My son had an asthma attack, and I
calmly watched him suffocate to
death
My three–year–old son, Ethan, was having an
asthma attack. I watched him struggling to
breathe, his face turning blue. But this time, I
didn’t panic.
Last time this happened, it changed my life
forever. My husband, David, had died, leaving
me to raise Ethan alone.
I worked three jobs, slept four hours a night,
all to pay for his medical bills.
Then one morning, while sweeping the streets
before dawn, a truck hit me.
At the hospital, Ethan refused treatment for
- me. He pulled the plug.
That’s when I found out he wasn’t my son.
My sister, Jessica, confessed, “Surprise! I
switched the babies at birth! Hahaha!”
L
“You spent your life savings on my son. Your
real son? I… took care of him. Let’s just say
he won’t be bothering anyone anymore.‘
I died, furious, watching her sell my house,
living the happy family life I’d craved.
Now, I was back. Reborn on the day Ethan
first had an attack.
“Mommy, hold me! Cough, cough! Mommy,
help! It hurts!” Ethan’s cries echoed.
I sat up, instantly alert. It was real. I was back.
Back to the moment that ruined me.
He was only three. His first asthma attack.
His little face was red, his lips turning purple.
In my past life, I’d been so focused on saving
David’s only child, I never questioned why
Ethan had asthma. It’s usually genetic, and
neither David nor I had it.
Ethan’s cries intensified. I got out of bed.
I looked at him struggling on the floor. I
smiled. I didn’t pick him up.
く
Instead, I opened my phone, calmly recorded
a video, and sent it to Jessica.
“Jess, what’s wrong with Ethan? He keeps
calling for his Aunt Jessie.”
I sent the message, tossed the phone aside.
Ethan’s face grew paler. He couldn’t speak,
just gasped for air, eyes wide.
It hurt, a little, to watch. Even knowing he
wasn’t mine, I had some feelings for him.
But he’d unplugged me. Smirked while I died.
He’d said, “You’re not my mom. Wasting
money on you is stupid!”
That’s how I learned the truth. The child I’d
saved with David’s life insurance and three
back–breaking jobs, was my sister’s.
Switched at birth. Jessica used my money to
save her son.
They’d known each other all along, waiting for
me to die so they could take David’s house.
Then I remembered Jessica’s other
badly. Left him… somewhere he wouldn’t be
found.
Panic set in. I grabbed my phone, dialed 911.
Just then, pounding on the door. “Ashley!
Open up!”
Jessica. Here already. Like mother, like son.
I waited a beat, then opened the door.
Jessica shoved past me, rushing inside.
She saw Ethan convulsing on the floor, and
screamed.
“Ashley! What are you doing? He’s dying! Get
him to the hospital!”
Before, even a cough from Ethan had me
sleepless. I’d practically lived at the hospital
until they kicked us out.
But I’d died once. I knew Jessica’s game. I
wasn’t falling for it again.
I shrugged. “You know, David and I were so in
love. These past three years have been hell.
I’ve wanted to join him for a while now.”
<
“This is… good. Once Ethan’s gone, I’ll… join
him. We’ll be a family again, down below.”
I faked a sob, continued, “You’re just in time
to… take care of things. Make sure we’re
buried together, the three of us…‘
Jessica stared, horrified. Like I was a
monster.
“You’re heartless! He’s your son! I’ll save
him!”
She lunged for Ethan, but I blocked her.
“He’s my son. What do you think you’re
doing?”
She stomped her foot, eyes blazing.
“How can you be so cruel? He’s a human
being!”
Oh, her son’s life mattered. But mine didn’t?
Did she think about that when she… got rid
of him?
I ignored her, watched them both. Jessica
wouldn’t take Ethan while I was here.
Then, movement outside. A figure burst in,
scooped up Ethan, and ran.
“Jessica, what are you waiting for?! He’s
foaming at the mouth!”
I watched them go, a chill gripping me.
That was my mom. Always favored Jessica.
I didn’t mind the favoritism. But she’d helped
switch the babies. Let Jessica… do what she
did to my son.
The thought made me tremble. Her daughters.
Her grandsons. How could she?
