Plot Twists Short Stories & Bias Biological Family Novels

On New Year's Eve, a crowd crush broke out, and I was carried into the field treatment tent along with Maya Bellamy, the underprivileged student my family had been sponsoring. My own brother, Derek Calder, the incident commander, glanced at me. My ribs were caved in, and I kept coughing up blood. Then he called every medic over to put ice on Maya's slightly twisted ankle. "Maya's dance final is coming up. Nothing can happen to that foot!" When I weakly begged him for help, he gave me a stern, self-righteous lecture. "I'm your brother. If I'm the first one to give you special treatment, what will all the injured people out there think of me? Act your age, and don't make trouble for me right now!" The pain had me on the verge of passing out. All I could do was grab my boyfriend, Ethan Kessler, when he rushed over. "Ethan, I can't breathe..." But he pried my hand off him, his face full of impatience. "You've had asthma since you were a kid, and you don't even carry your inhaler. How can you blame anyone else? "Maya was in the most dangerous part of the crowd, right in the middle. You were stuck out at the edge by the planters. How could you be hurt worse than she is? Why do you always have to compare yourself to her?" Then he carefully scooped Maya up in his arms and ran to the ambulance that had just arrived, without looking back. But he seemed to have forgotten that when the crowd went down, he was the one who shoved me into the surging mass of people, just to clear a safe spot for Maya. And my brother never noticed that the strange heaving of my chest meant my broken ribs had already pierced my organs.

My twin sister, wanting to be with her thug boyfriend, secretly planned to apply for a junior college. When I could not talk her out of it, I told our parents and managed to stop her. However, just a month into the new semester, her thug boyfriend cheated on her. She left a suicide note, blaming it all on the long distance between them. She wrote that if she had gone to that junior college, her boyfriend would never have cheated. Grief‑stricken, my parents turned all their rage on me. "You wretched girl, this is all your fault for meddling! What business was it of yours which school your sister went to? Even if she didn't go to college, we could still support her. We didn't need your big mouth!" "If it weren't for your spiteful tongue, your sister wouldn't be dead!" "We were cursed to have a vicious, unfilial daughter like you!" They locked me in her room, ordering me to repent. Then they took her ashes on a trip, saying they wanted her to see the beautiful mountains and rivers she never got to visit in life. A month later, they returned from their travels to find me long dead, starved to a withered husk in front of my sister's photo. Their eyes held no grief, no guilt, only a faint, scornful curl of the lips. In their eyes, my death was nothing more than justice served. My broken soul saw their icy expressions, and despairing tears burned my eyes. Then my sister's familiar voice rang out again: "What business is it of yours which school I go to? You're just jealous that I have a boyfriend, aren't you?"

The day I was admitted to Crownstone College, my parents threw a thirty-table banquet to celebrate my younger brother, Jason. There was a banner across the hall. [Congratulations to Jason on getting into vocational school. You've brought honor to the family.] When it was time to cut the cake, Jason made a wish in front of all the guests. "I hope my sister gets married soon and stops wasting the family's money." The relatives raised their glasses and praised him for being so sensible. Dad beamed with pride. "A boy who learns a trade has a solid future. Unlike a girl, no matter how much she studies, she'll end up getting married anyway." I sat alone in the corner. The doctor had diagnosed me with severe depression and warned that I couldn't handle any more emotional shocks. My parents said I was bad luck. They told me not to have another episode and ruin my brother's celebration. I nodded, picked up my medical report, and walked to the rooftop of the hotel. Right then, my phone rang. On the other end were my parents from eighteen years ago. My young Dad laughed through tears. "It's a girl! We have a daughter!" My young Mom's voice trembled. "Sweetheart, I just gave birth to you. "Did our child grow up feeling loved by us throughout all eighteen years?" Listening to the applause from the banquet hall below, I laughed until I could barely breathe. "Yeah, you loved your child very much. "It just wasn't me." "What do you mean? Jess, don't scare me–" I smiled in relief but didn't answer her. I could hear fireworks from below. It sounded like they were celebrating my disappearance from this family. I closed my eyes, leaned forward, and jumped.

Mom's hearing comes and goes. She never hears me when I tell her I want to buy a new pair of shoes because my old pair has a hole. But when my sister, Stella Woodson, mentions that she wants to eat a birthday cake, she immediately gives me some money and tells me to run through the rain to buy one. Only two shrimps are left on the table. I carefully ask if I can have one. The next second, Mom peels both shrimps and puts them on Stella's plate. She then turns to me with a confused expression, asking, "Did you say something, Luna? I didn't hear you." I hang my head in embarrassment and push the mashed potatoes around on my plate, mumbling that I didn't say anything. Later, Mom makes plans to take Stella to Destinyland to enjoy the night scenery. My body aches terribly. I carefully tug on Mom's sleeve and say, "I'm in a lot of pain, Mom." Mom gives me her usual response. "What did you say, Luna? I didn't hear you." She impatiently swats my hand away before I can get another word in, saying, "Stella and I are leaving now to handle some urgent business. Behave yourself while you're home alone."

The year my sister turned fifteen, my father, Grant Davis, became obsessed with holding auctions at home. Everything in the house, from a plate of meat to a turn with the washing machine, from school lunch money to after-school activity fees, had to be won by bidding with family credits. I worked odd jobs until I dropped, sleeping only three hours a night, and finally saved up a thick stack of family credits, the paper soft and warped from my sweat. All Melody had to do was sit on the couch and shed a few tears, and my father would stuff fistfuls of credits into her arms. "Girls deserve to be spoiled. Can't have Melody feeling left out." That day, the item up for auction was an old necklace that had belonged to my grandmother, Ruth Bennett. Eyes burning, I pushed everything I had onto the table. "Eight thousand." Melody tossed out ten thousand without a second thought, her voice sweet and wheedling. "This necklace would go perfectly with my new dress." I begged my father through tears. "This is the only thing Grandma ever left me. Please." My father slapped me so hard my ears rang and my vision blurred. "Highest bidder wins. That's the rule! You're too poor to win, so don't blame anyone else!" Melody snatched the necklace, gave it a look of disgust, and casually tossed it into the roaring fireplace. "Oops, the fire's getting low. This'll make good kindling." I threw myself at the fireplace. The back of my hand split open instantly from the heat, the skin blistering and peeling away. They left, slamming the door behind them, complaining that my screaming was bad luck in the house. Later, I couldn't stop thinking. If I put my own life on the auction block, how many credits would you bid?

I was the biological son the Rhodes family had spent years searching for. Upon our reunion, all I wanted was to feel accepted. I learned to agree with everything they asked of me, no matter how unreasonable it sounded. Whenever they gave me an order, I followed it. I never questioned them. One afternoon, Reagan Rhodes, the boy who had lived as the Rhodes family's son in my absence, glanced at me and snarled in disgust. "You smell awful. Why don't you get inside the sterilization chamber and disinfect yourself?" I turned toward the industrial machine without hesitation. I stepped inside the chamber, closed the door behind me, and started the machine. My mom discovered me before it was too late. In a panic, she forced the door open and pulled me out herself. My entire body was burning, and my skin had turned an alarming shade of red. Jasmin Rhodes, my older sister, showed no sympathy when she saw me. Instead, she was visibly irritated. "Who are you trying to fool with this act? If you're serious about dying, just take an entire bottle of sleeping pills." I remembered every word. That night, I found a bottle of sleeping pills and swallowed it whole. Jasmin eventually kicked open my bedroom door. By then, I was no longer breathing. She stood frozen beside the bed, staring at my cold body while her hands shook uncontrollably. Some time later, Reagan slipped and scraped his leg. It was a minor injury, yet Jasmin immediately lost her temper with me. "If that leaves a scar on Reagan's leg, you'd better be ready to cut a piece of flesh off your own thigh to make up for it!" I grabbed a shard of broken glass nearby, pressed its sharp edge against my thigh, and cut into my flesh. My parents rushed inside moments later, screaming in horror at the sight of this. Jasmin threw herself at me and snatched the glass shard from my hand before I could continue. "I spoke in a fit of anger! I didn't actually mean it! Why would you even listen to me?" None of them understood what seven years in the mountains had done to me. Back then, defying an order never meant getting scolded or losing a few privileges. Disobedience had only one consequence: death.

My parents had always played favorites. On my birthday, the house was completely empty. Meanwhile, my older brother, Howard Moore, posted a nine-photo grid on social media, showing off a huge birthday cake. In every picture, Mom and Dad were gathered around him, smiling like they couldn’t be prouder. I called them. Laughter poured through the phone from the other end. Still, I gathered every bit of courage I had and asked softly, “Why didn’t I even get a happy birthday?” The line went silent for a second. Then Mom’s bright, smiling voice came through. “Because Howard is handsome. Taking him out makes us look good. But you? Those hooded eyes and that bulbous nose. Honestly, if we didn’t feel sorry for you, we would’ve gotten rid of you a long time ago.” Howard took the phone from her and said gently, “You know you’re adopted, right? Did you really think you were one of us?” I stood there for a long time, too stunned to move. After that, I stopped talking. But deep down, I still craved the love of my biological parents. So I secretly made a post online, looking for my biological family. I didn’t expect Howard to find it. He took a screenshot and sent it to the school’s anonymous gossip account. “The fake Moore kid is looking for his parents. Anyone lose an ugly little kid?” I cried for a long time. Then late that night, I walked past their bedroom door, which had been left slightly open. Howard’s laughter floated out, clear and bright. “He actually believed it! This is hilarious! Let’s hire someone to pretend to be his parents. I can’t wait to see him on his knees, begging us.” Dad took a sip of his tea. “Do whatever you want.” Mom added, “Just don’t go too far.” Outside the door, my fingers slowly loosened around the doorknob.

After we submit our college applications, the four of us sit down to figure out where to go for our graduation trip. My cousin, Alia Fulton, taps her finger on a travel agency brochure. "I want to go to Moonbrook Town." She glances over at my brother, Trevon Holden, who is glued to his phone playing games. "Where do you want to go, Trevon?" Without bothering to look up, Trevon just mutters, "Anywhere." Alia beams and turns to my childhood sweetheart, Evan Harper. "How about you, Evan?" Evan gives her a fond smile. "Wherever you pick. I'll handle the itinerary." I look over at Evan, who's looking up travel tips. Nobody asks where I want to go, not even Evan. He has forgotten about his promise to take me to see the ocean. Ever since Alia moved in with us, everyone keeps lecturing me about how hard her life is, telling me I have to let her have her way. Evan is the only one who tells me, "They all tell you to give in, but I won't." He brings me breakfast from home, buys me a study lamp to protect my eyes, and helps me with my homework. "We're going to Jovelle University together. We'll move far away, and you won't ever have to give in to anyone again." But when I log on to verify my application, I see my target school has been swapped out for a local college. I immediately change it back and rush over to Evan's place, only to overhear him talking to Trevon. "Are you sure about giving up Jovelle University to stay local? What about Yelena?" Trevon asked. "Yeah, Alia wants the four of us to stick together, so I changed Yelena's choices too. We're getting married eventually anyway. I can just make it up to her later. She can just let Alia have this one." Right then and there, I decide not to tell him that I've switched my target school back.

When I was ten, I accidentally overheard my mother on the phone. It seemed like she was talking about me being a switched-at-birth rich girl, and that my real last name was Gardner. The coldness and cruelty my mother had shown me all these years suddenly made sense. When I turned 11, I paid an adult to get a maternity test done for both my mother and me. The results confirmed that I was indeed her biological daughter. I kept the report to myself and pretended I was still in the dark.

Mom and Dad have been divorced for ten years. One day, I come across a discussion thread. "Are all children of divorce having it hard?" I join the discussion. "Not always. Personally, I'm living pretty decently. After my parents' divorce, my sister and I were separated—one of us went to live with our paternal grandparents, and the other with our maternal grandparents. "For the last ten years, my parents have visited me once a year. Although they usually only stay for a few days, I can tell that they still love me." Within a minute, someone replies to my comment. "Girl, are you sure? My parents are divorced as well, but they can't bear to leave me at all. I've been with them since I was a kid. On weekdays, I stay with my mom. On the weekend, I go to my dad's. "Honestly, it's like they never divorced at all. LOL." I tap into her profile. The pinned post is a photo of Mom, Dad, and my sister, Hazel Foster. They hug her from either side. The caption reads, "A divorce can end a marriage, but it can't erase the bond we share. I'm glad I'll always be their precious baby." Meanwhile, this morning, Mom replies to me, "Your dad and I have been divorced for so long. Just get him to drop you off at college. It's awkward for me to be there." The next second, I receive Dad's reply. "Ask your mom. I'm a man. What do I know about things like orientation and college? I'll visit you someday when I'm free." I go back to the discussion thread and write back to Hazel. "You're right. Whether or not a child of divorce gets to live a normal life depends entirely on whether the parents still want their child in their lives." After closing the page, I open my email and sign up for an international volunteer program. My destination is a field hospital in a war zone five thousand miles away, where I will spend the next two years. There's no need for me to wait until Mom and Dad have time for me again. I'm never coming back here.

By the time I woke inside the body of the true heir in a novel, the one everyone despised and who had never done a single decent thing, the story was already nearing its end. My biological parents gave up on me after I framed the boy they had raised in my place one time too many. My fiancee was hopelessly obsessed with him. She would have paid for a ten-million-dollar wedding out of her own pocket just to make him smile. My biological sister was his fiercest protector. If I said one thing that upset him, she was ready to make me pay. As the person everyone despised, my ending was obvious. Everyone voted to send me away to a private behavioral-health residence. Curled against him, my fiancee mocked me. "Maybe you'll finally learn how to behave." My parents withdrew everything except a monthly ten-thousand-dollar allowance. "That's the minimum support we'll give you." "Beyond that, you're on your own." I was so delighted that I dropped to one knee and swept them a deep, theatrical bow. "You're too kind, Your Majesty." The next second, every face in the room changed.

Before our wedding, my fiancée, Sarah Hargrave—a professor of medieval history—held a private ceremony in a secluded chapel in the countryside. But not with me. Under the glow of candlelight, she cradled Benjamin Wheeler—her first love, his face gaunt from the cancer consuming him—in her arms. Her smile was soft, almost reverent, as she murmured, "In the eyes of God, vows made before the altar are the only ones that matter. Even if the law says I belong to Daniel, my soul was never his." And so, to the faint echo of hymns and the scent of old incense, they drank from the same silver cup, exchanged rings, and stepped together into the dimly lit sacristy—their makeshift bridal chamber. I watched. Silent. Motionless. No outbursts, no demands for explanation. Just the quiet dialing of a clinic to undo the vasectomy I'd gotten for our future. From fifteen to thirty, I had loved Sarah for fifteen long years. But in all that time, there'd never been room for me. That space had always belonged to Benjamin, my stepbrother. So I let her go. Afterward, I joined a geological research team bound for the isolation of Antarctica—a land cut off from the world, quiet and clean. Before I left, I handed Sarah a divorce agreement…and a final gift to mark the end. I never anticipated that Sarah, who'd always met my devotion with frosty detachment, who'd never once glanced back as I walked away, would look ten years older overnight.

My parents have never known how to take care of anyone. Growing up, every time I get sick, they just send me money and tell me to go buy medicine myself. One time, my appendicitis flares up, and the doctor says it's best to have a family member present for the surgery. I grip my phone, going back and forth in my head, before I finally call my mom. "Mom, can you come to the hospital and stay with me?" She agrees right away on the phone, but by the time my surgery is over, she still hasn't shown up. The only thing keeping me company is a 200-dollar transfer sitting on my screen. I lie in the hospital bed and tell myself that maybe this is just how my family is. We don't know how to show we care. Someone gets sick, money gets sent, medicine gets bought, and everyone moves on. Then, my sister's exams end, and I happen to be home for a few days that summer when she comes down with a fever. Out of habit, I look over at my mom, expecting her to send my sister 200 dollars. But instead, my mom panics, immediately calls out of work, and insists on taking my sister to the hospital herself. My voice comes out hoarse. "Isn't the deal just to send money and let her buy medicine herself?" My brother glares at me. "How can you be so cold-hearted? People are at their most vulnerable when they're sick. They need family by their side." My dad nods along, and the words "I've always gone to the hospital alone" die in my throat before I can say them. I don't argue. I don't make a scene. I just feel an overwhelming sense of relief that my college is a thousand miles away from all of them.

My dad, Nathaniel Carter, was the richest man in town, yet my monthly allowance was only fifty dollars. Mom always told me that Dad had abandoned us because he was ashamed that I was a girl. When I was six, he left behind nothing but divorce papers and disappeared. I never saw him again. That was until I saw him on TV years later, making headlines for spending a billion dollars on a skyscraper for his new son. I had spent years resenting him. I was his child too. Why had he treated me like I never existed? Then one day, I unexpectedly ran into his new son. The first thing he said to me was, “Where have you been all these years? Dad has been looking everywhere for you.”

For three years, my mother had managed $800,000 of my savings. She claimed it was necessary because my wife was a livestream shopping host who spent recklessly. I trusted her. She was my mother—surely, she wouldn’t betray me. Then my warehouse caught fire. The client demanded $60,000 in compensation and threatened to send me to prison if I failed to pay. After countless calls, I finally reached my mother. She fell silent for three seconds before saying, “I don’t have any money.” As the alarm blared and the warehouse burned, I suddenly realized something: In three years, I had never once asked her where my $800,000 went.

In my first year out of college, my mother sues me over the 60 dollars a month I give her for living expenses. In court, she breaks down in tears. "She only gives me 60 dollars a month! And she makes me check in every single day before she'll hand over that day's money! "I raised her and her brother all on my own. I gave everything I had to put her through college. How can she do this to me?" Her lawyer submits printed copies of our text conversations as proof. The judge frowns as he reads through them, then passes them to me. "Defendant, are these messages authentic?" I nod calmly. "They are." The gallery erupts in whispers, people calling me ungrateful and a terrible daughter. Then, the judge bangs his gavel and orders silence. I look at my mother's smug expression and submit my own evidence. The judge's frown deepens as he reviews it. And the moment my mother sees it, the color drains from her face.

After my sister was born, my mother's love turned into a game decided by a coin toss. Mom had a custom gold coin made: the flower side stood for my sister, and the number side stood for me. For ten years, that coin decided who got the bigger slice of cake, who got a new dress, and even who went to the doctor when we were sick. But the number side never once landed face up. I cried, because none of it was fair, and Mom just looked at me coldly and said, "Your luck is worse than hers. Who are you going to blame for that?" The day my acceptance letter from the elite prep school arrived, all I wanted was a steak cooked by Mom. So I secretly swapped in a rigged coin engraved with a number on both sides. The coin hit the floor. Mom spotted the trick at once and kicked me hard, through the doorway and into my room. "You vicious little rotten thing. Get in there and think about what you did!" She didn't know that when she kicked me across the room, my head slammed into the sharp corner of my desk. Blood flooded my vision in an instant, and the pain was so intense I couldn't make a sound. I crawled toward the half-open door in desperation. I got a hand on the panel and tried to pull myself upright to call for help, and then a dead, silent dizziness rolled over me. My legs gave out, and my body, already unconscious, pitched straight forward. The momentum of my fall yanked the wooden door shut with a bang! I lay there limp as mud, and my own weight wedged that inward-opening door shut for good. Mom's furious voice came through from the hall. "So now you've got an attitude? Slamming doors at me? Then you can starve in there! "Don't be scared, Chloe. Mommy's taking you out for a big seafood dinner." Her heels receded down the hall as warm blood spread across the floor, inch by inch. I'm sorry, Mom. In my next life, I'll win with my own luck.

In the Ferro family, every daughter received a black onyx ring before getting married. The stone was jet-black, with the Ferro family's signature F engraved in the center. My father said it wasn't jewelry. It was a Ferro family vow. As long as you wore it, the whole Ferro family would have your back, wherever marriage took you. My twin sister, Lucia Ferro, and I were getting married on the same day. But in the days leading up to the wedding, my father brought out only one velvet ring box. Lucia held out her hand in delight as our relatives raised their glasses. I stared at my bare ring finger, then turned to my mother. "Where's mine?" My mother, Margaret Ferro, avoided my eyes and pretended to study the oil painting on the wall. My brother, Victor Ferro, kept cutting his steak and didn't even look up. "Lucia's marrying into the Cassano family. She needs to walk in with some real weight behind her. We melted your ring down and added the gold to her band." My father, Robert Ferro, sipped his red wine, his tone perfectly flat. "The Cassano family has strict rules. She needs them to know the Ferro family is behind her all the way. Your fiancé, Aiden Brooks, is just an ordinary doctor who has nothing to do with the family business. You'll never need a ring like that." I stared at the harsh gleam of gold around Lucia's finger. I remembered the year I turned 18, when my father let me touch his ring for the first time. He'd looked at me and sworn that as long as my last name was Ferro, I'd always have someone in my corner. Only now did I understand that he hadn't been lying. I simply wasn't the Ferro he meant to protect.

My father, Don Vincenzo Cassano, added me to a private group chat. "La Famiglia." It was an accident. There were only three other people in it. My father. My mother. And a strange woman he had saved as "Our Treasure." They were planning a party for her. A lavish birthday party. And tomorrow? Tomorrow was my birthday. The tenth one in a row they’d forgotten. My mother’s text: "The ballroom must be draped in crystal. Make her a real princess." My father sent a wire. "Money is no object. Just don't let Aurelia find out. We don't need the drama." I screenshotted everything. A bitter sting in my chest. Fine. If they don’t love me, I'll burn their little stage to the ground. Just then, my brother Nico messaged me. The golden boy. The heir to the throne. He sent a screenshot of his own chat. Nico to Dad: "Is the 'surprise' for Aurelia ready? You promised me. This is the last time you lie to her like this."

My parents want my sister, Rachael Booth, to marry rich so badly they try to talk her into dropping out of high school during her senior year. I do everything I can to stop them. "Mom, Dad, women can take care of themselves these days. Besides, wealthy families care about education too!" They back down because of my words. But later, Rachael never marries into money. Instead, she falls for a hooligan in college and ends up in an abusive marriage. Mom screams at me, "This is all your fault, you jinx! If we hadn't listened to you, Rachael would be living the high life right now!" Dad is just as furious. "You just want to ruin her life, don't you? You just can't stand to see your sister happy!" Rachael buys into their narrative completely, genuinely believing I am the one who ruined her future. One night, she kills me with a knife. When I open my eyes, I realize I'm right back to the day Mom is trying to convince Rachael to give up on college.