Chapter 1

We had been happily child-free for twenty years—or so I thought. Then my husband brought home a boy, claiming he wanted us to adopt him.

I believed him. I poured my heart and soul into raising that child, signing over all our properties and assets to his name alongside my husband.

A decade flew by. My husband died suddenly of heart failure, his final wish pleading with me to treat the boy well.

Years later, I suffered a stroke and lay paralyzed in bed, waiting for a guardian’s signature for emergency treatment.

The boy sat by my bedside and suddenly laughed.

"You idiot. You actually raised your husband's mistress’s kid your whole life."

He revealed that he was my husband’s biological son, planted there solely to steal my fortune.

"Too bad my mom died early, or you wouldn't have lasted this long."

I glared at him, choked on my own rage, and died right there.

When I opened my eyes again, my husband was walking through the front door, leading that same boy by the hand and handing me a piece of paper.

"Honey, let's adopt a kid so someone can take care of us when we're old. Look, here's the DNA test. We share zero blood relation."

I took the paper, slowly ripped it in half, and smiled coldly.

"Let's get a divorce. You leave with nothing."

The suffocation vanished in an instant. My eyes snapped open.

Above me hung the opulent crystal chandelier of our living room.

My husband, Mark, was walking through the door, leading a ten-year-old boy.

He casually handed me a document.

"Honey, let's adopt a kid so someone can take care of us when we're old."

"Look, this is an official paternity test. We share zero blood relation."

My brain buzzed.

I had been reborn.

Memories of my past life flashed before my eyes like a relentless film reel.

After my stroke left me paralyzed, I signed away every single asset under my name to this supposed "adopted son."

The second the ink dried, he sat at my bedside with a vile, sneering grin.

He told me he was Mark’s biological son from a long-term affair. The paternity test had been completely forged.

He told me that if his mother hadn't died young, Mark would have kicked me out decades ago.

I had choked to death on sheer fury.

And now, Mark was standing before me, handing me that exact same forged report.

He wore a tailored suit, his eyes dripping with hypocrisy and calculated schemes.

Hiding behind him, the boy was eyeing me with venomous curiosity.

My hands gripped my knees so tightly my knuckles turned white.

Given my real temper, I would tear this sheet in two and throw him out on the street right now.

But that would be letting him off way too easy.

I wanted to destroy him piece by piece. I wanted him to kick this bastard out with his own two hands!

I took a deep breath and instantly painted a warm, gentle smile across my face.

I reached out and took the paternity test.

Mark visibly exhaled in relief.

"Mark, you’re so thoughtful," I cooed softly.

"We’ve been married for twenty years without kids. The house really has been lonely."

"He looks like such a bright boy. Let’s keep him."

A flicker of wild joy flashed across Mark's eyes. He hurriedly pulled the boy forward.

"Leo, quickly, call her Mom."

Leo looked up, his expression petulant and defiant.

"Hello, Auntie."

He refused to call me Mom.

Mark's expression froze, and he scrambled to cover it up.

"He's just shy around strangers."

I waved my hand with an easy laugh.

"No worries, take it slow."

"In this house, I’ll make sure he’s very well 'taken care of.'"

Leo shuddered involuntarily, shrinking back behind Mark.

Over the next few days, I played the devoted mother to perfection.

I bought Leo designer clothes and enrolled him in the most prestigious private prep school.

I even cleared out the master guest suite right beside our bedroom just for him.

Mark watched all this, grinning from ear to ear every single day.

He genuinely believed he had manipulated me into submission. He thought he had not only snuck his secret love child into the family, but turned me into their doting, unpaid nanny.

What an absolute clown.

That evening, while Mark was in the shower, I slipped quietly into Leo’s room.

He was fast asleep, drooling all over his silk pillow.

I took out a small pair of scissors and neatly snipped a lock of his hair.

Then, I headed toward the laundry basket outside the master bathroom.

From the dirty shirt Mark had taken off, I plucked a strand of short hair with the root follicle intact.

Early the next morning, I delivered both samples to a private testing lab.

I paid the technician a massive bribe.

"Make me a fake report."

"No matter what the actual science says, the final conclusion must state that these two individuals share absolutely zero biological relation."