Ongoing · — reads

My Husband Swapped My Daughter with His Mistress's Son

“I’m sorry, Miss Natasha… this is the third DNA test. Steve is really not your biological son.” His words crashed into me like waves. My chest tightened until it was hard to breathe. But deep down, something cold began to settle in. Because I wouldn’t even have done this if not for the accident two weeks ago. My son Stephen was rushed to the hospital and needed a transfusion. The doctor said his blood type was A. Both Stephen and I were O. I thought there must be some kind of mistake only that I overheard Stephen talking to my adopted sister Lana. “I still feel bad, you know… that I wasn’t there for our son. When are you going to tell her I’m his biological mother? I hate pretending to be the ‘auntie.’” “Soon. Just wait until all of Natasha’s inheritance transfers are finalized. After that, she’ll be nothing but my wife on paper. You and I will have everything—and our son will be the rightful heir.” They fooled me for five years, and I refused to let it go on. So I filed for divorce—and this time, I didn’t just leave. I took their son with me, so they’d know the pain of losing a child, just as I did. And it would be too late to beg for forgiveness.