My Sister-in-Law Swapped My Baby

"Mom, doesn’t my skin look even more yellow? I feel like I’m turning into pure gold!"

"Yes, yes, Sharon! I’d say you’re carrying our golden blessed child!”

I opened my eyes in shock and saw my mom holding a large bowl of chicken soup, doting on my sister-in-law.

When Sharon Fox noticed me, she quickly handed me the bowl. "Fiona, you drink this first. Even if I’m carrying a golden blessed child, you’ll always be our family’s sweetheart."

I glanced at the oily broth floating in the clear soup and raised an eyebrow at her. "I’m going to the hospital for a check-up. Are you coming?"

My mom’s expression changed instantly. She rushed to stop Sharon from getting up. "You mustn’t go to places like that. What if it offends the blessed child? How will we ever get rich then?"

Sharon’s eyes flashed with a trace of defiance, but she quickly replaced it with a smile. "I’d love to go with you, Fiona, but hospitals are just so inconvenient for someone like me."

She leaned back into the sofa, looking comfortable. "Oh, and don’t forget to pick up some fruit on your way back. Thanks, Fiona."

With that, my mom rushed to the kitchen and returned with another large bowl of chicken, this one brimming with meat, and placed it in front of Sharon.

Watching them, I shifted my gaze back to the bowl of soup they had given me earlier—clear and transparent without a single shred of meat in it.

Yet they always claimed I was the family’s favorite.

Without another word, I turned and left, hailing a cab to the hospital on my own.

In my last life, I treated Sharon like a real sister. I encouraged her to follow proper prenatal care, even taking her to the hospital for a check-up despite my mom and brother’s objections.

The results? My baby was perfectly healthy, but Sharon wasn’t pregnant at all—she was carrying a malignant tumor.

My mom and brother, blinded by superstition, were convinced that Sharon’s increasingly yellow complexion meant she was carrying a golden blessed child. Ignoring all reasoning, they insisted on sending her back to the countryside to rest and prepare for childbirth.

After ten long months, I endured a harrowing labor, barely escaping death’s door, only to be told by my mom that my baby was stillborn.

Then Sharon returned from the countryside, cradling a plump, fair-skinned baby girl.

Sensing that something was deeply wrong, I immediately demanded a DNA test for Sharon and the baby. To appease me, they readily agreed.

But on the night before the test, my mom and brother smothered me to death with a pillow.

After killing me, they wasted no time cremating my body and seizing all my assets.

It was only in death that I finally understood the truth. The mother who always claimed to love me unconditionally, who insisted she didn’t favor sons over daughters, had never seen me as anything more than a tool to extract wealth from my in-laws.

They purposely sown discord between me and my in-laws, terrified that if I walked away, their only source of exploitation would vanish.

The sheer thought of it made me tremble with rage.

If they cherished Sharon’s so-called "golden blessed child" so much, this time I’d make sure to uncover whether that blessed child would bring fortune or disaster.