Reborn: I Switched My Own Child

After being reborn, the first thing I did was switch my newborn daughter.

In my previous life, soon after she was born, a blood test showed her type was AB. But mine was B, and my husband's was O—there was absolutely no way we could have an AB-type child.

My husband flew into a rage and demanded a paternity test on the spot. To everyone's shock, the results proved she was biologically related to me, but not to him.

He slapped me hard across the face, his voice trembling with disappointment. "I've always treated you well. I only ever loved you—and this is how you repay me?"

My mother-in-law wailed and cursed me for cheating, accusing me of bearing another man's child to steal their family fortune.

I was completely stunned. I knew better than anyone who the father of my child was—how could she possibly not be my husband's?

In no time, everyone turned against me. They called me a cheater, a tramp. My husband divorced me and went online to play the victim, stirring up a storm of hate and harassment that never seemed to end.

With nowhere to go and no one left to believe me, I took my baby in my arms and jumped from a building. Even in death, I couldn't make sense of it all.

And when I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day my daughter was born.

The Day I Was Reborn

"Roxy, you did great. I'll take our daughter for her checkup later."

Jensen Highmore's voice rang gently beside me as he held our baby in his arms, his expression soft and tender.

A sudden chill ran through me as I jolted awake to the realization—I had been reborn. There was no time to think about how or why. I quickly spoke up to stop him. "No need. I'll take her myself. Didn't you say you had to work overtime? You don't have to stay here."

Jensen froze, glancing at me uncertainly. "That's not really a good idea, is it? You just gave birth…"

The more he hesitated, the more anxious I became. I reached out toward him. "I've rested for a day already. I'm fine. It's better if I take her myself."

In my past life, it was right after that checkup that our daughter's blood type came back as AB. Jensen had stormed into the room, furious, and demanded an explanation. Then came the paternity test, the accusations, the slander. When the results showed she wasn't his child, he'd thrown me out of the house with nothing, calling me a cheater and destroying my life. Even now, just remembering the lies he spread about me sent a cold shiver down my spine.

Before Jensen could hand over the baby, his mother let out a sharp, mocking snort beside him. "Some people think giving birth makes them royalty. My son's been breaking his back taking care of the baby, and she still wants to order him off to work overtime. Lazy good-for-nothing. If you can't even give us a son, you might as well admit you're a curse!"

Ever since I'd married Jensen, my mother-in-law had treated me like dirt—never a kind word, never a pleasant face. Jensen was devoted and dutiful, so for his sake, I'd endured everything in silence. But the more I tolerated, the more arrogant she became. She acted as though the hospital ward were her own living room, spitting venom without a shred of shame. Even the other women in the room began to frown.

"That's out of line. A father taking care of his baby is the least he can do."

"You've had children yourself—you know how hard it is. How can you speak to your daughter-in-law like that?"

"Exactly. It's the modern age. Stop clinging to that old-fashioned preference for boys over girls."

My mother-in-law was used to having things her way, so to be criticized instantly made her blood boil.

Jensen quickly jumped in. "Mom, Roxy's my wife. Taking care of her and our daughter is my responsibility. Honey, I'll take Mom home to make you some chicken soup. I'll be right back."

He wore that same strained, peacemaking expression—trying to please everyone at once. Sure enough, the sympathetic looks from those around us began to fade.

I simply watched in silence, cold and distant, and took my daughter back into my arms. The tiny mole on her finger confirmed what I already knew—this was my biological child.

Jensen hadn't switched our baby yet. He hadn't insisted on taking her for the checkup himself. But then, how had she ended up with an AB blood type? And what about that paternity test?

With suspicion twisting inside me, I called my parents and asked them to take care of my daughter for a while. Coincidentally, the hospital had an abandoned infant in the nursery—an O-type baby girl. I took her in temporarily, slipped my daughter's hospital tag onto her wrist, and sent her for the checkup instead.

This time, I was going to find out exactly how Jensen planned to frame me.