My Wife Replaced Our Baby with a Stranger

On the flight back from the business trip, I saw the video. A newborn, abandoned on the side of the road, frostbite already showing, screaming a guttural, terrifying cry. As a new father, I paused, watching with a surge of pity. What stopped my breath was the realization: he was a mirror image of my son. But my wife and Noah were in a penthouse suite at The Haven, the city’s most exclusive postpartum recovery center, with a round-the-clock team of nurses and specialists. Knowing Bianca, my wife, wouldn’t be checking her phone during her recovery, I immediately called Ms. Klein, the center’s manager. She chuckled, professional and reassuring. “Mr. Lockwood, rest assured, your wife and child are doing beautifully. They just drifted off to sleep.” The next second, she texted me a photo of a sleeping infant. I stared at that stranger’s face. The blood in my veins turned to ice. I had been gone four days. How had my son been replaced?

01 I burst out of the train station and drove straight to the spot where the baby had been abandoned—an obscure section of Oak Avenue. “Officer! That’s my child!” I shoved my way through the small crowd. A police officer blocked me. “Sir, this baby was just found. We’re taking him to Child Services. You say he’s yours? Do you have proof?” I immediately pulled out my phone, displaying Noah’s birth certificate and a few snaps taken right after he was born. After verifying the information, the officer’s tone held a hint of reprimand. “Mr. Lockwood, you need to be more careful with your baby… It’s freezing out here. Half an hour exposed like this is dangerous.” I nodded, gripping the officer’s hand in thanks. I bundled Noah tightly in my jacket and raced toward The Haven. I was going to find out what the hell was going on. When I threw open the door to my reserved suite, Mrs. Davies, our long-time nanny, was in the living room organizing baby supplies. She’d worked for my family for twenty-three years, practically raising me. I’d entrusted Bianca and Noah to her care before I left. Hearing the door, she looked up. Her eyes swept over the bundle in my arms, and her brow furrowed. There was a flicker of something dark in her gaze—a deep revulsion. “Why was Noah left on Oak Avenue? I was so lucky to—” I began, my voice choked with urgency. Mrs. Davies cut me off, her voice hard and sharp. “Callum, Noah is perfectly fine, right here at the center. What is this… this stray you’ve brought back with you?” “A stray?” I was stunned. “Mrs. Davies, what are you saying? This is Noah!” She stepped forward, reaching out to snatch the baby from my arms without a word. “You’re confused from your trip! Throw that feral little thing back where you found it!” Her unexpected force made me nearly drop him. I was completely bewildered. “Mrs. Davies, look closely. This is him.” She recoiled instantly, as if I were holding something dirty. Just then, the bedroom door opened. My wife, Bianca, walked out. For a brief moment, the tension in my chest eased. A mother would know her own child. Instead, Bianca pointed a shaking finger at the baby in my arms and shrieked. “Callum Lockwood! Have you been cheating on me? Did you bring your little bastard back here?” I was utterly lost. Bianca continued, her voice laced with venom. “Get that wild child out of here, Callum! Or I’m divorcing you!” I couldn’t believe my ears. Noah, sensing the fear and malice, wailed, burying his tiny fists in my shirt. Bianca and Mrs. Davies. They were the two closest women in my life. Why were they now conspiring to deny my child? 02 Cradling Noah, I kicked open the door to Ms. Klein’s office. “Why was my son, Noah, abandoned on the street? Who is the child in the photo you sent me?” I demanded, my rage shaking the walls. Ms. Klein quickly deployed her professional smile. “Mr. Lockwood, I believe you are mistaken. Allow me to show you the security footage.” She clicked on the monitor. The video clearly showed the ‘fake Noah’ in the crib, and he never once left the room from the moment he was born until now. “As you can see, your son has been well cared for here. As for the baby in your arms… I’m afraid only you know where he came from.” I grabbed the mouse, incredulous, and dragged the timeline. The footage was real-time, no visible edits. Just then, the door was thrown open again. Bianca’s brother, Ronnie Sutton, charged in with a few of her relatives. Ronnie clapped me on the shoulder, his voice patronizing. “Look, little brother. What in God’s name are you doing? Bianca just had a baby. Can’t you give her a break?” “We’re all men here, I understand… but wait until she’s out of recovery to sort out your little issues.” “That’s right,” another relative chimed in. “How could you bring a bastard child back to the house when your wife suffered so much to carry your baby?” “Trying to pass off a tramp’s kid as your heir? You’re disrespecting your wife and family!” The Sutton relatives surrounded me, their words buzzing with manufactured concern. I was shaking with fury. I pointed to the small, faint red birthmark behind Noah’s left ear. “Look closely! My son has a birthmark here. Does that baby have it?” Bianca suddenly ran in, bursting into theatrical sobs. “Ronnie, I’m so hurt! I gave him a son, and he’s trying to bring in some gutter trash to replace him!” Ms. Klein smoothly intervened. “Mr. Lockwood, look how upset you’ve made your wife. Why don’t I have a nurse feed the child you’re holding? Then you can calm down and we can discuss this.” Before I could object, she signaled a nurse, who immediately presented a bottle. Noah was clearly starving; he reached for it, arms flailing excitedly. I couldn’t stop the nurse before she put the nipple to his lips. Less than two minutes later, Noah suddenly began to vomit violently. His face turned deep purple; he was on the verge of choking. I frantically patted his back, but as I did, I saw the nurse try to slip away, tucking the empty bottle behind her back. I lunged, grabbing the bottle. “What formula is this? Why is it so thin and pale?” The nurse’s eyes darted away. “It’s… it’s our house-made blend, Mr. Lockwood.” I glared at Ms. Klein. “I ordered the top-tier imported European formula! Why is my son drinking this?” Ms. Klein’s expression was casually contemptuous. “Your son, Noah, is drinking the best. As for the one you’re holding… he should be grateful for the scraps.” I was about to lash out when Ms. Klein suddenly reached over and brutally pinched the frail infant in my arms. “An abandoned baby, begging and still complaining about the slop,” she spat out. Noah, already weak, let out a piercing scream. A surge of blind rage shot through me, and I raised my fist to strike her. Ronnie Sutton suddenly lunged, grabbing my collar and pulling me back. “Don’t you dare, Lockwood! Don’t you try to hurt my sister or my family!” he snarled, his eyes narrowed. “Cross us, and you’ll regret it.” At that moment, Noah started convulsing and vomiting again, his breathing shallow and rattling. I held him tight, my eyes locking onto the circle of Sutton relatives. “If anything happens to my son today, I swear I will make you all pay in blood!” I shoved Ronnie aside and ran, clutching Noah, toward the exit. 03 I blew through two red lights and burst into the Emergency Room, Noah in my arms. “Doctor! Please, save my baby!” Nurses and doctors immediately swarmed us, beginning emergency procedures. The red light above the trauma room door clicked on. I took a deep, ragged breath, forcing myself to be coherent. First, save Noah. Second, find the absolute, irrefutable proof that Bianca and her family were lying. The most powerful evidence was a DNA test. I carefully plucked a few strands of hair Noah had shed onto my sweater. I turned, intending to go to the hospital’s forensic center. But just as I reached the stairwell, a familiar figure blocked my path. “Callum, where are you going?” Mrs. Davies stood there, her face a mask of chilling hostility. Two enormous security guards from The Haven flanked her. Her voice was ice-cold. “Bianca has suffered a severe postpartum hemorrhage. Her condition is critical. You must come back with me now!” I instantly recognized the cheap, frantic deception. I backed away, clutching the hair samples. Mrs. Davies’s eyes narrowed, fixed on my hand. “What are you holding? Are you trying to pull another stunt? You’re coming home!” “Mrs. Davies, you watched me grow up!” I roared, my voice raw. “How can you side with them and lie to me?” Her eyes flickered with a strange emotion for a fraction of a second, then hardened. “Since you refuse, you leave me no choice.” She nodded to the guards. They stepped forward and clamped down on my arms, one on each side. Their grip was like steel; I couldn’t move. I was forcibly dragged back to The Haven. The moment they pushed me back into the suite, I saw Bianca lying in bed, tears streaming down her face. Ms. Klein and several nurses stood over her, looking deeply concerned. Ms. Klein scolded me, her tone one of injured reproach. “Mr. Lockwood, finally. Your behavior at the hospital was appalling! Ms. Sutton just gave birth, she’s fragile. You caused her so much stress it triggered a major hemorrhage. She almost lost her uterus…” I looked at Bianca, a cold cynicism in my eyes. “If it were truly that serious, you wouldn’t be lying in a postpartum recovery center. This place has no trauma services.” I walked to the crib, staring at the baby with the unfamiliar face. “This is not my child.” I pulled out my phone, intending to pull up the video and photos of Noah’s birth to compare, only to find they were all gone. But I had just shown them to the police a few hours ago! A cold dread washed over me. They hadn’t just switched the babies; they had erased my evidence. My phone rang, slicing through my panic. It was the hospital. “Doctor, how is my son?” I asked, desperate. The doctor’s voice was grave. “Mr. Lockwood, your baby has severe infection and respiratory failure. He needs an immediate blood transfusion.” “The critical issue is his blood type: Rh-Negative. Our emergency stock is insufficient. Are you or your wife this blood type? You need to come and donate immediately.” Rh-Negative! I was not, but Bianca was. I spun around, pleading with her, my voice cracking. “Noah needs a transfusion now! You are Rh-Negative—you have to go to the hospital and save him!” Bianca looked at me with a chilling, mocking smile. “That stray has nothing to do with me. Why should I save him?” I gripped her hand, asking the question that had been tearing me apart. “He is the flesh and blood you carried for ten months! You suffered so much during your pregnancy. How can you be so merciless now?” She violently shook off my hand and let out a cold, sharp laugh. “My son is in the crib, safe and sound. The one in the hospital is a bastard! I won’t save him. Forget it.” 04 Ms. Klein immediately pulled out her phone and started a live stream, aiming the camera directly at me. The headline flashed across the screen for all to see: #CEOForcesWifeToSaveAStray. Bianca leaned weakly against the pillows, her eyes red, crying to the camera. “Callum, I just climbed back from the brink of death from hemorrhage. I almost lost my fertility. Why are you forcing me to save a child who has nothing to do with me?” Sobbing, she lifted her gown slightly, exposing the fading scar from her C-section. The comment section exploded. Waves of vicious hatred washed over the screen: “Is this man cold-blooded? Forcing his wife to donate blood right after giving birth!” “He’s clearly pushing his mistress’s kid onto his family!” “The Lockwood family has no decency! Does a new mother’s life mean nothing?” My secretary called immediately. “Mr. Lockwood! The company website has been hacked—it’s flooded with banners calling you ‘Callum Lockwood the Scumbag’! Three of our key partners just sent termination letters, and the stock is down 30%!” Before I could reply, the doctor texted a code-red warning. “Mr. Lockwood! O2 saturation is down to 35, breathing is failing. You must donate immediately! He won’t make it without blood!” I turned back to Bianca, practically groveling. “Bianca, Noah is dying! He’s your son, too! I’m begging you, please, go save him!” Bianca’s face split into a sudden, chilling grin. “Begging me? Fine.” She pointed a finger at Ms. Klein’s camera. “You have to admit, right here, in front of everyone, that the baby is a bastard. That he has no connection to me or the Lockwood family.” She paused, her eyes venomous. “Then, you sign a statement saying you will hand him over to Child Services, and you’ll never recognize him as your own. You can never even say his name again.” “Say it and sign it, and I’ll go save him now.” “You are insane!” I shook with fury. “He is your son!” Seeing my hesitation, Ronnie suddenly rushed in, his fist slamming into my face. “What are you waiting for, you fool? Say it! Do it now, or I’ll cripple you!” The Sutton relatives swarmed me, pushing me toward the camera. Bianca handed me a piece of paper and a pen. “I wrote the statement for you. Just sign it.” I stared at the paper. It read: “I admit to having no relationship with the abandoned child and willingly surrender him to the care of Child Services.” Someone grabbed the pen and shoved it into my trembling hand. “Don’t play tough! If you don’t sign, you won’t even see the corpse!” Someone else pressed down on my hand, forcing me to hold the pen. “You’ll sign this today, willingly or not!” A hard kick landed on my knee, and Ronnie spat in my ear. “Hurry up! That little bastard is running out of time!” Just then, my phone rang again. I fumbled to answer. The doctor’s voice was a final, frantic alarm. “Mr. Lockwood! The baby’s breathing has nearly stopped. We are performing CPR… If you truly care about this child, get here now!” Bianca’s smile deepened. “Callum, time’s up. Are you signing or not?” My hands were shaking. I raised the pen, about to touch the paper. The door slammed open. Mr. Peters, my grandfather’s loyal head of house, strode in with four formidable security men. “Stop!” Mr. Peters’s voice boomed. “Everything is a lie.”