Chapter 1: A Risky Gamble

I never expected my life to spiral into chaos because of my sister, Deanne. She was always the favorite—the perfect one. But when she stole my child and replaced him with hers, I realized just how far her betrayal could go. Prinston Saludés, the man I once loved, became the center of a storm I didn’t see coming—a storm tied to syndicates, stolen legacies, and dangerous secrets about his mafia family. Pretending to be someone else, I stepped into the lion’s den to protect my son and uncover the truth. But with every step, I risked losing everything—myself included. Love, family, and survival all came at a price, one I wasn’t sure I could afford.

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Working as a part-timer in a five-star hotel wasn’t exactly how I imagined my life would turn out, but I didn’t have much of a choice. It was my only way to fund my studies and keep my dreams alive. My life at home was unbearable.

Deanne, my older sister, was the golden child—the perfect daughter in my parents’ eyes. Everyone adored her, and she knew it. She’d flaunt her privilege, throw it in my face, and use it as a weapon against me. It wasn’t just her words that hurt, though those alone could cut like knives.

But behind that facade, not everyone knew that he stole my first love, Prinston Saludés. I remember back then, I caught them both inside the lavatory, kissing each other as if they never saw me. And that day, Prinston grabbed my hand, dragging me on the cafeteria to embarrass me in front of the students.

The last words he said to me pierced to my heart event up to this day, it still hurts me. “We're done, Jermaine. I don't need you. You are just a trash. Your sister and I are now a couple." he said.

And ever since, my world has turned upside down, making my sister more evil to me. I was so devastated.

“Pathetic loser,” she’d hiss whenever I walked past her. “You’re just a parasite leeching off this family. You’re nothing but a waste of space."

It didn’t stop there. Deanne didn’t think twice about slapping me across the face or yanking my hair when she was angry. Once, she even pushed me down the stairs, claiming it was an accident. I knew better, but when I tried to tell our parents, they didn’t even bother listening.

“Deanne wouldn’t do such a thing,” my mother snapped, glaring at me like I was the problem. “Stop making up stories, Jermaine.”

“Why can’t you be more like your sister?” my father added. “She’s successful. She’s everything we could’ve wanted in a daughter.”

Their words crushed me every time. They never cared about the bruises on my arms or the tears in my eyes. To them, I was invisible. A mistake. TRASH.

Deanne, of course, basked in their approval, smirking at me from across the room as they praised her for whatever trivial thing she did that day. She knew they’d always side with her. It gave her free rein to treat me however she wanted, knowing there’d be no consequences.

Eventually, I stopped fighting back. What was the point? No one cared. I lived in the shadows of Deanne’s perfection, her words and actions pushing me deeper into a pit of depression.

After a few years. One evening, while working my shift at the hotel, I saw Prinston Saludés again in person. My heart stopped as he strode through the corridor, his presence commanding attention. He was even more striking in real life—sharp features, tailored suit, an air of confidence that made everyone around him seem insignificant.

He was the only thing that once brought me even a shred of happiness. I’d read about him in magazines and see him on TV—he was successful, adorable, and seemingly untouchable now. He was everything I wasn’t, and I’d spent years harboring a crush on him as if he didn't dump me.

But then I saw her.

Deanne was with him, laughing at something he said as they entered Room 203. My stomach twisted with jealousy and anger. It wasn’t enough that she had everything handed to her on a silver platter—can't believe that she still had him.

I couldn’t let this go.

Hours later, I volunteered to clean Room 203. My hands shook as I knocked on the door, but no one answered. Taking a deep breath, I pushed it open. The room was empty.

The sight that greeted me made my blood boil. The bed was a mess—pillows and sheets thrown everywhere. It didn’t take a genius to figure out what had happened here.

Fueled by a mix of rage and desperation, I searched the room for evidence, something I could use to prove that Deanne wasn’t as perfect as everyone thought she was. Our parents think that she is conservative. Maybe, just maybe, if I could expose her, my parents would finally see the truth.

That’s when I found it.

A used protection, carelessly left under the bed.

Disgust rolled through me, but I couldn’t look away. The thought hit me suddenly—an insane, reckless idea. What if I used this to turn the tables? What if I could finally escape Deanne’s shadow and take something what she stole from me?

Before I could second-guess myself, I grabbed the protection. My hands trembled as I stared at it, my heart racing.

It wasn’t just about revenge anymore. This was my chance to rewrite my story, to finally have something that was mine.

The next morning, I bought a pregnancy test. My hands shook as I waited for the results, the seconds feeling like hours. When the lines appeared, confirming what I already suspected, a strange mix of fear and exhilaration washed over me.

Positive.

I WAS PREGNANT.

With renewed determination, I went to Prinston’s office. My heart pounded as I stormed inside, ignoring the stares of his employees. This was it. My chance to claim a place in his world again, a life away from Deanne’s abuse and my parents’ neglect.

But I didn’t even get to see him.

His security team intercepted me before I could reach his office, dragging me out of the building as I shouted for him to take responsibility. My words fell on deaf ears, and by the time I was back on the street, I was in tears.

That night, I wandered aimlessly, too ashamed to go home. The city lights blurred through my tears as I sat on the curb, clutching my stomach. What had I done?

A taxi pulled up in front of me, and without thinking, I got in. I just needed to get away.

The driver didn’t say a word, which suited me fine. But a few minutes into the ride, I noticed a strange smell coming from the air conditioning.

“W-What’s that?” I asked, but he didn’t respond.

My head started to spin, the world around me tilting. Panic gripped me as I tried to open the door, but my limbs felt heavy.

The last thing I remembered was the driver’s cold, expressionless face before everything went black.

Chapter 2: Twisted Revelations

When I opened my eyes, my head felt heavy, and my body was sluggish. I found myself in wasn’t familiar room. It was a spacious, modern living room, with sleek furniture and tall windows that overlooked a sprawling garden.

I shifted uncomfortably, the realization dawning on me that I wasn’t alone. Sitting directly across from me on a plush couch was Prinston Saludés. His sharp, piercing eyes locked onto mine, his expression cold and unreadable.

“You’re awake,” he said, his voice calm but tinged with menace.

I swallowed hard, trying to figure out what to say. “W-Where am I?”

“My home,” he replied flatly. “Don't waste my time. Now tell me, how exactly I impregnated you when we ended our relationship these past few years, huh?"

The question felt like a slap. I froze, my mind scrambling for an answer. My plan hadn’t gone this far—I didn’t think I’d ever have to justify it. Panic bubbled in my chest. I couldn’t admit the truth, not to his face.

“I... I’m telling the truth,” I stammered. “We were together the other night. Don’t you remember?”

His brow furrowed, disbelief written all over his face. “I don’t think so.”

My heart pounded as he stood, towering over me. “You’re lying," he said coldly. “And I don’t have time for liars.”

He turned to leave, but before he could, another voice cut through the room.

“Sir, wait!”

I looked up to see a man stepping into the living room. It was Jordan. Jordan’s face was pale as he handed Prinston a tablet. “You need to see this.”

I saw him on the newspapers. He was a Muay Thai Champion International. In his aura, he was Prinston's assistant.

Prinston grabbed the device, his jaw tightening as he read whatever was on the screen. His face darkened, and he let out a frustrated sigh.

“It’s all over the news,” Jordan explained nervously. “That woman caused a scene at your office earlier, claiming she’s carrying your child. People are furious. If you deny this, it’ll ruin your reputation. Investors are already asking questions.”

Prinston cursed under his breath, tossing the tablet onto the couch. His eyes locked onto me again, this time with a mix of anger and resignation.

“You’ve caused me enough problems already,” he said, his tone icy. “But fine. If it’ll keep this from blowing up any further, you can stay here until the baby is born. After that, we’ll settle this properly.”

I exhaled shakily, relief flooding my chest despite his coldness.

The following months passed in a blur. Living in Prinston’s mansion was surreal, but the tension between us never eased. He barely spoke to me unless it was necessary, and when he did, his words were clipped and distant.

Jordan, on the other hand, tried to make me feel comfortable. He’d check in on me, make sure I had everything I needed, and even offer a kind word when the silence in the house became suffocating.

But despite the luxury, I couldn’t shake the anxiety that gnawed at me daily. I knew I was walking on thin ice, and every moment around Prinston was a reminder of the lie I’d told—a lie that could come crashing down at any moment.

Why am I so desperate?

The day finally came when I went into labor. The pain was unbearable, and the panic in my chest only grew as I was rushed to the hospital.

Everything felt off from the moment I arrived. The room they placed me in was eerily quiet, and I noticed there were no nurses around. Just one doctor, standing with their back to me.

I tried to steady my breathing as the doctor approached. Something about their movements seemed too familiar, and when they finally turned to face me, my blood ran cold.

It was Deanne.

She was wearing a white coat and a surgical mask, but her eyes gave her away. I stared at her in disbelief as she pulled the mask down, revealing a sinister smirk.

“What... what are you doing here?” I managed to choke out.

Deanne chuckled softly, her tone dripping with malice. “Oh, Jermaine, did you really think you could get away with this?”

I tried to sit up, but she shoved me back onto the bed, her grip surprisingly strong.

“You’ve always been such a pathetic little liar,” she sneered. “But this? Pretending to carry Prinston’s child? You’ve crossed the line. You are just an obstacle for our goal."

“D-Deanne, please,” I begged, tears streaming down my face. “I’m sorry! Just—just let me have the baby, and I’ll disappear. I won’t bother you... and Prinston ever again.”

She leaned in close, her face inches from mine. “Oh, your baby will disappear."

Before I could react, she clamped a hand over my mouth, muffling my screams. I struggled, but my body was weak from the labor pains.

I felt the sharp sting of a needle in my arm, and my vision began to blur. Deanne’s cruel voice was the last thing I heard before darkness consumed me.

“Say goodbye to your baby, you pathetic.”

Chapter 3: A Mother's Nightmare

The coldness of the room felt like it seeped into my bones as I opened my eyes. The sharp scent of antiseptic lingered in the air, and my body ached with exhaustion. Beside me sat Jordan, his expression filled with concern.

“You’re awake,” he said softly. “You had a rough night.”

I didn’t respond immediately. My mind raced back to what had happened—the sight of Deanne’s sinister smile, the needle in my arm, her chilling words. My heart pounded as I remembered the panic, the helplessness.

Well, it might just be a nightmare? I hope so.

But then the door opened, and a nurse entered, cradling a small bundle. My breath caught as she placed the baby beside me.

“Your son,” she said with a gentle smile.

I stared at the tiny face, tears welling in my eyes. He was so small, so fragile. Relief washed over me. He was alive. My baby was alive.

Jordan leaned closer, his voice gentle. “You’ve been staring at him for a while. What’s wrong?”

I quickly wiped my tears, forcing a shaky smile. “Nothing. I’m just... tired.”

Jordan didn’t look convinced, but he didn’t push further. I held my baby close, silently vowing to protect him, no matter what.

Years passed, and my son, Ysmael, grew into a lively and curious toddler. He was the light of my life, the only thing that kept me grounded in a world that still felt unstable.

But Prinston? He remained distant.

He was polite when necessary, but his coldness toward me was undeniable. Worse, he wasn’t particularly warm toward Ysmael either. He rarely played with him or even smiled in his direction. Sometimes, I’d catch him watching Ysmael with a calculating expression, as though he was trying to decide if the boy was truly his.

Jordan was the one who stepped up, filling the gaps Prinston left behind. He became Ysmael’s constant companion, teaching him how to build toy castles, reading him bedtime stories, and making him laugh when I couldn’t. For that, I was endlessly grateful.

When Ysmael’s sixth birthday arrived, I wanted it to be special. Despite everything, I was determined to give him a day filled with happiness. We held a small party in the mansion’s garden, complete with balloons, cake, and a magician who made Ysmael laugh until his cheeks turned red.

For a brief moment, it felt like everything was perfect.

But the happiness was short-lived.

That night, as I was cleaning up after the party, I realized something was wrong. Ysmael wasn’t in his room. I searched the entire mansion, panic building with every step.

Then came the call.

My phone buzzed in my hand, the unknown number sending a chill down my spine. I hesitated before answering, my hands trembling.

“H-Hello?” I said, my voice barely above a whisper.

There was silence for a moment, then a voice—low, rough, and filled with menace. “Looking for your son?”

My heart stopped. “W-Who is this? Where’s Ysmael?”

A sinister chuckle echoed through the line. “He’s with us. And let me tell you, he’s not having a good time.”

In the background, I heard Ysmael’s voice—faint, trembling, and full of fear. “Mommy, it hurts! Please, help me!”

Tears streamed down my face as I gripped the phone tighter. “Don’t hurt him! Please, I’ll do anything! Just tell me what you want! H-How much?"

The man’s voice turned colder. “Such a hypocrite. We don’t want anything from you. This is about Prinston Saludés. He’s made enemies, and now your son will pay the price.”

“No!” I screamed. “Please, I’ll talk to him. Just don’t hurt my baby!”

But the man ignored me, his voice laced with cruelty. “We will torture him to death. Can’t wait to behead him.”

The call ended abruptly, leaving me frozen in place, the phone slipping from my hand.

Chapter 4: Shattered Truths

Sleepless nights consumed me. I couldn’t stop crying, couldn’t stop thinking about Ysmael. Days turned into a blur, each passing moment a reminder that we still hadn’t found him. Prinston threw everything into the search, but even with all his resources, Ysmael remained missing.

Then, one morning, a package arrived. A plain box, sitting ominously in front of the door.

I rushed downstairs, my heart pounding. Something about it felt wrong, yet I couldn't stop myself from opening it. With trembling hands, I lifted the lid—and froze.

It was Ysmael. My baby boy. Lifeless.

“No!” I screamed, my cries echoing through the house. My knees buckled as I cradled his small, cold body.

Prinston came running. “What happened?” His voice was frantic, but as he looked inside the box, his expression changed. Horror. Rage. Despair.

He let out a guttural cry, his fists slamming against the walls. It was the first time I’d ever seen him so broken. He dropped to his knees beside me, sobbing like a child.

For a brief moment, I saw a part of him I had never seen before—a man who truly loved Ysmael. But that moment didn’t last.

His grief quickly turned to anger.

“This is your fault!” he roared, his voice like thunder.

“P-Prinston, no,” I pleaded, tears streaming down my face.

But he didn’t listen. “You were careless! You only ever think about yourself! You’re selfish, Jermaine! You don’t care about anyone but my wealth! You are a piece of gold digger."

His words cut through me, but what he said next shattered me completely.

“You know why I loved your sister more than you? Because she wasn’t like this. You’re just a piece of trash.”

Before I could respond, he lashed out. His hands weren’t gentle—they weren’t the hands of the man I once thought loved me. Pain shot through my body as I crumpled to the floor, but the physical pain was nothing compared to the words that lingered in the air.

Prinston stormed out, leaving me broken in every sense of the word.

The day of Ysmael’s burial was the hardest of my life. I stood by his grave, feeling like the worst mother in the world. Regret clawed at my insides—regret for everything I had done, for every choice that led to this moment.

But the nightmare didn’t end there. After the funeral, Prinston left me behind. He didn’t just leave emotionally; he left physically, financially, entirely. I was nothing to him now.

Homeless and penniless, I wandered the streets, sleeping wherever I could. It wasn’t until Jordan found me that I had a roof over my head again. He took me to his small apartment, offering me safety when I had nothing.

For a while, I thought I could piece my life back together. But one day, Jordan confronted me.

“I need to know the truth, Jermaine,” he said, his voice firm.

“What truth?” I asked, avoiding his eyes.

Jordan placed a folder on the table. “Before Ysmael’s last birthday, I had him tested. A DNA test.”

I froze.

He continued, “The results showed that Prinston isn’t Ysmael’s father.”

My world tilted. “N-No. That’s impossible,” I whispered.

Jordan slid the papers toward me. “It’s true. Look for yourself.”

I stared at the results, my heart racing. No matter how much I denied it, the truth was staring me in the face.

“Prinston still doesn’t know,” Jordan said, his tone sharp. “But he will. And when he finds out, your life is in danger. Good thing, I changed the result and gave it to him. In that way, I'll be able to protect you... for now."

“I—I can explain,” I stammered.

“You’d better,” he snapped. “Why did you make Prinston believe Ysmael was his son? What are you hiding?”

I couldn’t tell him. Not the real reason. “I just thought it was better this way,” I lied.

Jordan shook his head, disappointment etched across his face. “I’m giving you one chance to escape. Take this. Don't cha worry about me."

He handed me a plane ticket. “Leave now, Jermaine, while you still can.”

The day of my flight, I sat on a bench at the airport, clutching my ticket. I tried to calm my nerves by scrolling through my phone. But then, a post caught my eye.

It was Deanne with Prinston with a little kid that looks exactly like Prinston.

She was smiling in the photo, holding a young boy. The caption read: “The reunited fam.”

My blood ran cold.

The post date was just a few days ago.

PRINSTON IMPREGNATED DEANNA THAT NIGHT? H-HOW?

I stood abruptly, my heart racing. My hands trembled as I read the caption again and again. This couldn’t be real.

I stumbled into the bathroom, locking myself inside. My breaths were shallow as I tried to process what I had just seen.

I moved my head lightly against the cold tile wall, overwhelmed by the disappointment and rage coursing through me.

SHIT!

Suddenly, a loud sound shook the building, followed by screams. I froze, my heart pounding.

I was about to leave the bathroom when I heard a voice outside.

“Mom, the hitman had shot Jermaine successfully, ” Deanne said, her tone smug. “Now that Jermaine is gone, nothing can stop us from taking everything Prinston owns. Tell our boss it’s mission accomplished. I want my bonus for this.”

A BOSS?! Dang!