I am a beautician, but even my husband doesn’t know that I have another identity—a rejuvenation specialist.

I can keep people looking young, and most importantly, I can use my family’s secret art to change someone’s face.

One day I came across a buyer from the same city. The person who was to receive the face change had the exact same name and birthday as mine. I thought it was just a coincidence.

But that very night after I shipped the package, my husband Daniel Moore warmly brought me a bowl of chicken soup.

The moment I caught the familiar scent of herbal supplements, I realized—the buyer was Daniel himself.

Under his attentive gaze, I smiled and lifted the bowl, drinking it all down.

Since he missed his dead first love so much, then he could go down and join her.

“Ding-dong, you have a new order.”

The computer chimed, and I immediately clicked on the chat box.

“Hello, I heard you sell medicine that can let someone change their face.”

“Yes, but I need the names and birthdates of both the one changing and the one whose face is being taken.”

I worked at a beauty salon, but face-changing was my secret side business.

Orders were rare, so I could easily balance both jobs.

First, too few people believed in it; second, the price was too high.

So whenever I saw someone inquiring, I knew I was about to make a big profit.

“I want to change my wife’s face.”

When I first saw the message, I pitied his wife for having such a scumbag husband.

But when I saw the name and birthdate he sent over, I froze.

“Emily Parker? What a small city—same year, same month, same full name as me.”

Running the calculation, I realized he wanted his wife to have the face of someone already dead.

“To go so far as to do this to your own wife… people these days really are unbelievable.”

Muttering, I still took the order.

Even though it was the same name, I never suspected Daniel, because for years we had been deeply in love, raising our adorable son together, living happily.

So it couldn’t possibly be him.

But I never imagined the person I trusted most would give me the heaviest blow.

Once the medicine was ready, I shipped it as fast as I could.

“Honey, let’s eat out tonight, I got a bonus this month.”

Daniel, wearing an apron, peeked out of the kitchen, then came toward me carrying a steaming bowl.

“Sweetheart, you’re home. Try this, I’ve been simmering the chicken soup all afternoon.”

Before I could even take off my shoes, the bowl was already at my lips.

As I leaned in, the familiar scent hit me hard.

I dealt with this scent every day—it was exactly the face-changing formula I had just shipped.

Daniel had no idea that I was the one who made it, and I held back my shock, pretending not to notice.

“This soup smells… a little different than usual, doesn’t it?” I asked deliberately.

Daniel’s face remained calm, full of tender affection.

“Yes, I added some restorative herbs. You work so hard for this family every day—I thought I’d help strengthen your body.”

He nudged the bowl closer again.

When I hesitated, he sighed bitterly.

“For your career, I gave up my own future and stayed home to care for the family. Now even the meals I cook don’t mean anything to you. I’m worthless to this home.”

Seeing I could no longer refuse, I took a sip.

From beginning to end, Daniel’s eyes never left me.

When he saw me swallow, Daniel’s joy was visible.

“Honey, I knew you still loved my cooking. I made all your favorites today. Tomorrow we’ll eat out—go wash up now, dinner’s ready.”

Watching him bustle around, I no longer felt the happiness I once did—only an icy chill.

Dish after dish came to the table, and I realized it wasn’t just the chicken soup—nearly every plate was laced with the medicine.

Finally, Daniel set down a single set of utensils in front of me and sat across the table, watching me eat.

“Why only one set? Aren’t you eating? And where’s Ethan? Why didn’t you call him for dinner?”

Daniel adjusted his glasses.

“Before you got back, Ethan insisted on fried chicken, so I ordered him some. He couldn’t finish it, so I helped. Now neither of us is hungry. I sent him to his room to do homework.”

“Oh.”

Since there was no avoiding this feast, I went ahead and ate.

After all, I knew exactly what I had mixed. At worst, I’d feel unwell for a few days and could counter it with other medicine.

But I still couldn’t understand why my loving husband would want me to become someone else.

Before I had time to figure it out, another shock arrived.

The next day, I got a call from my son’s teacher.

“Are you Ethan Moore’s mom? I’m Ms. Johnson, his homeroom teacher. Do you have time to come to school?”

It was the first time Ethan’s teacher had contacted me. Normally, everything about Ethan—especially schoolwork—was handled by Daniel.

My first thought was that Ethan had caused trouble.

“Ms. Johnson, did Ethan misbehave in school?”

“No, nothing like that. There’s just something I need to ask you about.”

Puzzled, I went anyway. Compared to me, the workaholic mother, she usually spoke with Daniel.

“Usually my husband takes care of Ethan’s matters,” I explained.

“I know, but I still think I should talk to you in person.”

“All right.”

I tidied up and drove to the school.

In the office, Ms. Johnson pulled out a notebook.

“Mrs. Parker, please take a look—this was an assignment from this week.”

A little embarrassed, I said,

“Did he skip the homework? Usually it’s his dad who watches over him. I haven’t been as involved.”

“Please, just read it.”

I opened the notebook.

In childish handwriting, it read:

“My mom is not my mom. Dad says soon I’ll get to see my real mom.”

My blood ran cold.

Ms. Johnson said gently,

“I don’t know if you and Ethan’s father are having problems, but please try not to let adult matters affect the child.”

My mind went blank, flashing back to Daniel’s strange behavior lately.

I didn’t think this was just a child’s imagination.

“Thank you for noticing in time. I’ll talk to Ethan when we get home. Sorry for troubling you.”

Back home, I said nothing.

I went to Ethan’s room—a place I rarely entered.

And there, I found something shocking.