”
Only then did Amber notice Jax was also in the madman’s grasp.
She yelled at Jax, enraged. “You little brat! What did I tell you? I told you to protect Noah! Is this how you do it?”
“If anything happens to… to Noah, I’ll beat you to death!”
Amber’s reaction was too strange. People around were pointing and whispering. Dad, who arrived later, quickly pulled her sleeve and gave her a look.
Only then did she realize her reaction was overly abnormal and quickly added, “Didn’t I teach you, as the older brother, to protect your younger brother?”
Amber’s reaction made the kidnapper realize Noah was more important than Jax. He grinned viciously, raising his knife straight towards Noah’s chest.
I rushed over to save him.
But someone was faster than me.
Driven by a mother’s instinct to protect her child, Amber slammed into the attacker, shoved him off balance, and pulled Noah toward the crowd.
Enraged, the knifeman turned all his violence on Jax.
One stab, two stabs…
Just as he was about to deliver the third stab, the criminal was shot dead.
Jax was rescued and rushed to the hospital at top speed.
In the hospital, Jax was bleeding heavily during surgery.
A nurse ran out of the operating room, calling the blood bank on the phone: “The patient is hemorrhaging! Prepare three bags of 400ml Type B blood, stat!”
Hearing “Type B,” Amber froze, then rushed over and shook the nurse. “What did you say? What blood type did you just say?”
“Type B, Type B! Don’t you understand? Let go of me! Someone’s life is on the line inside!”
“No… it can’t be… How is that possible? How can he be Type B?”
Terror filled Amber’s face. She kept muttering, then collapsed onto the floor.
I knew she had figured it out.
I am Type A. My husband is Type O. There’s no way we could have a Type B child.
But Amber is Type B. It’s possible for her and my Type O husband to have a Type B child.
There were only two babies in the room that year. So the one in the operating room was her biological child.
Amber turned back, staring at me desperately, as if I held the only thread of hope.
“That’s right. The one inside is your biological son.”
“How does it feel to have sent your own son to his death? My dear sister.”
Amber broke down, screaming at me, “You knew it! You knew all along, didn’t you?”
I pretended to be confused. “Knew what? That you all conspired to switch my child? Or that you planned to use my son to seize the Collins family fortune?”
“My dear sister, did you really think I knew nothing? Did you think I became company CEO for nothing? Did you think you could stage a coup against me?”
“Even if he were my biological son, he’s still your nephew! The Collins family raised you for over twenty years! Is this how you repay us?”
“Your child is a child, but mine isn’t? You tortured your own son on your own every day, hen delivered him straight into a murderer’s hands. Amber, you’re really something special as a mother.”
As we struggled, the operating room doors opened.
Amber scrambled over on her hands and knees, grabbing the doctor’s lab coat, begging for good news.
But the doctor just bowed his head. “I’m sorry. The child’s injuries were too severe. We couldn’t save him.”
Amber screamed and collapsed to the floor, completely unconscious.
Jax’s funeral was small—he was too young and died unexpectedly. Only the closest relatives came.
By the time I arrived, quite a few people were already standing before Jax’s memorial altar.
Seeing me, Amber, holding Jax’s memorial tablet, rushed at me with reddened eyes.
“Vanessa! You monster! Why did you secretly switch the children!”
“If you had told me earlier that Jax was my son, I wouldn’t have treated him like this! Now you’ve gotten Jax killed! Are you satisfied?”
Hatred filled her eyes; she seemed ready to skin me alive the next second.
Relatives who didn’t know the truth really thought I had caused Jax’s death and came forward to accuse me.
“Vanessa, what did this child ever do to you? Did you have to have him killed? He was your nephew! How could you be so vicious!”
“Even a vicious tiger doesn’t eat its cubs! Jax was your nephew, almost your own son! You beast! How could you stand by and watch your own nephew die? You don’t deserve to be human!”
“As company CEO, you lack even this basic tolerance! How can we trust you to manage Collins Corp? You should step down and make way for someone more capable!”
This comment sparked a growing chorus demanding my resignation.
Among everyone present, only Amber was genuinely grieving for Jax’s death.
Even his biological father, my husband, was like Dad—eyes full of excitement, eagerly hoping the relatives would pressure me to step down so they could take control of the company.
Looking at these relatives with their varied expressions, I felt like laughing.
Some were genuinely outraged for Jax, but most were using this incident to challenge me, to force me to relinquish control of the company.
“What does Jax’s death have to do with me? Wasn’t he killed by you?”
Fearful I might say something, Amber panickily defended herself.
“My son is dead, and you still slander me! If it weren’t for saving your son, would Jax have died? Now your son is fine, and you won’t even acknowledge that we saved him?”
Everyone looked at me with disdain, anger, and annoyance.
“Your son’s life was exchanged for Jax’s! Since your son isn’t here today, you kneel and kowtow on his behalf!”
As soon as Amber finished speaking, Dad and my husband stepped out of the crowd, trying to force me to my knees before Jax’s memorial.
I couldn’t break free, so I kicked over the table holding the offerings.
“Vanessa, you beast! You killed Jax, and now you wreck his memorial altar?”
“Worse than an animal! He was your own nephew! Heaven will strike you down for this!”
“Who do you think you are? Someone like you doesn’t deserve to live in this world! Just die already!”
Curses, accusations, and weeping intertwined.
It was music to my ears.
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