Reborn: Getting Back My Real Son

In my previous life, my sister thought that since my husband and I had high-paying jobs, she could swap her son with my child without anyone noticing.

But twenty-five years later, the tables turned.

My son had grown into a street thug, while her son—raised under my care—rose smoothly through life. Young as he was, he had already become a CEO. He was dutiful, bought me a villa, and even sent me traveling around the world.

My sister barged into his company, waving a DNA test report, kicking up a scene, only to be thrown out by security.

"Mr. Kieran said that even if you are his biological mother, you never gave him a single day of care," they told her. "So he refuses to acknowledge you."

Breaking down completely, she drove her car into me and ended my life.

When I opened my eyes again, we had returned to the very day she switched our babies.

This time, my sister clutched her own child tightly, a wild, triumphant grin on her face.

"From now on, you can be the mother of a street thug," she sneered. "The villa and all those riches—they're mine!"

Judy Cassatt was too delighted that her voice came out loud and sharp. Everyone in the room froze.

Nate Kieran, My husband, stood right beside me, and the moment he heard her, rage shot straight through him.

"What street thug? Who are you cursing?" he snapped.

But I only stared at the soft, warm child in my arms, my mind drifting. I had actually been reborn—reborn on the very day my sister switched our babies.

In my previous life, she coveted the millions my husband and I would one day leave behind. So she secretly swapped our sons.

She had calculated every step. My husband and I were both high earners, living far better than she ever did.

And she and I had never gotten along. By switching the children, she could make me raise her son for free, while taking out her resentment by abusing mine whenever she pleased.

After her son inherited our wealth, she planned to present a DNA report, reunite their "family," and enjoy a beautiful life.

But reality never played out the way she dreamed.

Twenty-five years later, her son truly succeeded, becoming a billionaire CEO.

My husband and I moved into a luxury villa and traveled the world with the generous money he gave us.

Meanwhile, my son—raised by her—had become a street thug, and their relationship was nearly broken beyond repair.

Still, unwilling to give up, my sister eagerly took a paternity test to meet Phillip Kieran, hoping for recognition. Instead, she was thrown out by the company's security.

Phillip refused to acknowledge her and even spoke to her with contempt.

In her breakdown, she drove my brother-in-law's large van straight into my car. We both died in the crash.

I never imagined that death would bring me back.

And watching her now—clutching her own child, smug and gloating—I understood instantly.

She had been reborn too.

Even with my husband shouting at her, she showed not a hint of fear. She had always been adored by our parents, and with her husband spoiling her too, she grew up willful and unchecked.

Maybe it was the rebirth—or the presence of her child—that gave her even more confidence. She scoffed.

"Your genes are the problem. You can only give birth to a thug. And I'm not even allowed to say it?"