Chapter 2

I dashed into the ward, heart pounding, only to find a baby lying quietly in the crib.

I couldn't really remember what Isabelle looked like, but I did remember her pink clothes, which I had gotten dirty earlier.

Margaret was still asleep. In a panic, I started tugging anxiously at the baby's clothes, desperate to see where the stain was.

Nothing. There was just a smear of chocolate on the pink blanket. The baby's clothes were perfectly clean.

I was furious.

Who was this kid? How dare someone switch them?

I glanced at Margaret, still fast asleep, and remembered my mom's warning. I paced anxiously, biting my lips, and finally made up my mind.

I had to get Isabelle back.

Without wasting another second, I copied the way my mom held babies, climbed onto the couch, and scooped up the baby, not even knowing whose it was. Then I stumbled out of the room, tripping over my feet.

I slammed open the door to the next room and headed straight for the crib. Sure enough, there were pink clothes—smudged with chocolate.

Isabelle was wrapped snugly in a blue blanket.

I quickly swapped them back, bundling Isabelle in the chocolate-stained blanket and hurrying out.

After a frantic dash, I finally put her safely back where she belonged, panting and sweating, holding onto the crib for a rest.

And she still didn't bother to open her eyes, not even for a second.

I grumbled, "If I hadn't gotten you back, you'd be growing up at some stranger's house."

I didn't like being at someone else's house, and I didn't want Isabelle to grow up somewhere else either.

I frowned at her wrinkled, dirty little clothes.

"Matthew? Aren't you supposed to be with your parents?" Margaret asked gently.

I looked up at her with worried eyes.

I apologized, "Mrs. Stone, I'm sorry. I got Isabelle's clothes dirty.

"I was just trying to give her some chocolate, but it melted and got all over her clothes and blanket. I'm really sorry."

I pointed at the stain, and just then, Isabelle grabbed my finger with her tiny hand.

I thought Margaret would scold me like my mom would have, but she just chuckled softly.

She said, "It's okay. See? Isabelle really likes you."

I ran over, panicked. "Really? I can help wash Isabelle's clothes."

Margaret ruffled my hair. "Really, it's okay. Jennifer will take care of it."

Right, Jennifer, a nanny hired by Margaret. She was the one trying to switch Isabelle with another child.

I barely had time to warn Margaret that Jennifer was a bad person before my mom barged in, full of anger.

She said, "Brian was sneaking around like he had something to hide. I scolded him, and he didn't even argue. It seemed that he was waiting for someone.

"Then he saw someone and started laughing like a lunatic."

Just thinking about Margaret's ex-husband, Brian, made my mom's blood boil.

Margaret looked at my mom, sighing.

She said, "Don't mind him. He got nothing left. There's no point getting worked up over someone like that."

She got out of bed and playfully interacted with the baby in the crib. "Everything I have belongs to Isabelle."

Dividing their assets after the divorce had been complicated, so they decided to put everything under the child's name until she came of age.

I tilted my head, not really understanding their words, but staring in wonder at Isabelle, who had suddenly opened her eyes.

Her eyes were even prettier than stars.

I knew it. Jennifer wanted Isabelle because she was cute. She thought she could swap her with her own child. Thankfully, I secretly switched her back.

Ten years flew by. I often went next door to Margaret's to take care of Isabelle.

It was Isabelle's tenth birthday, and we were celebrating with a party at a nice hotel downtown.

Ten-year-old Isabelle Stone wore a white dress. Her hair was braided elegantly, topped with a tiny diamond crown, looking like a princess straight out of a fairy tale.

Isabelle and I waited in the dressing room for our parents, and soon enough, Jennifer arrived.

I looked at her warily, who had often hit her own child. "What are you doing here, Jennifer?"

I recalled the times I had seen her secretly hitting her own daughter in the kitchen.

After I told the grown-ups, she said that she was just punishing her own daughter, and in front of the five of us, she hit her even harder.

Since then, I just let her be. After all, as she said, it was none of my business.

Jennifer gave me a fawning smile.

"Mr. Carter, I brought a birthday present for Ms. Stone," she said.

She took out a beautiful gift box, opened it, and handed it to Isabelle, who was sitting right beside me.

She said, "Isabelle, this is for you. Happy birthday. I hope you'll like it."

Inside was a music box, with a ballerina twirling gracefully in the center.

It was delicate, beautiful, and completely safe.

I breathed a sigh of relief, leaning back in my chair, finally able to relax a little.

Isabelle's eyes sparkled as she took the gift. "Thank you, Jennifer. I really like it."

Nobody saw it coming, but Lydia Warren, who stood behind Jennifer, suddenly swatted Isabelle's hand.

Lydia's eyes were red, and her voice shrill. "This is mine.

"Mom, you promised you'd buy me a music box if I got first place in the exam.

"How did it end up as Isabelle's birthday present?"

She looked around, staring at the pile of birthday presents stacked behind Isabelle. Slowly, tears started to spill.

She yelled, "Today is also my birthday. Isabelle has everything already. Why does she get to take the only gift I was supposed to have?

"Mom, do you even care about me? Am I still your daughter?"

The delicate music box rolled across the floor, but no one even bothered to pick it up.

I stood up, shielding Isabelle behind me. "Get out. Security, please take them out."

Then I turned to Jennifer. "Sorry, but Isabelle can't take your gift. You should just bring it back for your own daughter."

Isabelle, who had been protected and cared for all her life, grabbed my sleeve, looking worried.

"Matthew, she seems really upset," Isabelle whispered.

After all, Isabelle had almost never seen anyone yell in public.

As Margaret's business kept booming, Isabelle was always surrounded by polite smiles and careful words.

People around her always acted decently.

To Isabelle, unless someone was deeply wronged, they wouldn't ever yell at their own mom like that.

I paused for a moment, then said seriously, "Isabelle, no matter how much she suffers, it has nothing to do with us."

As I got older, I finally figured out what went down back then.

Jennifer didn't swap kids just because Isabelle was adorable. She wanted Lydia to take Isabelle's place.

I had quietly gotten DNA tests done for Margaret and Isabelle.

I was absolutely certain that Isabelle, who grew up around us, was the real heiress.

As for Jennifer and how she treated Lydia, that was her business.

I never told my parents about what happened back then. With Isabelle always around us, there was no way a nanny like Jennifer could cause any real trouble.

What she did was only going to backfire on herself.