Swapped at Birth, My Revenge Begins

My husband's mistress and I gave birth to our sons in the same freaking hospital room.

After we were discharged, she even moved into the apartment across the hall from us.

My son, or so I thought, was a real hellion.

I quit my job to give him a better life, doing everything myself, burning the candle at both ends.

Years later, I got cancer from all the stress.

I figured my son would at least take care of me.

Boy, was I wrong.

He stole all my savings and dumped me in a run-down shack in the sticks to rot, leaving me to die in agony.

It wasn't until after I kicked the bucket that I found out... he wasn't even my real kid!

My husband had deliberately set it up for me and his side piece to be in the same room, just so he could switch the babies!

He wanted me to waste all my money and time raising their kid.

And my real son?

He was living right across the hall, being turned into a freaking simpleton by that psycho, Tiffany.

Then, I woke up.

...

I was back in the delivery room, next to Tiffany.

The first thing I was gonna do was get my baby back!

"Seriously, Brenda, I'm so jealous. Your kid's gonna be born with a silver spoon!"

The voice snapped me back to reality.

I realized I'd been given a second chance.

I shot up and looked at the baby in my arms.

Wrinkled and sleeping soundly, there it was: a big, blue birthmark on his butt.

I'd seen that thing for over twenty years; I knew it like the back of my hand.

This wasn't my son, it was Tiffany's!

That witch had switched them out right from the start!

"Honey, what's wrong? Is your incision hurting?"

My husband, Mark, asked, all concerned.

I looked at him, anger bubbling inside me.

He cheated on me with Tiffany and swapped our kids!

He schemed to have me pour all my energy into their little monster.

He let my son get abused by that viper, turning him into a vegetable!

Just thinking about it made me want to punch Mark's lights out.

Suddenly, a weak moan came from the next bed.

Mark jumped up, all worried.

"Tiffany? What's wrong? You okay? I'll get a doctor!"

I glanced over.

Tiffany was in her bed, smacking the crying baby beside her.

"Shut up! You're killing me with this nursing! I should've just thrown you in the garbage and let you starve!"

She was hitting my son!

The sound of his cries made me tremble with rage.

Mark was all sympathy too, but for Tiffany.

"Honey, Tiffany's here all alone. It's kinda sad. Maybe I should take her to see a doctor? This pain can't be good."

I smirked inwardly, but put on my best sweet wife act.

"That's so thoughtful of you, honey. Tiffany's young and inexperienced. She probably needs to get checked out. Go ahead, I'll watch the baby."

Sure, I said that, but I held onto that little monster like it was gold, cooing over it and pointedly ignoring Tiffany's baby.

Tiffany saw me snubbing her kid and gave me a smug smile.

"Thanks for watching my little angel, Brenda."

She strutted out of the room, all high and mighty, with Mark holding her arm.

As soon as they were gone, I switched the babies back.

When Tiffany came back, her little hellion was lying in his bassinet, crying his eyes out.

"Worthless piece of trash, always crying! I'll smack your mouth if you don't shut it!"

Tiffany snarled at the baby, even slapping him. He just cried harder.

I pretended not to notice, just clutching my son.

This time, I'd protect him.

I'd make sure he grew up happy and healthy.

As for that other kid... Tiffany liked them dumb, right?

Well, she could just beat her own flesh and blood into a vegetable.

I wondered if she'd regret it when she knew the truth.

Three days later, I was discharged. Tiffany had the nerve to move into the apartment right across the hall!

We lived in a fancy complex, where even renting was expensive.

Tiffany wasn't exactly rolling in dough.

I checked our joint bank account transactions, and sure enough, Mark had transferred over seven thousand dollars.

Exactly one years rent for Tiffany.

Back then, Id married Mark for his kind heart.

I'd brought money, a house, and a car into the marriage.

Mark treated me like gold, showering me with love.

He convinced me to quit my job to take care of our "son".

He swore he'd work hard and provide for us.

But his measly paycheck barely covered the bills, and we were always dipping into my savings.

I bent over backwards trying to raise that monster from an idiot to a college graduate.

Years of stress gave me cancer.

The doctors said it was treatable, but he refused to pay for my treatments.

He sent me to that old shack to die.

That little monster hated me.

"You have all this money and you force me to study? You dont want me to have a good life? Mom says I get all the money when youre dead, so I dont need to work!"

Tiffany stood by him, smirking.

"Didnt you know? This is my real son, your son is that retard at my house. I hit him in the head with a rolling pin. He got lucky and didnt die, but he drools and calls for his mom."

"Too bad his mom is busy raising my son, and will never answer him!

I died locked in that shack, and saw them living happily as a family.

My poor son was shoved into a trunk like an animal.

Then, Tiffany knocked on my door.

The hatred in my eyes almost boiled over.

Tiffany was playing the poor, single mom card, just like before.

"Brenda, do you have any extra formula? I spent all my money on rent, and I cant buy formula. My baby is crying because of hunger!"

I was about to speak when Mark stepped out of the bedroom, holding two expired cans of baby formula.

"Were not rich, formula is expensive. I cant starve my kid to feed yours!"

His kid...

He would rather give his kid big-brand formula and my son the expired stuff.

I slapped the formula out of his hands and scoffed.

"You were going to give this trash to a baby? You want it to die?"

Mark thought I would give Tiffany the good stuff, and quickly said, "Thats not our kid. Who cares if he dies?"

He was right, it wasnt my kid.

But I wouldnt let them have a single thing.

I crushed the expired formula and said, "If you cant afford formula, let him starve."

Mark and Tiffany were shocked.

"Brenda, how can you be so ruthless?"

Tiffany chimed in, "You thought it through, Brenda? If you dont give me formula, my baby could die!"

I stared at her coldly.

"He can die. Ill call the cops. Youll live out your days in prison!"

Mark quickly shielded Tiffany and said, "Fine, dont give it!"

I shoved him away and continued to glare at Tiffany.

"If you dont have money, does your kids dad not have money? Did he use you and run away? Is your kid a bastard?"

Tiffanys face was red.

"Hes not a deadbeat! My husband loves me!"

But then she seemed happy.

"That reminds me! I havent named the baby yet. Maybe Ill call him Bastard!"

I laughed.

"Okay. Its your kid, name him whatever you want."

I looked at the baby.

"Bastard? Great name, its fitting."

Tiffany relaxed and laughed too.

"Right, hes a bastard!"

She thought her baby was my son and mocked my stupidity.

But I knew my son was in the other room, fast asleep, and Tiffany was holding her and Marks kid.

Being called Bastard was the least of his worries.

The kid was growing quickly.

When it was time to go to elementary school, the "bastard" didnt have a birth certificate and was locked in the house.

Tiffany didnt work, and the most fun thing to her was bringing the bastard over for a visit.

The bastard had never seen good food or drinks, and was like a wild animal.

He would run around and steal my sons food.

Thats when Tiffany would beat him with a big stick, and watch my reaction.

Back then, I felt bad and protected him.

But I wouldnt be so stupid now, and watched her perform.

The bastard never drank formula, so he was skinny and small, and he was covered with bruises.

But it wasnt enough.

Back then, Tiffany had cracked my sons head with a stick, turning him into a vegetable.

One day, Tiffany came over, and the bastard saw the bananas on the table.

He ran and started eating them.

Tiffany pulled out her stick and beat him.

"Bastard! I didnt feed you at home? You embarrass me!"

It was already winter, but the bastard was wearing a t-shirt.

His pus-filled wounds were exposed.

He hid behind me.

"Aunt Brenda, save me! I was just hungry, I didnt mean it!"

Tiffany laughed.

"Aunt Brenda, ha ha ha! He called you Aunt Brenda!"

I looked at her calmly.

"He can call me Aunt Brenda."

Tiffany paused, and then laughed.

"Sorry, Brenda, that bastard is like a wild animal. I cant feed him enough, and I dont hit him enough. Or else he wouldnt steal Seans bananas!"

Sean was my son.

Mark and Tiffany thought Sean was their son, and loved him.

I said, "You have to teach him, or else Sean will cry when he sees the bananas are gone."

Tiffany got angrier and started beating him.

"Bastard! Stealing Seans bananas! Ill beat you to death!"

The bastard curled up, weak and frail, but he had a fire in his eyes.

Mark came home with Sean.

Tiffany put down the stick and hugged Sean.

Mark didnt look at the bastard and said, "Sean and Tiffany are close! Look at how well they get along!"

I didnt react, and said, "Sean needs a tablet for school. Maybe Tiffany should buy him one!"

Mark frowned.

"We cant have others buying things for our kid. Dont you have money?"

I said, "My money is at the bank, cant take it out. Whatever, Sean, back to your room."

Tiffany got nervous when I tried to leave.

"Ill buy it! Ill buy the tablet!"

When I was pregnant, I hired a detective to check on Mark and Tiffany.

I had also put all my money in my parents name.

All these years, I had been a housewife, and asked Mark when I needed money.

Marks salary couldnt support two households, but he lived in my house, and wanted me to raise their bastard.

So, he worked multiple jobs.

I didnt let Tiffany off the hook.

I told her all the expensive things that Sean used, and Tiffany bought them.

They used my money back then, and now I was taking it all back.

The bastard looked at Sean and grabbed Tiffanys pants.

"Mom, I want that."

Tiffany slapped him in the face.

"What do you want? I feed you, youre lucky! Youre not as good as Seans toe!"

The bastard was knocked into the corner and spit out blood.

Tiffany hugged Sean and mocked me.

"Brenda, Im beating the kid, why dont you stop me? How heartless are you?"

I laughed.

"Youre hitting your own kid, why would I stop you?"

Tiffany laughed.

"Right! Hes not your kid. Its fine if I beat him to death, nobody will care!"

She smiled and caressed Sean.

"Brenda, Sean is so much different than that bastard, hes well-behaved and smart! You have to raise him well! Save all your money for him, so he doesnt have to work!"

I agreed.

"Of course!"

Tiffany smirked, like she was mocking my ignorance.

She thought I was raising her kid and letting my own kid get beaten.

She thought I was the stupidest person in the world.

I was curious how shed react when she learned that the bastard was her own kid.

When Tiffany and Mark were playing with Sean, I brought the bastard to the kitchen and gave him bananas.

He ate them and hugged my leg.

"Aunt Brenda, youre so nice to me. I wish you were my mom! Can you adopt me? I dont want to live with Tiffany!"

I said sarcastically, "I was even nicer to him back then, and he still locked the sick me away."

Wasnt he happy that his family was together?

How come he was unhappy now that he was with his real mom?

I rubbed his head and said, "You have a mom. Only kids without moms can be adopted."

The bastard thought about this.

I gave him two more bananas, and said, "If others see how youre beat, theyd arrest your mom."

The bastard was smart.

I said a few words, and he did something big that night.

The bastard went downstairs and took his clothes off in the snow and showed people his wounds.

But Tiffany found him quickly and dragged him back.

The bastard ran downstairs and showed his wounds, but he was too quick, and the weather was too cold.

Tiffany was furious and beat him.

She broke the stick and came to borrow a rolling pin.

I refused, and she ran downstairs for a stick.

Tiffany didnt close the door, and I saw the bloody bastard crawl to the table, take a phone, and set it up in the corner.

Tiffany didnt see the phone and started beating the bastard.

The bastard screamed.

"Mom, dont hit me! I wont do it again!"

Tiffany didnt stop.

"Bastard! I feed you! Its fine to hit you! If you piss me off again, Ill beat you to death! You dont have a birth certificate, nobody will know if you die, and the cops cant do anything!"

She was insane and didnt see the phone.

That night, a video of the bastard's abuse went viral.

I checked it out, and it was a video of Tiffany hitting the bastard.

There were comments.

"Shes killing the kid! What happened?"

"The kid is calling her mom, how can she abuse him?"

"She said the cops cant do anything. Lets dox her, and arrest her!"

I commented Tiffanys name and address.

By midnight, the Tiffany was surrounded by people.

Her windows were broken, and people were throwing rotten food and diapers filled with poop.

Tiffany was furious.

She realized the video had been posted from her account, and knew the bastard had done it.

"Bastard! Ill kill you!"

Tiffany grabbed a thick stick and hit the bastards legs!

The bastard screamed.

The neighbors were still there and broke the door open.

"Stop! You're still hitting him! I cant watch this anymore!"

"Look what you did to him! Are you trying to kill him?"

I went in and acted surprised.

"Tiffany, youre insane! Hes your son! Just because your man left, doesnt mean you can take it out on him!"

"Call an ambulance, hes dying!"

The ambulance came, and Tiffany dragged me into it.

She seemed happy.

"Brenda, what if the bastard dies? Arent you sad?"

I said, "Hes not my son, why should I be sad?"

Tiffany laughed and said, "Right, he should die! His own mom wants him to die!"

The doctors came.

"The kids legs are broken and his organs are damaged. We need to test him. Whos his family?"

I shoved Tiffany forward.

"Shes his mom!"

The doctor gave her a piece of paper.

"Pay the bill. Its an emergency!"

Tiffany yawned.

"I dont have money. Save him if you want to. If not, let him die!"

The people got angry and tried to hit her.

"Hes your son! Why arent you saving him? I want to kill you!"

Tiffany said, "Son? Ha, hes a bastard, who cares!"

She looked at me, excited.

She thought the bastard was my son.

The doctors started treating the bastard.

Tiffany sat outside, playing on her phone.

The doctors came out.

"His spleen and liver are ruptured. He needs a transplant. Do a blood test, or hell die!"

Tiffany didnt listen.

Other people did the blood test.

Tiffany shoved me.

"Go! Youll be thanking me if you save him!"

I did the blood test.

The doctor was more frantic.

"We cant find a match! Youre his mom, youre the best choice! Its a life-or-death situation, hes your son!"

Tiffany was indifferent, until she saw me.

"Cant find a match? What about Brenda?"

The doctor got angrier.

"Youre his real mom, nobody else is the best match!"

Tiffany looked at me, wondering why I failed the blood test.

With the doctors insistence, Tiffany got the blood test.

It matched.

"No way! Impossible! The hospital is lying!"

Tiffany stared at the report.

"Im not related to that bastard! How can we match?"

The doctor said, "You have the same blood type, youre his mom! Why are you saying you aren't related?"

Tiffany looked at me in shock!