Cerita Pendek & Novel Familial Bond Awakening

When I was eight years old, Kieran Blackwood, Alpha of the Ironwood Pack, saved me from a rogue wolf den. He adopted me and said he would protect me for life. When I was twelve, I met Beta Ryan Cross. He treated me as her own sister and also promised to protect me for life. But later, these two men who swore to guard me forever pushed me into the flames with their own hands. All to please their childhood sweetheart. But when I ran away from Ironwood Pack, the Alpha and Beta both went crazy.

I stood in the shadows, the scent of pine and frost heavy in the air, watching my mate, Ethan, smile—truly smile—for the first time in years. But not at me. At her. My cousin, Isla. His first love. She sat beside him, warm and glowing, with our pups, Lucas and Mia, curled up against her like she was their real mother. They were laughing, sharing bites of ice-cream cake, the kind Lucas once said made his stomach hurt. I was never meant to be here. I wasn't his choice. He didn't fall in love with me—he was assigned to me. To him, our bond was never about love. It was a political arrangement—an alliance between two packs: his power, my father’s ambition. A tie forged not by hearts, but by bloodlines and borders. He never touched me unless required. He never looked at me like I was his Luna. In that moment, as their laughter echoed under the full moon, I felt the mate bond falter—thin, fading, like breath in winter. And I knew. I had played my part long enough. So I turned away. It was time to severe the bond that was never truly mine. But when he sensed I was really leaving, when the tether between us began to snap, he broke. Dropped to his knees, clutching the pups like lifelines, his voice raw. "Please," he whispered, "don't leave me." Even the pups cried, reaching for me with shaking hands. "Mom, we’re sorry… We didn't mean it. Please don't go."

To save the three most important men in my life, I made a deal with the Moon Goddess. Trade my life for theirs. If I could make any one of them truly love me within five years, I'd get to live. But on the final day of the countdown, all three still had negative feelings toward me. According to the rules, I'd failed. My life was about to be erased. "Moon Goddess, could I send one last message? One final try?" Maybe out of pity, she granted me this last attempt. This message was my final shot. I hit the voice button in our group chat, fighting to keep my voice steady. "Could you guys love me just a little? I'm really going to die." After a moment of silence came their merciless laughter. "You'll do anything to compete with Lidia for attention, won't you?" "Cut the lies. This just makes us hate you more." "If you're so desperate to die, then just do it already." Mission failed. I gave them exactly what they wanted. But when I was about to die, they all freaked out.

I was a stray pup. At five years old, several elite warriors captured me and threw me in front of the Alpha heir, Lucas. I heard his wolf talking to Lucas in his mind. "Lucas, this damn little thing is a hybrid of a werewolf and an evil witch. The prophecy shows she will be extremely vicious in the future, even killing your Mate. For the Moon Goddess, you must kill her now to protect your future Luna." Lucas agreed carelessly. But when he saw me, he froze. "Seriously? Dude, you’re saying this tiny thing is a homicidal maniac? How vicious can she be? Cursing the future Luna with a lollipop?" I tugged the corner of Lucas's expensive shirt, and looked up. "Big brother, I'm so hungry." He looked at my body, starved to just bones, and hesitated. "Anyway, the mate hasn't appeared yet. Might as well let her eat first. Even when we execute rogues, we usually let them eat their fill before killing them." His wolf replied, "Makes sense... but after she's full, you can't hesitate again!" From that day on, he raised me, this mixed-race brat, like a little sister in his pack. For over a decade, he and his wolf plotted countless times how to kill me, but always found various excuses to postpone the execution. Until I was 16, my brother was injured and lying in the healing center, but his wolf, having lost its will to live after being rejected by its mate, was unable to heal itself. The healer said my brother was going to die. I didn't try to stop him; I just found that playboy from school who had harassed me. I forced him to send my brother a mind link. "Alpha, I just wanted to say, Emma's body is really... really banging. I'll take good... care of her for you." I even chimed in through the mind link with a flirtatious whine. "Jason, don't be like that, Lucas will get mad... stop it." Less than half a second later. An earth-shattering roar came. "Son of a bitch! Jason, get the fuck away from her!" "If you touch a single finger on her, I'll tear you to shreds!"

My family sold one of their properties to put me through school abroad. Nathan Kingsley and I had been together three years. Two of those were long-distance. Through those two years of me alone overseas, he never broke contact — airport pickups, long phone calls, every anniversary remembered. I'd never once doubted him. I thought distance hadn't beaten us. The day I flew home, he was waiting at Arrivals with a bouquet of flowers. He smiled and said, "Finally." We set the engagement date. We picked out the dress. We booked the reception. The day the wedding march began and I stood at the top of the aisle looking at him, I thought — these three years were worth every minute. Then the doors behind me opened. My sister walked into the chapel, in a white dress, and slid her arm through his. She smiled at me. "Sorry, sis. Those airport pickups? I'm the one who sent him. For the last three years, he's been mine the whole time."

My parents always said the world had no sympathy for the weak. So from the moment my younger brother and I could walk, they put us through what they called the 'Strong Child Program.' At five years old, we had to run five kilometers every day. If we could not finish, we were not allowed to eat. At seven, my brother broke his arm. My parents refused to let the doctors use anesthesia, saying enduring pain was a lesson every strong person had to learn. At nine, I burned with a 104℉ fever. Instead of taking me to the hospital, they wiped my body with ice water and forced me to endure it because 'sick children grow stronger immunity.' Then, on the first day of summer vacation, my father announced this year's special training: We were going to learn to swim in the Roaring Spine River. No life jackets. No safety gear. "You only learn after choking on water a few times," my father said. But my brother choked over a hundred times and still could not swim. I desperately swam toward him, trying to pull him back to shore, but somehow the distance between us only kept growing. I called my father, screaming for help, begging him to call emergency services. But after listening to me, he only snorted coldly. "Who learns swimming without swallowing some water? "Your brother isn't made of paper. "Stop yelling and focus on learning to swim." But by then, my brother had already been swept away by the current…

We have a family group chat meant for the core members only. It's named "the Coppola family". The ones in the group are my father, my mother, my oldest brother, Fabio Coppola; my second brother, Luca Coppola, and my little sister, Francesca Coppola. Oh, that's not all. Fabio's bloodhound, Fido; Luca's ragdoll, Neve; and Francesca's fancy rat, Pico, are members of the group chat too. I'm the only one who's not included in that group. There's once when I ask Francesca, "Can you add me into the group?" She's in the middle of feeding Pico at that time. Without bothering to glance at me, she replies, "That group is meant for insiders only. Wouldn't you feel awkward if you were to join the group, Valentina?" I just look at Pico, who keeps screeching in Francesca's arms. It has a special nickname and the right to speak up in the family group. To think that I, the Coppolas' biological daughter, am nothing compared to a fancy rat.

On her eighteenth birthday, the long-lost heiress, Cassie Bailey, was finally tracked down by her mother, Ann Moore, CEO of the Bailey Group. However, Cassie refused to come back with her. Instead, she chose to remain adopted by a man living on government assistance. “So what if you’re rich? The bonds ordinary people share can’t be measured with money. Since you weren’t there for me for the past eighteen years, then I won’t acknowledge you for the next eighteen years either!” [Oh my God, she’s such a queen. That fearless, untouched-by-materialism energy is exactly why we love her.] [But her mother is literally the richest woman in Orkta. Is turning that down really a good idea?] The richest woman in Orkta? I shook my head and rubbed my eyes several times before finally accepting the fact that I could somehow see those floating comments. Well, if Cassie did not want a life of unimaginable wealth, I was more than happy to take her place. As everyone watched in stunned silence, I shoved my way through the crowd and grabbed Ann’s hand. “Mom, are you here to take me home?”

During my three-year-old son's preschool physical, his blood type didn't match mine or my wife's. I had just printed the divorce papers when I suddenly heard my son's voice. [This disgusting man is so stupid. He's raised me, his own little brother, as his son for years and still has no idea!] [Lol, hurry up and get divorced. Once they divorce, I can cling openly to my real mom!] [And divorced men are unwanted anyway. From now on, every dollar he earns will be mine!] My wife was still anxiously explaining, "Honey! I really never betrayed you! Do you really want a divorce?" I looked at my son's tightly closed lips and excited eyes, then tore up the divorce papers instead. "No divorce. Since he isn't our child anyway, let's throw him away."

My daughter, Bessie Garcia, had very little self-discipline. The only reason she studied at all was that I constantly pushed her. Three months before the SATs, I could not resist sending a question to myself ten years into the future. “Did Bessie get into an Ivy League school? What kind of job does she have now? Please tell me the last three years of hard work were worth it! How far have Meera and I gotten on our trip around the world? Did we have a second child?” A hopeful smile spread across my face. Then, I saw the man on the other side of the screen. His skin was sallow. He was so thin that he was almost unrecognizable. “An Ivy League school? After graduation, she publicly accused you of controlling and emotionally abusing her for more than ten years. The entire internet branded you a sick, controlling father. Meera divorced you and went on to have a child with her first love. As for you… years of staying up late, putting your life on hold, and constantly supervising Bessie’s studies left you with terminal pancreatic cancer. Your daughter and ex-wife have cut you out of their lives completely. You have only one month left to live.” I was stunned. Just then, Bessie’s voice sounded from her room as she talked to someone online. “My dad? He’s a pathetic control freak. His wife doesn’t love him, so he takes it out on me by trying to control my life. The more he forces me to study, the worse I’ll bomb the exams! Watching him lose his mind in rage is the only satisfaction I get. Once the SATs are over, I’m moving out and cutting him out of my life for good!” Tears splashed against the back of my hand. A moment later, I withdrew her from every SATs prep course and sent her a text. [You don’t have to attend those tutoring classes anymore. From now on, I won’t ask anything of you. It’s your life, so you should get to decide how to live it.]

My mom calls me on Friday. "Don't forget to attend the family dinner tomorrow. Your brother loves shrimps, so you should buy more of those at the seafood market in the southern district. "Your sister-in-law loves lamb chops. Why don't you go scour for more in the eastern district? Also, your nephew loves imported strawberries, so you mustn't forget them now." I say yes to everything. But as soon as I end the call, I see a new message in the family's group chat. "I already told Alan the things that we love to eat. It's hard for you all to earn money, so you shouldn't buy anything at all." One second later, the message is swiftly deleted. Still, the sight renders me stunned. I've been married for two years. During every Saturday dinner, I'm the one putting in money and effort just to organize said dinner. I've been thinking that I don't have to count every little favor, seeing as we're family and all. But it seems that I've already become an outsider a long time ago. Well then, I shall not be attending the family dinner this time.

I'm the only son of my parents, who are the richest people in the country. Yet, they decide to raise me while giving me as little money as possible. In order to toughen me up, they decide to only give me five thousand dollars per year. "Two thousand dollars is for college tuition, and the remaining three thousand dollars is for your living costs and accommodation. If you want to stay at home, you'll need to pay rent—500 dollars a day. If you don't have the money, you can write an IOU." But I end up getting robbed that night, leaving me penniless. In order to be able to continue my college studies, I can only ask my parents for money. Of course, they turn me down immediately. "You actually learned how to lie just to swindle more money from us, eh? Since you refuse to learn your lesson, your allowance for next year will be cut in half." My parents refuse to listen to my explanation and insist on kicking me out. So, I can only work three jobs per day, allowing me to save up two thousand dollars. But the moment I save the money in my account, it gets frozen instantly. That's when my parents begin mocking me. "And here you are, claiming that you didn't lie to us! Where did you get the tuition fees from, then? We shall confiscate the money as a form of punishment. You can use the rest of your money for your studies." Amid my despair, I see the live comments streaking before my eyes. "The male lead's parents want him to realize that it isn't easy living out there. When they hired the thugs to rob him blind, their hearts ached so much for him that they cried." "I hope that the male lead can grow up as soon as possible. That way, the misunderstanding will get resolved, and the family of three can continue living happily ever after." But this time, the comments can no longer console me. I place the house keys on the porch quietly before turning on my heel and walking away. I don't want these parents of mine anymore.

My mother was a control freak of the highest order. To keep a tighter grip on me, she created a burner account, posed as a sympathetic older-sister type, and became the person I confided in online. She even started a thread about it, practically glowing with pride. [He sends me his bank passwords and private photos of his crush all on his own! Once he gets into a top school, I'm applying as his dorm supervisor. When he gets married, I'm hiding under their bed!] I scrolled through the comments. Tons of people were ripping her to shreds. I laughed. She thought she had total control. She had no idea I was feeding her exactly what I wanted her to see. The bank password I sent two days ago was fake. The 'private photos of my crush' were stock images I pulled off the internet. I took my time typing out a message: [Hey, my dad brought a woman home last night. They were making out on the couch. I secretly recorded it. Want to see?] A scream ripped through the wall from the next room. I put my headphones on and leaned back. The show was just getting started.

There were two famous good-for-nothings the gods loved to gossip about. One was me, Vera, the little princess of the Star Court, with most of my twin starblood ruined, good for nothing but eating, drinking, and playing. The other was my twin brother Orson. His life-fire was broken, and he was unable to stand being anywhere with too many people. But our eldest brother, Theron, was the next King of the Gods. Our second brother, Drake, was the Dragon Sovereign, who held every gold vein of the dragon clan in his hand. Our elder sister, Sylvia, was the heir to the Sacred Spring, the one art that could rekindle a dying life-fire. Our mother was the last High Priestess of the Court of Chaos, born able to carry different bloodlines of the gods. The day the star sea collapsed, Orson and I gave up most of our twin starblood to mend our siblings' fates. They lived. They became the three strongest elders the gods had ever known. And Orson and I became two cripples. Our days were simple: mooch meals off our eldest brother, spend our second brother's gold, and wait for our sister to feed us. That was until my sweet tooth carried me to a banquet thrown for Circe, the woman everyone said would become our eldest brother's bride. At that banquet, Circe, the daughter of House Siren, held up one blurry memory echo and insisted it was me who had climbed into Lord Theron's carriage the night before, stealing her betrothal to the Divine Court. I explained patiently, "You've got the wrong person. That was my brother. And this is my brother too." Circe exploded on the spot. She used her power to cripple me all over again, and nearly killed Orson. "One shameless slut, one useless idiot. A match made in heaven." It wasn't until my brother and I lay barely breathing that my three siblings tore House Siren's wards to shreds, and the whole realm of the gods shook.

When I was six, a car crash wiped out most of my memory. My foster parents told me my parents had died that night. They said they had taken me in, given me their name, their home, and the protection of one of New York's most powerful families. So I spent twelve years proving I deserved to stay. I cleaned up my younger sister Bianca's messes, handed her the credit for my work, and locked every trophy I earned in a wooden archive box because my success made the family's real daughter uncomfortable. Then, at eighteen, I ordered a certified birth record for my student visa. The clerk looked at me and said, "Your parents have always been Vittorio and Elena Romano. There's no adoption on file." I had never been an orphan. Bianca knew. My relatives knew. The family attorney knew. Even the old butler who carried me home from the hospital knew. For twelve years, everyone had played a part in the same lie. So I hid the birth certificate and kept playing the grateful adopted daughter. I fixed Bianca's speech, prepared her heir's gala, and smiled while my family erased my name one last time. They had no idea I'd already booked a one-way flight out of their lives.

For seven years of my marriage to Damian Moretti, my daughter and I were so poor that every night we collected empty bottles from the alley behind a bar. Every time Ella traded the bottles in for change, she would ask me, "Mommy, do we have enough saved to go to the aquarium with Daddy yet?" Damian always said we had no money. Then, on the day I finally saved enough for three tickets, I arrived at the aquarium only to find him at the entrance holding his ex-girlfriend's hand, with her son in his arms. A staff member stopped us. "Sorry, Mr. Moretti has reserved the entire aquarium for a private event tonight." A bodyguard in black stepped up beside Damian and bowed his head. "Don, the car is ready." The truth was that my supposedly penniless husband, the man who claimed he could not afford his own daughter's ticket, had reclaimed the Moretti Family long ago and become New York's new Don. It was not that he had no money. He simply refused to spend any of it on us. Later I took my daughter and left New York, and the Vitale Family found me. I inherited the family's ports, took control of the Atlantic Shipping Alliance, and became a Donna before whom countless mafia families bowed. Damian, eyes red, begged me to come home. I only pushed the divorce papers across to him. "Damian, I am already home. And you were never my family."

Over summer break, right after graduation, my parents, Stuart and Rachel Powell, decided the whole family would take a road trip together. But the moment I hauled my suitcase up to the car door, Mom's hand shot out to stop me. "There's no room. Maybe you should just sit this one out." She glanced back at the seat behind her. "Aiden doesn't want you along, either. He's not feeling well right now, so give way to him." My knuckles went white on the suitcase handle, and my throat turning bitter. Aiden was the biological son they'd lost years ago and only just found again. Ever since he came back, everything that used to be mine had gone to him. Slowly, I'd been pushed to the margins of the family I'd lived with for eighteen years. Aiden's autism meant he would have a meltdown the second he saw me. I even had to wear a mask to sleep. They left me standing there and drove off without a backward glance. A few minutes later, the family group chat started blowing up. Joy Harris, my childhood friend, posted two test scores: 85/100 and 47/100. [Aiden's foundation is weak. He probably just didn't test well.] [I've decided to repeat the year with him.] I sent back a single, stunned question mark. A second later, Dad kicked me out of the chat. I took a breath and opened my laptop. Quietly, I changed every one of my college applications to schools thousands of miles from home. This time, I was choosing my own path.

To teach me independence, my parents enforced a fifty-fifty rule from the time I was little. Half the rent for my room. Half the cost of a breakfast sandwich. Even when a high fever sent me to the ER, they added half the bill to my debt and reminded me, "Get a summer job. Don't make a habit of owing people money." I always believed they just wanted me to become independent. Then my younger sister, Chloe, was born. Whenever she broke something and owed Mom money, all she had to do was give her a kiss. "All right, sweetheart. Debt paid." When Chloe wanted piano lessons, she made Dad breakfast once, and he happily paid for an entire year. But every dollar spent on me went straight into the family ledger. On my eighteenth birthday, I looked at the cake and quietly asked Mom, "Can I mow the lawn to cover my share?" She frowned. "Sophie, you pay what you owe. Don't look for shortcuts." "You still owe us $1,704.08 from last month. When are you going to pay it back?" I didn't answer. I only tightened my grip on the letter in my pocket offering me a full scholarship to New York University. Soon. Once I paid it off, my debt to this family would be settled. After that, I would never owe them another cent.

My mom's dying of cancer, and her final wish is to see me settle down and start a family. I beg my girlfriend, Yvonne Hurst, and my childhood friend, Colin Lowell, to help me put on this act for Mom. After asking them 88 times, they finally agree to play along and help me fulfill her last wish. On the day of the wedding, Mom clings to the last of her strength, waiting until the very end for the bride and best man to arrive. But they never do. Instead, Colin posts a photo online. Yvonne's in her wedding dress, and Colin is dressed as the best man. The two of them stand beside a cake, beaming at the camera. "My best friend's getting married, and the bride went all the way across town to pick up a cake with me," his caption reads. A guy couldn't ask for a better girlfriend. He's one lucky man." The location tag leads to a popular bakery known for its cakes. I call Yvonne and demand to know what is going on. "Isn't this all supposed to be about fulfilling your mom's dying wish?" she asked, sounding casual, almost dismissive. "I thought I'd spend some time with Colin and help him relax. It'll make our performance more convincing later." Colin leans over and laughs. "Yeah, Nathan. We're just messing with you. We'll be back soon," he assures me. "Tell Ms. Brooks to wait a little longer." Only then do I understand that my desperate pleas and Mom's dying wish mean nothing to them. To them, it is all just a harmless joke. I stare at the heart monitor as its beeping flattens into one long, unbroken tone, tears blurring my vision. When this absurd little act finally comes to an end, I'm the only one left to bear the consequences. From this moment on, I'm going to let them go. And finally, I'll let myself move on.

After my sister and I were both diagnosed with liver failure, we were admitted to the same hospital. But only one matching donor liver was available. My family favored her. I still wanted to live. I broke down in the hospital hallway, pleading with my parents for that chance. Someone filmed me and posted the video online. Everyone called me cold and selfish. They said I had sacrificed my humanity just to stay alive. When it was time to sign the preoperative paperwork, my brother finally came to my room. His face was hard. The moment he saw me, he started in on me. He wouldn't even look at me. "This family has always indulged you because you're the youngest. Haven't you caused enough trouble? "Camilla Hale is only twenty. Her life is just beginning. "You've been sickly since childhood, but we've taken care of you all these years. What would it cost you to put her first this once? "You've been sick your whole life, and you've always pulled through." He didn't know Camilla had secretly switched our test results. Before I could tell him, his phone rang. Camilla sobbed on the other end, asking if I was still being heartless. Henry's voice softened as he reassured her. "Don't be afraid. I'm here. "This is yours. No one is going to take it from you." Whenever I got sick as a child, my brother, Henry Hale, carried me to the hospital on his back. Back then, he would hold my hand and say, "Livia, I'll be your guardian angel." Now, as I looked at his familiar face, I understood how much trouble I had caused everyone... "All right, Henry. She can have the transplant."