Chapter 1 · Baby Body, Adult Mind, Zero Mercy

The delivery room. 1:15 AM. I was born.

In a few minutes, a nurse named Fiona Green would walk through that door to steal me away and swap me with another family's baby.

In my previous life, she succeeded.

I spent twenty years in squalor before uncovering the truth and returning to claim my identity, only for the impostor to send me to my grave with a cup of poisoned water.

This time, things would be different.

I had served a decade in purgatory, scraping together every redemption point I could, to buy my way back to the living world.

I stared at the clock on the wall, counting down.

One hour and forty-five minutes until Fiona made her move.

In one hour and forty-five minutes, Fiona would push open this door.

She'd say she was taking the baby for a newborn screening.

My mom would be exhausted and wouldn't suspect a thing.

Then Fiona would carry me down the hall to the storage room at the end.

Her cousin, Mira Stone, would be waiting there, holding another newborn girl.

Two ID bands, swapped in three minutes flat.

Naomi Sherman became Naomi Stone.

Joy Stone became Joy Sherman.

That's how they stole twenty years of my life in my previous life.

Right now, I was a newborn baby.

I couldn't talk, couldn't roll over, couldn't even hold my head up.

The only things I could do were cry, grab at anything within reach, and refuse to sleep.

But that was enough.

After ten years working in purgatory, I'd learned one thing: a mother's gut feeling about her child was the sharpest warning signal on earth.

I needed to set it off.

My mom held me for a while, her eyelids growing heavy.

My dad whispered, "Go ahead and get some sleep, honey. I'll keep watch."

That couldn't happen.

In my previous life, my dad couldn't stay awake and crashed on the couch in the middle of the night, which gave Fiona the perfect chance to make her move.

I didn't need my dad watching over me. I needed my mom to hold me close, so close, nothing could come between us.

The moment my mom tried to lay me back in the crib, I unleashed a piercing scream.

It was no ordinary cry. It was a soul-shattering wail.

My mom jolted awake and quickly pulled me back into her arms. "What's wrong, sweetheart? Don't cry."

The moment she held me close, I quieted down instantly.

My eyes were brimming with tears, and my tiny hand clung desperately to the collar of her hospital gown.

My mom paused, surprised. "Look how tightly she's holding on. It's like she's afraid I'll put her down."

My dad reached out to take me. I screamed, louder and sharper than before.

My dad jerked his hand back, startled.

I snuggled right back into my mom's arms, going instantly quiet, still clutching her collar like my life depended on it.

My dad shook his head, half amused, half helpless. "She's only been here two hours, and she already knows to go straight to her mom."

Tears shimmered in my mom's eyes. "She only wants me."

She hugged me close to her chest. "Guess I'm not letting go tonight. I'm sleeping with her in my arms."

Time ticked by, minute after minute.

At 2 AM, my dad started snoring on the couch.

My mom was getting drowsy, too. But every ten minutes, I'd let out a soft whimper.

Only enough to trap her in that fog between awake and asleep.

2:30 AM. 2:40 AM. 2:50 AM.

My heart raced.

At 2:55 AM, faint footsteps echoed down the hallway.

The nurse's rubber soles barely made a sound on the tile. But I heard them.

The footsteps stopped right outside our hospital room.

I heard the doorknob turn quietly.

A woman in a white lab coat quietly pushed open the door.

She looked to be in her mid-thirties, average build, wearing that typical professional smile.

She wheeled in a baby transport cart.

Fiona Green, I had been waiting for you for ten years.

Fiona whispered. "Mrs. Sherman, sorry to disturb you, but hospital policy says I need to take your baby for the routine newborn metabolic screening. A quick blood sample from her heel, and she'll be back before you know it."

My mom blinked sleepily. "Screening? Right now?"

Fiona said, "We usually do it two to four hours after birth, while the baby is calm and easy to handle."

She sounded so professional and gentle, like she knew exactly what she was doing.

That was exactly how my mom fell for it in my previous life.

My mom's hold on me was starting to slip.

This was it. My explosive wail detonated through the ward.

I kicked and trembled violently, curling into a ball.

I clung to my mom's chest with everything I had, ten fingers hooked into her hospital gown, welded in place.

Chapter 1

The delivery room. 1:15 AM. I was born.

In a few minutes, a nurse named Fiona Green would walk through that door to steal me away and swap me with another family's baby.

In my previous life, she succeeded.

I spent twenty years in squalor before uncovering the truth and returning to claim my identity, only for the impostor to send me to my grave with a cup of poisoned water.

This time, things would be different.

I had served a decade in purgatory, scraping together every redemption point I could, to buy my way back to the living world.

I stared at the clock on the wall, counting down.

One hour and forty-five minutes until Fiona made her move.

In one hour and forty-five minutes, Fiona would push open this door.

She'd say she was taking the baby for a newborn screening.

My mom would be exhausted and wouldn't suspect a thing.

Then Fiona would carry me down the hall to the storage room at the end.

Her cousin, Mira Stone, would be waiting there, holding another newborn girl.

Two ID bands, swapped in three minutes flat.

Naomi Sherman became Naomi Stone.

Joy Stone became Joy Sherman.

That's how they stole twenty years of my life in my previous life.

Right now, I was a newborn baby.

I couldn't talk, couldn't roll over, couldn't even hold my head up.

The only things I could do were cry, grab at anything within reach, and refuse to sleep.

But that was enough.

After ten years working in purgatory, I'd learned one thing: a mother's gut feeling about her child was the sharpest warning signal on earth.

I needed to set it off.

My mom held me for a while, her eyelids growing heavy.

My dad whispered, "Go ahead and get some sleep, honey. I'll keep watch."

That couldn't happen.

In my previous life, my dad couldn't stay awake and crashed on the couch in the middle of the night, which gave Fiona the perfect chance to make her move.

I didn't need my dad watching over me. I needed my mom to hold me close, so close, nothing could come between us.

The moment my mom tried to lay me back in the crib, I unleashed a piercing scream.

It was no ordinary cry. It was a soul-shattering wail.

My mom jolted awake and quickly pulled me back into her arms. "What's wrong, sweetheart? Don't cry."

The moment she held me close, I quieted down instantly.

My eyes were brimming with tears, and my tiny hand clung desperately to the collar of her hospital gown.

My mom paused, surprised. "Look how tightly she's holding on. It's like she's afraid I'll put her down."

My dad reached out to take me. I screamed, louder and sharper than before.

My dad jerked his hand back, startled.

I snuggled right back into my mom's arms, going instantly quiet, still clutching her collar like my life depended on it.

My dad shook his head, half amused, half helpless. "She's only been here two hours, and she already knows to go straight to her mom."

Tears shimmered in my mom's eyes. "She only wants me."

She hugged me close to her chest. "Guess I'm not letting go tonight. I'm sleeping with her in my arms."

Time ticked by, minute after minute.

At 2 AM, my dad started snoring on the couch.

My mom was getting drowsy, too. But every ten minutes, I'd let out a soft whimper.

Only enough to trap her in that fog between awake and asleep.

2:30 AM. 2:40 AM. 2:50 AM.

My heart raced.

At 2:55 AM, faint footsteps echoed down the hallway.

The nurse's rubber soles barely made a sound on the tile. But I heard them.

The footsteps stopped right outside our hospital room.

I heard the doorknob turn quietly.

A woman in a white lab coat quietly pushed open the door.

She looked to be in her mid-thirties, average build, wearing that typical professional smile.

She wheeled in a baby transport cart.

Fiona Green, I had been waiting for you for ten years.

My mom blinked sleepily. "Screening? Right now?"

Fiona said, "We usually do it two to four hours after birth, while the baby is calm and easy to handle."

She sounded so professional and gentle, like she knew exactly what she was doing.

That was exactly how my mom fell for it in my previous life.

My mom's hold on me was starting to slip.

This was it. My explosive wail detonated through the ward.

I kicked and trembled violently, curling into a ball.

I clung to my mom's chest with everything I had, ten fingers hooked into her hospital gown, welded in place.