From a soundproofed room in a private facility came hoarse screams:

"I AM MARCUS MITCHELL! That venomous bitch switched our bodies!"


"You can't keep me locked up! When I get out, I'll destroy all of you! You'll never work again!"

Unfortunately for him, the attendants outside his door were all deaf—specially hired at premium wages.

He could scream until his vocal cords ruptured.


No one would ever hear him.

I pushed open the door to find Marcus secured to the bed with medical restraints.


His violent thrashing had left his wrists raw and bleeding.

Seeing me, his eyes locked onto mine with pure hatred:

"Olivia Blackwood! You venomous snake! You BITCH!"

His voice was a ragged whisper:

"When I get my body back—and I will—I'll destroy everything you love!"

Rather than anger, I responded with a gentle smile, approaching him with the soothing tone one might use with a hormonal pregnant woman:

"Husband, conserve your energy."

"This body you're in can't handle such stress."

"Curious about the outside world? Let me update you."

I perched on the edge of the bed and calmly narrated recent events.

How Wilson remained in intensive care, unlikely to ever recover.

How Nathan would spend his remaining decades in maximum security.

His expression morphed from disbelief to terror, his body convulsing uncontrollably.

In his extreme distress,

a rush of warm fluid suddenly soaked the bedsheets—

His water had broken.

Fortunately, I'd assembled an elite obstetric team on standby.

For the next fourteen hours,

Marcus Mitchell discovered the true meaning of hell on earth.

Trapped in a female body, he endured the searing agony of childbirth.

He screamed, sobbed, cursed...

Eventually, he broke completely, begging for mercy.

As dawn broke,

with one final, throat-shredding scream,

he delivered a healthy baby boy.

Marcus lay limp on the delivery table, like a drowning victim pulled from the depths.

A nurse approached with the swaddled, cleaned infant.

As his eyes filled with primal longing,

I raised my hand, stopping the nurse from placing the child in his arms.

"Take him to the nursery,"

I instructed coolly. "Ensure the young master receives the best care."

Marcus couldn't even glimpse his son's face clearly.

His trembling hand remained suspended in air, his eyes pleading for the first time.

"I know how to switch us back."

I stated matter-of-factly.

His eyes widened with desperate hope tinged with suspicion:

"You'd... you'd actually switch us back?"

"Of course."

I withdrew a document from my briefcase and placed it before him.

"Sign this divorce agreement, and our accounts will be settled."

He stared at the papers, fingers trembling, internal conflict evident in his eyes.

In the end, desperation to escape the female form overrode all else.

He bit his fingertip hard enough to draw blood.
I pressed my own bloody thumbprint beside his.

I carefully tucked the agreement away and turned to leave.

"When do we switch back?"

Marcus called out desperately.

I paused at the doorway, glancing back:

"No rush."

My tone left no room for debate.

"First, you need to complete the postpartum recovery period and return my body to optimal health."