Chapter 1
As I lay dying, I felt a deep sense of contentment, thinking back on a life blessed with a harmonious marriage and a devoted daughter.
My husband, tears streaming down his face, held my hand tightly as he confessed, "Honey, Lydia isn't your child. She's the daughter of Nina and me.
"We switched the babies back then. The baby you gave birth to died three days after she was born. I saw her pass away with my own eyes."
I stared at my daughter in shock.
She just gazed back at me, her face completely detached, almost emotionless.
She said, "Honestly, your illness wouldn't have gotten worse so fast. I messed with your treatment plan.
"But I never thought you'd hang on this long.
"Don't blame me. It's because of you that our family could never be together, and my mom had to keep living in the shadows!"
I gripped their hands tightly, coughing uncontrollably from the shock, and it took me a long moment to force out a single sentence.
"Why? Why couldn't you just keep it from me until the very end?" I choked out.
"Nina's too kind. She couldn't bear to let you die without knowing the truth," my husband said.
His voice was gentle, but he mercilessly pulled out my oxygen tube.
A sharp, shrill beep from the monitor sliced through the silence.
The next time I opened my eyes, I found myself back on the day I gave birth.
*****
The harsh lights in the delivery room made my eyes sting.
From the adjacent room, I could hear my husband's gentle voice, soothing and encouraging.
"Hang in there, Nina. The baby's almost here!"
As soon as the baby's cry filled the air, both parents burst out in excitement.
"She's here. It's a girl. Look at her. She's got Nina's eyes and brows!"
When I heard the baby's cry, my fingers clenched so hard my nails bit into my palm.
I had really time-traveled back here.
I was back to twenty-seven years ago, to the very day my daughter was born.
The nurse slipped out from behind the curtain, cradling the baby in her arms, her movements furtive and suspicious.
Ignoring the pain from just giving birth, I rushed out of bed and grabbed the nurse by the arm.
"Don't touch my baby!" I shouted.
The nurse jumped, clearly startled that I'd woken up so fast, but she quickly regained her composure.
"Mrs. Everhart, you really shouldn't be out of bed right now. You just gave birth," she said.
I stared intently at the bundle in the nurse's arms.
The baby's wrist was perfectly clear.
There wasn't a single red birthmark.
My daughter had no red birthmark.
In my previous life, the baby Ethan handed to me had a tiny red birthmark on her left wrist.
Ethan and his parents insisted it was just a birthmark, saying it looked exactly like the one I had as a kid.
I bought it.
Suddenly, hurried footsteps echoed from outside the door.
Ethan pushed the door open and walked in, still smelling strongly of disinfectant.
He was frowning deeply.
"Siena, you just gave birth. If you keep moving around like this, you'll mess up your health for good!" he said.