They Swapped Me Away, Then Begged Me to Return Chapter 07

They Swapped Me Away, Then Begged Me to Return Chapter 07

On the third night, the beat-up old tablet suddenly lit up. A gray pop-up window appeared, holding a recorded video feed from my old world.

I almost ignored it. My finger hovered over the screen for a long time before I tapped play.

The frame showed my original living room.

The cream-white flower arrangements still lined every surface, champagne balloons clinging to the walls. Mom slipped Grandma’s bracelet onto the other Leah’s wrist.

Beneath the overhead lamp, she smiled bright and flawless.

Mom gazed at her, nothing but satisfaction in her eyes. “It looks perfect on you.”

The other Leah brushed a finger over the bracelet. “Thank you, Mom.”

The word rolled off her tongue far too easily.

I’d braced myself for heartache, but my wrist had been empty for too long—only a dull, faint ache lingered.

Dad handed her a stack of promotion review materials. “Leah, could you tweak the section outlining my project achievements?”

Lucy skimmed just two pages. “Rewrite this youth initiative to list you as the lead creator.”

Dad hesitated. “But Gavin was the one who ran the whole project.”

Lucy smiled faintly. “In this industry, whoever delivers the final results gets credit as the lead.”

Mom jumped in immediately. “That’s your father’s problem—he’s far too honest, which is why he’s been stuck at this rank for years.”

Evan sat beside her, twisting his laptop toward her. “The investors need supplementary paperwork tomorrow. Can you go over it?”

Lucy glanced at the screen and deleted an entire page of risk disclaimers without hesitation. “Cut all of this. Investors won’t sign off on extra funding if they see potential liabilities.”

Evan wavered. “But if something goes wrong later, we’ll face liability claims—”

Lucy lifted her gaze to him. “I thought you trusted me?”

Evan clamped his mouth shut instantly.

I sat by the window watching the scene unfold, and finally understood how she’d won everyone over so quickly.

She never thought about long-term consequences. She only focused on giving people exactly what they craved in the moment.

Any fallout that followed? Someone else would bear it.

The next day, Mom’s bakery blew up online—not from a flood of orders, but from viral complaints.

Customers had found expired jam in their cakes, and the comment sections seethed with outrage.

Mom paced frantically behind the counter, while Lucy lounged at the register, slowly applying lipstick. “What’s there to panic about? Blame a competing bakery for sabotaging us.”

Mom’s voice shook. “But you were the one who told me to buy that cheap batch of jam.”

Lucy lifted her eyes coolly. “I suggested it, but you chose to place the order. Adults take responsibility for their own decisions.”

Mom froze completely.

Staring through the screen, I recalled all the times she’d said the exact same thing to me.

“You’re all grown up—stop blaming your family for every little thing.”

Now she finally knew how sharp those words stung when they turned back on her.

By evening, Dad’s workplace called.

Someone had filed a formal complaint alleging his promotion materials contained fabricated project credits.

Dad gripped his phone so tight his knuckles whitened.

Lucy sighed softly beside him. “Dad, how could you be so careless?”

For the first time, Dad didn’t rush to agree with her.

But Evan’s downfall was far worse.

Investors had uncovered the deleted risk clauses, immediately frozen all funding transfers, and demanded a full audit of his data sources.

He stumbled home, his dress shirt crumpled and rumpled.

Lucy leaned back on the sofa, not bothering to glance his way. “Don’t pin all your failures on me.

I only offered suggestions. You were the one who clicked confirm on every decision.”

The living room fell dead silent after that line.

Watching their stricken faces, I felt no sense of triumph—only a hollow, belated desolation.

They’d finally seen her true colors, not because they’d missed and regretted me, but because their perfect savior had turned against them too.

Near the end of the footage, Mom’s gaze drifted toward the fully renovated bedroom.

A flicker of recognition crossed her face, like she’d just remembered something long forgotten. The star-shaped nightlight was gone, along with my old comforters and every book I’d left behind.

She whispered quietly, “Is the original Leah’s mango allergy better now?”

Evan’s head shot up, but no one answered her.

Lucy let out a short laugh. “Mom. Isn’t it a little late to start worrying about her now?”

She stood and pulled the bedroom door shut behind her as the video cut off.