The Orchestrated Life

The child was clearly born from my womb, yet there was no blood relationship between us at all.

Can you believe it?

I couldn't believe, either!

However, the paternity test report in front of me stabbed into my eyes and heart like a knife, forcing me to believe it!

001

"Honey, look at this, it's so tragic!"

After dinner, I was browsing Instagram when I came across a popular topic, "Switched at Birth for 28 Years." It was about a poor mother who wanted to sacrifice part of her liver to save her son, only to discover that the son she had poured all her love into wasn't her biological child. It was likely a deliberate swap by the biological parents of the adopted child. I couldn't help but vent to my husband, Tristan Willis, who was also scrolling through his phone beside me.

Tristan glanced up from his phone, gave my screen a quick look, and said, "Yeah, I saw that too. Thankfully, when our child, Brock, was born, he didn't go to the nursery. He always stayed with us, and Caleigh was always there to help take care of him. No one else would have the chance to switch with us."

Caleigh Baxter was my best friend, and when I gave birth, she was always by my side, taking care of both of us, never leaving for a moment.

I feel truly blessed in life, with wonderful parents, a great husband, and a fantastic friend. Although I lost my uterus due to severe blood loss during childbirth to save my life, Tristan didn't mind at all. Instead, he felt even more affectionate and compassionate towards me, saying that I suffered for the sake of bearing his child.

There came the shouting voice of my son, Brock, from downstairs.

I stood up and looked out the window to see my best friend, Caleigh pulling Brock back home.

Brock was kicking, hitting, and cursing at Caleigh, but she remained gentle and patient, showing no sign of anger.

This moved me deeply.

After giving birth, my body wasn't in the best shape. I didn't have much energy to look after the child on a regular basis, relying solely on Caleigh for assistance.

Caleigh was extremely patient with my son, and she was more like a mother to him.

Our friendship began in high school. She was my deskmate, coming from a family with disabled parents and many siblings, struggling financially, often wearing outdated and somewhat worn clothes.

Though my family wasn't wealthy, in this city where real estate was extremely valuable, my parents owned five rental properties. And being their only daughter, they went to great lengths to meet my material needs, though they might not always understand how to fulfill my emotional needs.

I had no concept of money and no discrimination between rich and poor. I saw Caleigh studying hard and seriously, and even her old clothes were washed clean. I had a bit of a liking for her, and I often invited her to eat and buy stationery, always in duplicate, one for myself and one for her.

At first, she was always very embarrassed and made various excuses to refuse me. Until I said that my parents collect rent of about 200, 000 dollars every month and placed no limits on my allowance, she started to accept the things I gave her, including clothes, and often ate and stayed at my house. We two were like sisters, and my parents treated her like a daughter, buying gifts for both of us when traveling.

I went downstairs and saw Brock still kicking and punching Caleigh, behaving badly. I couldn't help but pull him away and give him a smack on the bottom.

"Renee, don't beat him. He's still a child," Caleigh said, shielding Brock with concern.

Brock's arrogance subsided a bit, but he still spat at Caleigh before running into the villa.

"Caleigh, Brock is getting more and more unruly, sorry about that." I said apologetically, looking at Caleigh's white dress stained with shoe prints and the spit that hadn't dried.

"It's nothing. Your son is like my son. What's there to apologize for?" Caleigh said nonchalantly.

"Caleigh, you're so good to me. I don't know what I'd do without you," I said, touched.

"We're best friends. If I don't treat you well, then who else would I treat well?"

Caleigh's words moved me even more, so I held her hand and entered the villa with her.

The new part-time maid Cathy saw Caleigh and said doubtfully to me, "You and your sister don't look at all alike, but your son really resembles your sister."

People often said my son, Brock, looked like Caleigh, but I never paid it any mind. After all, I had given birth to him myself.

Besides, I often heard that children resemble those they spent the most time with, just like how couples started to look alike over time.

I looked at Caleigh and Brock and noticed they did share some similarities, especially that beautiful V-shaped chin, which was almost identical.

But Caleigh had never been pregnant, and it couldn't be like the popular topic "Switched at Birth for 28 Years", where she secretly swapped her child with mine, could it?

"Renee, I saw a new season's quilted flap chain shoulder bag at the Chanel store earlier. I think it would suit you," Caleigh said, sitting beside me and showing me a photo of the bag on her phone.

I glanced at the photo and then at the out-of-season bag in Caleigh's hand.

I'm not particularly keen on bags, but Caleigh, working in a trading company, needed to maintain her image.

I also knew that because of the poverty of her original family, she had a certain inferiority complex deep in her heart, fearing others would label her as poor.

She was so good to me and did so much for my child. I liked her and wanted to reciprocate, so I often bought her branded clothes, shoes, bags, and cosmetics, making her look glamorous.

Unlike my plain appearance, Caleigh was tall, fair-skinned, and beautiful. When dressed up, she looked like a wealthy and elegant woman, making people assume she came from a well-off family.

"Yes, it's nice. Let's go check it out later. I need a bag to match my new dress," I said happily.

Caleigh agreed, with unconcealed joy in her eyes.

She knew that if I went shopping, I would definitely buy one for her too.

Money didn't matter to me. My parents, who had a landlord's financial acumen, now collected rent from five buildings. They also prudently purchased a row of prosperous shops during a downturn, generating monthly rental income of at least half a million. As long as we didn't gamble or indulge in drugs, we could live without worrying about food and drink for the rest of our lives.

Caleigh was my best friend and the person I cherished the most. Besides frequently gifting her things, I also bought an apartment in a high-end neighborhood near her company in the name of investment, so that she could have a comfortable place to settle down in this city with high housing prices.

She was grateful and devoted, taking better care of Brock than I did. I cherished our friendship and wanted it to last a lifetime.

After dinner, Caleigh and I went to the Chanel store and bought two bags, a gray one for me and a royal blue one for her, spending twenty-two thousand.

Caleigh left, elated with her new bag. And before I even got home, I received a frantic call from the nanny, saying Brock had a sudden high fever and urging me to return quickly.

I rushed home and, with the nanny, took Brock to the hospital.

The doctor needed to perform a blood test on Brock to determine if it was a bacterial infection or inflammation.

I received the blood test report and, and I didn't understood the data, so I casually glanced at it to ensure I hadn't taken the wrong report. Then I saw my son's blood type on it.

Type A?

Seeing this blood type made my heart skip a beat.

Tristan and I both had type B blood, and even with my limited biology knowledge, I knew two B types couldn't produce an A type child.

I carefully checked the name on the blood test report. It was indeed my son, Brock's name.

I thought of the popular topic "Switched at Birth for 28 Years" and Cathy's comment about my son not resembling me. My heart felt like it was struck by lightning, and my mind was in turmoil.

Returning from the hospital, I looked at Brock, sleeping soundly on the bed, and couldn't see any resemblance to me.

However, he looked a lot like Tristan, their eyes, their noses, their mouths, all identical.

Tristan came home, went straight to Brock, and touched his forehead, relieved to find the fever had subsided. He let out a small sigh of relief.

"Honey, it's strange. Both of us have type B blood, so why does the blood test report say Brock has type A blood?"

I handed the blood test report to Tristan, my eyes fixed on his face.

"The blood type reports are often unreliable and prone to errors. I was there with Caleigh in the delivery room when Brock was born. And the birthmark on his neck, you also saw it before you went into a coma due to heavy bleeding. No one could have switched him," Tristan said calmly, without even glancing at the report.

Indeed, after I gave birth to Brock, the nurse cut the umbilical cord and showed him to me. I immediately noticed the coin-sized black birthmark on his neck. It seemed impossible for another baby to have the same birthmark in the exact same spot.

Yet, for some reason, this time I couldn't convince myself, and I always felt something was off.

When Caleigh was informed that Brock had a fever, she rushed over after work to care for him, full of worry and concern.

Watching Caleigh and Tristan, and then looking at Brock, I couldn't help but feel he resembled a child of Caleigh and Tristan.

Whenever Caleigh, Tristan and I took Brock out, people often assumed the three of them were the family of three.

Once doubt creeps in, it becomes a black hole, consuming trust relentlessly.

I secretly collected hair samples from Tristan, Caleigh, and Brock, along with my own, and took them to a paternity testing center.

The results would take 3-5 business days, and during this wait, I was in agony, like a cat on a hot tin roof.

On one hand, I wanted to know the results as soon as possible.

On the other hand, I was afraid of what the result will be. I feared what they might reveal.

Tristan and Caleigh didn't notice my unease, but I began to notice something unusual about them.

I found that Tristan's gaze towards Caleigh sometimes involuntarily revealed a trace of tenderness.

Their interactions were often in sync.

I even followed Tristan once and saw him enter the residential area where Caleigh lived and didn't come out for about two hours.

After coming out, he looked very energetic and seemed to be in high spirits.

I had a hysterectomy, which in some ways made me feel incomplete as a woman. I had no sex drive, and Tristan and I were intimate maybe once a month.

Tristan claimed he was too tired from work and had no desire for sex, which we both agreed on.

I never suspected Tristan would cheat on me because he had always treated me well.

I treated him well too, arranging everything neatly for his family back in the village. I gave them money to build large houses in the village, and often helped them, ensuring they lived a decent life.

When the paternity test results arrived, I clutched the envelope tightly, unable to muster the courage to open it for a long time.

"Whore, you cheated me by having an affair, I will make you pay!" a man ahead of me muttered angrily into his phone, clutching a report.

My heart felt like it was being pounded by a machine. I bit my lip, trembling as I untied the string on the envelope and pulled out the three paternity test reports.

After reading them, I felt as if I was engulfed in darkness. My blood ran cold, and I struggled to breathe, as if a giant hand was squeezing my throat. My heart nearly stopped.

I bit my wrist hard, trying to clear my mind and organize my thoughts.

I was born with blocked fallopian tubes and couldn't conceive naturally. The doctor suggested artificial insemination and IVF.

Being traditional, I wanted a child to carry on my lineage and inherit my estate, so I agreed to the procedure.

Fortunately, the IVF process went smoothly, and I soon became pregnant.

The doctor assured me my eggs were fine, so why was the child not biologically related to me?

The most crucial question was, why could I give birth to Caleigh and Tristan's child?

What on earth did they do to me?

I remained unexpectedly calm and conducted a deeper investigation.

Money talks, and I spent roughly two hundred thousand, only to uncover a truth that was even more heart-wrenching.

Caleigh bribed the nurse involved in the IVF process to switch the embryos, unknowingly making me their surrogate mother by implanting hers and Tristan's into my womb. During delivery, she bribed the obstetrician to create a dangerous condition that causes heavy bleeding in my uterus, leading to my hysterectomy, leaving me infertile.

I couldn't go home, fearing I might lose control and kill Tristan and Caleigh, those ungrateful backstabbers. So, I returned to my parents' house.

My parents were out playing cards. I saw a bottle of multivitamins on the table. Feeling restless, I picked it up and shook it, listening to the clinking of the pills inside to calm myself down.

Just then, my mom came back, saw me shaking the bottle, and looked at me with a loving expression, saying, "Why are you still like a child, shaking things in bottles? These are vitamins Caleigh bought for us. Don't shake them to powder. We don't like taking them and thought you might want them."

My hand froze, and I slammed the bottle onto the table. The cap popped off and rolled across the floor.

"Can't you be a bit more refined, like Caleigh?" my mom said as she bent down to pick up the bottle cap from the floor, handing it to me with a hint of reproach.

I didn't want her to notice my emotions, so I took the cap. Just as I was about to put it back on, I noticed something odd about the seal on the bottle.

I leaned in to sniff it and caught a faint scent of fresh glue.

My heart skipped a beat as I sensed something was amiss. I quickly grabbed the bottle of multivitamins and hurried out.

I paid a lab technician to analyze the contents of the multivitamins, and the results shattered my trust in the world.

The vitamins contained trace amounts of a toxic element that could damage the nervous system, causing paralysis and muscle atrophy.

I knew my parents wouldn't consume these vitamins; they would eventually give these vitamins to me, the one with the weaker constitution.

Caleigh knew this too.

I checked the legal provisions and found that one of them stipulates that If a crime is attempted but not completed due to reasons beyond the perpetrator's control, it is considered an attempted crime. For attempted crimes, the punishment can be lighter or reduced compared to completed crimes.

The most crucial point was that there was no evidence to prove Caleigh had tampered with the vitamins. I didn't want to waste time seeking justice through legal means, nor did I want her to receive a lighter sentence.

She wanted me in hell, so I had to make her life a living hell every day.

002

There was a new type of online fraud that has become popular in recent years. Scammers engage in online chats, feign romance, and then lure you into investing before disappearing with your money. It was like fattening a pig before slaughtering it, hence the name "Pig Butchering Scam". It was a scam where victims were tricked into investing money, similar to fattening a pig before slaughter.

I met a handsome guy, called Vernon Rowe, online who wanted to make me his victim. However, I wasn't short of money and wasn't greedy, so I quickly saw through his scheme.

He didn't block or delete me; instead, he occasionally sent holiday greetings. Sometimes, when I was in a bad mood, I'd chat with him and throw in a few insults. We remained in each other's Whatsapp contacts for over a year, maintaining a lukewarm relationship.

I knew he was playing the long game, hoping I'd eventually become his target. I was curious to see how patient he could be.

I contacted him again on Whatsapp. "Vernon, are you there?"

"At your service, lady! What can I do for you?" he replied quickly.

"Are you good-looking? How old are you?"

"Finally, you are curious about me?"

"No, I want to discuss a deal with you. If it works out, you could earn a million!"

"Are you planning to turn the tables on me, the scammer?" Vernon sent a trembling emoji.

"Haha, no. I want to use your skills to scam someone else. If it works, I'll give you a million. Let's video chat. If I find you presentable, I'll give you a ten thousand deposit."

"Are you a law-abiding citizen and now you are trying to lure me into a police trap?"

"I'm not after you. Don't worry, I'm not trying to lure you into a police trap. I just want revenge."

I then told Vernon what Caleigh had done to me. He was shocked. "Wow, she's the ultimate scammer, not just after money but also your life!"

It felt like a dagger to the heart again.

Yes, I was the pig Caleigh had been fattening. She had been sucking my blood like a leech, and now she was ready to slaughter me and take everything I had.

"I'll take the job. Let me show you what I look like."

Vernon opened a video chat.

He didn't disappoint me. He was around thirty years old, with sharp eyebrows and bright eyes, handsome and charming, with a good aura.

I immediately transferred ten thousand to him and discussed how he could approach Caleigh.

The next day, Vernon flew over to meet me.

He was about 180CM tall, with a tall and upright figure, but his clothing was a bit ordinary, and the total cost of his entire outfit was less than one thousand.

"Seeing me like this, are you willing to become my pig?" Vernon teased with his charming eyes.

"Don't expect a woman with no curves to exude hormones," I replied bitterly and coldly. "You just need to make Caleigh your pig."

"I won't let you down!" Vernon said confidently.

I shook my head disapprovingly, knowing Caleigh was driven by material desires. Vernon needed to be packaged as a wealthy heir to attract her.

I took Vernon to a high-end salon first, where a stylist gave him a trendy haircut that was both stylish and neat.

The result was as I expected, instantly boosting his attractiveness.

Then, I took him to a high-end clothing store, where he discarded his cheap clothes and shoes. I got him several outfits, from clothes to bags, shoes, and belts, costing nearly half a million.

Next, we went to the Patek Philippe store next door and bought a watch worth 630, 000 for him to wear.

Indeed, clothes make the man.

With my makeover, Vernon instantly looked like a young, promising, and elite figure in the financial world.

To complete his image as a financial elite, I also arranged for him to stay in a five-star presidential suite costing 9, 999 a night, setting my plan in motion.

Sure enough, Caleigh quickly took the bait, frequently meeting Vernon and reducing her visits to my home.