Contos sobre Familial Bond e Romances com Bias e Cheating

Five years after falling into the abyss of depression, I finally felt like a human being again. I was back to talking, laughing, eating on my own, and my wife Stella Anderson and I were even expecting our second child. During our New Year's Eve family dinner, my wife’s godbrother, Lucian Smith, got trashed and started boasting through his alcohol-slurred breath. "Must’ve been five years ago." He smirked. "I was going through a brutal breakup, so I took my car out for a reckless joyride while the street cameras were down for maintenance." Lucian took a slow sip of his drink, his expression turning into a sneer. "You won't believe it. Right as I floored it, this stray cat flew right out of nowhere and slammed into my front bumper. It squealed once and bolted off into the dark." He shook his head in disgust. "Stupid animal ruined my custom wrap and scared the hell out of me. You guys better keep an eye out. Don't end up like Spencer, dragging home bad luck like a damn plague. Makes me sick just thinking about it." Lucian tossed the story out like it was nothing more than a minor, gross inconvenience. Around the table, everyone broke out in chuckles, nodding along and telling him to visit a church or grab a lucky charm so no evil spirits would haunt him. I stood there right in the middle of the noisy crowd. I looked at Lucian’s smirking face, my mother-in-law Camila Anderson's fond, doting eyes, and the tolerant, helpless smile on Stella’s face. The blood drained from my face instantly. It was as if every single one of them had forgotten. My daughter, Evelyn West, died in a hit-and-run five years ago.

Mom is diagnosed with a benign fibroid during her check-up, but somehow, she ends up getting her entire uterus removed, leading to her getting an infection and dying from it. With the surgical records in hand, I decide to sue the doctor for malpractice. But my wife, Anastasia Ziegler, who's also the director of the hospital, personally steps in to vouch for him. Enraged, I question her why. However, Anastasia just shoves me away coldly. "Your mom was already that old. What use did she have for her uterus? Louis' future is more important! Anyway, I'll waive the hospital bills. You'd better take down the court case, though. Don't embarrass me any further in the hospital." As I gaze at Mom's cold corpse, I can't help but chuckle. It turns out that Anastasia has no idea that her beloved side piece has killed off her actual mom, who had stayed widowed for many years.

My mother-in-law, Teresa Hawke, said she was trapped inside her burning villa. I called my husband, Asher Jensen, begging him to save her. But he was too busy at some bar, flirting with his childhood sweetheart, Melanie Lanner. It wasn't until I begged him, over and over, that he finally went to save Teresa. But Melanie was snatched from that same bar, tortured, killed, and dumped. He acted like none of it mattered until I got pregnant. Then out of nowhere, he threw it all back on me, saying it was my fault. Asher pulled every string he could to bankrupt my family, driving Mom and Dad to leap to their deaths. Then he rounded up a gang of violent psychopaths and threw me in with them. I begged again and again, but he just watched me with that dead stare. "You'll suffer like Mel did before she died! She left this world in agony. Why should you get to live? That's not fair." 99 stab wounds—that was how many it took before I finally bled out and died. And then, I woke up, right back on the day Teresa screamed for help from inside that burning villa.

Ten years ago, I died in a shootout. My men recovered my body. I left behind only one daughter. My husband, Colton Rinaldi, found our daughter selling cigars at the docks. Under the blazing sun, she was drenched in sweat. The wooden crates had rubbed her shoulders raw and bloody. Colton's face fell. He pulled her aside. Then he demanded, beside himself with rage, "Why are you doing hard labor here? Where is your mother? How could she dump you in a place like this? "She's so damn selfish!" Mia Rinaldi had never seen him before. She stared at him, bewildered. "Who are you? Do you want a cigar? They're cheap." Colton lifted the crate off her shoulders. The veins on the backs of his hands bulged. "Even if she's angry with me, she has no right to torment you like this. Come with me. As far as you're concerned, you don't have a mother anymore." With that, he grabbed her hand and tried to lead her away. Panicked, Mia bit his arm and glared up at him. "Don't talk about my mom like that! Who are you? Get away from me! "Let go of me!" Blood streamed down Colton's arm. Colton went livid. "What has Monica Bellini been teaching you? She's angry with me, so she taught you to be this rude? "I'm your father!" My spirit hovered beside Mia. I tried to wipe away her frightened tears. My hand passed straight through her. A bitter smile tugged at my lips. How could Colton not know? I wasn't sulking. I was dead.

After Mom left our world, Dad poured his entire fortune into researching a way to establish a link to another dimension. He bought me a caretaker robot to look after me. But Sophie, Dad’s best friend, had set it to Pet Mode. Every day, it fed me only ten pieces of cat kibble. I was so weak from hunger that I could barely speak, so I called Dad for help. But he always said, “Can’t you stop being so difficult? You useless little brat. You couldn’t even keep your mother alive!” “Didn’t I ask Sophie to check on you every day? Who taught you to lie?” I hung up in fear and curled up inside the closet. Mom’s scent still lingered there. As I lay on the brink of death, an unfamiliar voice whispered in my ear. [Would you give up your life to bring your mother back?] I nodded faintly. Yes, I would. As long as Mom and Dad could be happy, that was all I wanted.

Three years after his wife died, Simon Radcliffe went to file the school enrollment paperwork for his daughter, Poppy Radcliffe. Instead, he saw Eleanor Marlow, the wife he had buried, alive and well. She had one hand holding Poppy's and the other hooked through the arm of his brother, Jeremy Radcliffe. Simon was about to rush over and demand answers when his best friend, Kevin Sutton, held him back. "You've seen it now, Simon, so I might as well tell you. Eleanor never died. She faked her death to get away from you so she could marry Jeremy. Everyone else already knows." All of it was because Jeremy had been diagnosed with a terminal illness and wanted to know what having a real family felt like before he died. Simon's best friend had lied to him just to give Jeremy that, and his wife and daughter too. Even his own mother had sided with Jeremy, her adopted son. Simon was left with nothing but despair. If this was what they all wanted, he would give it to them and disappear from their lives for good.

Despite being a healthy werewolf, I had terrible night blindness. The moment the sun went down, I couldn't see a thing. On the night of my sister's birthday, my parents booked the best restaurant in town to celebrate. After dinner, she suddenly said she wanted to walk home. I was afraid I wouldn't be able to see the road, so I tried to turn her down. My future mate, Theodore, cut me off. He told me it was Willow's birthday and I should let her have her way. Then he promised he'd hold my hand the whole way and told me not to be scared. I finally agreed. I never noticed the knowing look Theodore and my sister exchanged. Before long, we turned into a dark alley. I could no longer see where I was going, so I clung to Theodore's sleeve, too afraid to let go. A few steps later, there was suddenly nothing beneath my foot. I lost my balance and fell straight into a creek beside the road. The next second, four phone flashlights swung onto me and the laughter broke out all at once. That was when I realized Theodore had slipped out of his jacket without me noticing. I had been holding on to an empty jacket the whole time. My parents laughed and pointed at me while Willow took pictures of me at my worst. My future mate stood beside her, holding her carefully so she wouldn't lose her balance. It was obvious now. They had used the mind-link to plan the whole prank without me knowing. At that moment, I no longer wanted to call this place home. There was no warmth here for me anyway.

When I'm eight months pregnant, my parents, who sold me off when I was a child, beg for my forgiveness and ask me to come home to await the birth of my baby. Suddenly, a gas explosion occurs. Without a moment's hesitation, Mom and Dad shove me aside and rush through the inferno. They are quick to carry my younger sister, Avril Holden, who suffers from leukemia, to safety. Only my husband, Zack Burton, charges into the flames like a madman to rescue me. He even brings in a top-tier medical team for my treatment after I'm rescued from the fire. In the end, I lose my baby, and a falling roof beam leaves me with a broken leg. As I hobble along to catch one last glimpse of my child, I see Zack outside the morgue, pulling Avril into an excited embrace. "Thank God, Avril! We can now harvest Ashley's bone marrow while she's unconscious, and you'll be cured! You'll be back to your old self in no time." I once believed Zack was my warm, reliable refuge, but it turns out it was nothing more than an illusion all along. The marriage I once took such pride in has become a bitter, freezing winter. If that's how it is, then I shall simply let go.

For his preschool career assignment, my four-year-old son, Joey Parker, writes that he wants to be a homewrecker. When I stare at him in disbelief, he defends his choice with complete confidence. "Mommy's secretary, Mr. Sebastian Hayes, is a homewrecker, and he's living a pretty great life. "Mommy buys him fancy suits that you don't have, and she always drives him to and from work without fail." Joey tilts his head and looks at me curiously. "I hear the grown-ups calling him a homewrecker all the time. So why don't you become one, too? "Besides, they say male homewreckers are super rare. And you're so amazing, Daddy! I bet you'd be the best one ever!" My face drains of color. I stand frozen, unable to utter a single word. Years ago, one comment from my wife, Amelia Brooks, about needing someone to take care of the family for me was enough to make me quit my job and become a stay-at-home dad. For years, I've swallowed my hurt and endured one humiliation after another, all because I want our son to grow up in a complete family. I've never imagined that my patience would teach him to mistake being the other man for being loved. I'm about to respond when Joey interrupts me. "Daddy, I know you and Mommy fought today because she's going out to dinner with Mr. Hayes instead of celebrating your birthday with you. "I don't like it when you and Mommy fight. So when I grow up, I'll be a homewrecker, too. Then you won't have to fight anymore." It feels as though an invisible fist closes around my heart. Rage surges through me, making the veins in my forehead throb. But the moment I meet my son's innocent gaze, the question that has tormented me for years suddenly has an answer. "Joey, being a homewrecker is wrong. If you don't like living this way, then I'll take you somewhere new. We'll find a home of our own, one without your mommy."

I'm lucky to have Maggie Lambert as my grandmother. She appears in my dreams three times. The first time, she tells me I'll win a 75-million-dollar lottery jackpot. The second time, she tells me I'll marry a gorgeous woman. She then visits me for the third time and says, "Go to the home in the south of the city and burn everything in the basement, Christian." I'm over the moon with excitement, but that day, Nathan Lister, my three-year-old son, suddenly comes down with a high fever and loses consciousness. I decide to take him to the hospital instead of following Grandma's instructions after seeing how worried my wife, Wanda Cooper, is. In that instant, my world completely collapses. I lose 75 million dollars, and the company I founded becomes my assistant Henry Johnson's conglomerate. On top of that, Wanda becomes Henry's wife. I take the matter to court and report it to the police, only to be labeled delusional—everyone looks at me like I'm insane. In the end, Henry sends me straight to a psychiatric hospital. Henry and Wanda come to visit me the last time I'm clear-headed. Wanda cuddles up to Henry in his arms and looks at me, asking, "How much longer do you think he'll live, Henry?" I don't have time to struggle before Henry pulls out my ventilator. I open my eyes again and find that I have been reborn.

I lose my memory and wander the streets, surviving on scraps and the kindness of strangers. Then, Miles Blackwood from the Institute of Medical Research finds me and takes me in. He tells me that I'm his long-lost fiancee who ran away years ago, and that he's spent every ounce of energy searching for me ever since. As I'm frail and riddled with illness, he watches over me as I take my medication every day, tracing the scar on my lower back with a strange, tender affection. But everything shatters the day I regain my memory. I accidentally overhear Miles speaking to a friend. "Miles, you forcibly removed Cassidy's kidney for Claudia back then. That was what caused her to lose her memories. And in the end, you let Claudia take all the credit for the research. "Now, after Cassidy's been suffering out there for years, you're bringing her back just to use her for the artificial kidney project? Aren't you worried that she'll regain her memories?" Miles scoffs. "She's incredibly grateful to me now. Besides, she's just a sickly woman. So what if she finds out? As long as we succeed in the research on artificial kidneys, Claudia will become the star of the medical world. As for Cassidy? She'll have made her contribution to the medical field." A cold chill rushes through me in an instant—I am Cassidy.

My husband had a bizarre obsession with role-playing. In every scenario he invented, I was always the devoted wife he eventually cast aside. One day, he became the ruthless CEO who fell for the nanny; the next, he turned into a respected professor who could not resist his students. Each time he handed me a divorce agreement, watched me sign it through tears, and then tore the papers to shreds the following morning with a satisfied grin. "It's just a game, babe." That changed when my mom was in a catastrophic car accident and needed 200,000 dollars for emergency surgery. Deep in character as a penniless failure, he said, "I'm flat broke. Where am I supposed to get that kind of money for your mom?" I watched my mother take her last breath because we couldn't pay the bill. On the day of her funeral, he arrived with a pretty college student on his arm. "I've fallen in love with one of my students. It's time we get divorced." He pulled a folder from his briefcase and handed me the agreement. This time, I didn't wait for him to rip it up.

On my wedding day, I'm up at 4:00 am, waiting for the makeup artist. By 7:00 am, no one has shown up. I start to panic and call my best friend, Whitney Adams. She bursts out laughing. "Erin, how did you miss this? They changed the plan last night. No one's coming to pick you up. Everyone went straight to the hotel." I grab my wedding dress and rush over. By the time I get there, I'm drenched in sweat. The hotel is empty. Then Whitney calls again, trying not to laugh. "I was messing with you. Don't tell me you actually went to the hotel. Destination weddings are the thing now. We moved yours to an island. Everyone's already at the airport waiting for you." So I drag my heavy garment bag from terminal to terminal, searching the entire departures hall. None of them are there. Then Whitney video-calls me, laughing so hard she's doubled over. "You took too long. We already left! There's no destination wedding. We just wanted to spend a week on the island. We'll have the wedding when we get back." She turns the camera around. My fiancé, Dwayne Brewer, is pulling her suitcase. Mom and Dad are standing behind them, smiling more brightly than they ever do in family photos. Mom frowns when she sees how pale I look. "Oh, come on. It was just a joke. Whitney knows how to have fun. You've always taken everything too seriously." Dwayne drapes his jacket over Whitney's shoulders, then looks into the camera. "Go home and wait for me. I'll marry you when we get back." I look at all their smiling faces on the screen and suddenly don't see the point in confronting them. I'm not angry or sad anymore. I just feel numb. I text the wedding planner and cancel the wedding. They can keep playing their little game. I'm done being part of it.

To save my daughter, I collected 50,000 plastic bottles. Day after day, I dug through trash, carried them home, and traded them for scraps of hope. However, when I finally hauled them all to the recycling center, I learned their selling price had dropped. The 50,000 bottles were worth only enough to buy my daughter a better urn. Desperate, I held my feverish daughter in my arms as she suffered a seizure. I called my actress wife for help. Her answer was ice-cold. “$5,000 for a fever? Do you think I’m some kind of charity?” The irony was that she had spent $50 million building a private hospital for her screen partner’s dog just hours earlier.

My mother had been hospitalized. My boyfriend worked as a doctor at the same hospital. You would think he would have visited her often, but he never did. Not once. On the first day of her stay, he did not come because he had taken a day off. His childhood friend was moving, and she needed his help. On the second day, that same childhood friend appeared at the hospital as an intern. He followed her everywhere and showed her the ropes. He handled anything she asked for, no matter how small. It went on like that, day after day. My mother's ward was on the thirteenth floor. His office was on the seventeenth. All it would have taken was a ten-second elevator ride or a two-minute walk down the stairs. Even so, Sebastian did not visit her for more than twenty days. My mother recovered. I picked her up by myself and took her to the train station. While I was on the way, he texted me. Sebastian: [Suzy's pet dog is getting vaccinated today. I need to drive her there first.] This time, I replied. [Got it. Drive safely. By the way, we're over.]

I had everything planned a month in advance for our holiday. I was going to take my wife and daughter on a trip to see the country's beautiful landscapes, but just before we were supposed to leave, they both disappeared. I ended up standing alone in the pouring rain, trying to call them. My daughter's voice came through over the phone—it was cold and impatient. "Mommy's having dinner with Uncle Skyler. We don't want to go anymore." Right after that, the call was cut off. I had been blocked. They locked me out of the house on purpose and left me to freeze out there all night. The rain had already drenched me, and I was running a high fever that turned into pneumonia. Meanwhile, the two of them were off enjoying a vacation with Skyler Shire. That was the moment I knew—this marriage was well and truly over.

Everyone in Crowglade knows that my wife, Sophia Tuson, treats me and my son, Ashton Yates, as the apples of her eye. When I want to stargaze, she spends 100 million dollars to create an extravagant meteor shower for me. Ashton loves carousels, so she builds the biggest amusement park in the city and names it after him. She has never been stingy when it comes to showering us with love. When Ashton and I get into a car accident, Sophia hires a renowned medical team to save my life. Mustering what little strength I have left, I tell her to save Ashton first. Sophia's voice is thick with tears when she tells me that Ashton has already died of excessive bleeding on the way to the hospital. Overwhelmed by grief, I can't hold on anymore and faint. When I regain consciousness, I hear Sophia speaking with the doctor outside the door. "Mr. Ashton could have been saved, Ms. Tuson. Why did you just watch your son die without lifting a single finger to help him?" "The purpose of Ashton's existence is to save Harold's and my child," Sophia says nonchalantly. "I can't openly remove his heart and give it to Micah if he doesn't die. I've treated Gabriel and Ashton very well in the past few years. Now, it's their turn to repay me." It turns out that Sophia only treated me and Ashton so well because she wanted Ashton's heart in exchange for her kindness. She's the one who orchestrated the tragedy that befell us. If that's the case, I will grant her wish.

My daughter, Amelia Rossum, comes home with her palm pierced all the way through by a pencil. I drop my mop in a panic, hastily change out of my loungewear, and rush her to the ER. At the hospital entrance, my husband, Benedict Rossum, jumps out of his car and immediately lashes out at me. "How could you let this happen to her?" Our neighbor, Lorelei Bates, trails behind him, holding her daughter's hand. She addresses him gently, "Benedict, don't be so hard on Clarissa. Everyone makes mistakes." He scoffs. "Other mothers can keep their kids safe perfectly fine. What's her excuse? I bet she did this on purpose to guilt me into coming home early!" Amelia recoils and hides behind me. Seeing her reaction, Benedict crouches down and immediately softens his voice. "Don't be scared, Amelia. I'm right here. You can tell me what happened. I'll make it right." "Really?" She steals anxious glances at me. I shake my head, silently telling her not to say anything. With Lorelei standing right there, we don't stand a chance. She always finds a way to twist the truth against us. Benedict shoves me aside and picks Amelia up. "Clarissa, are you trying to scare her into keeping quiet? What kind of mother are you? What, did you stab her hand on purpose, too?" "No, it wasn't Mommy!" Amelia bursts into sobs. Benedict gently pats her back, his eyes reddening with distress. "It must hurt a lot, doesn't it, Amelia? Tell me what happened to your hand." She's sobbing so hard that she can barely catch her breath. After a long while, she finally points at Lorelei's daughter and says in between sobs, "Penelope and her friends stabbed me."

Jethro Miles was an orphan sponsored by my dad. The moment I laid eyes on him, I flipped. Despite my family's objections, we dated for seven years, even as my dad threatened to disown me. Eventually, my dad relented and consented to our marriage. But as we exchanged rings, a young woman in a white dress burst into the venue, staring at Jethro with tears in her eyes. He chased after her, abandoning our wedding. Later, I learned that the woman was his childhood friend from the orphanage. Jethro desperately tried to explain, "Nancy grew up with me. She is like a sister to me. She's been through abuse and divorce. Please, give me time to help her, okay?" Tears blurred my vision as I watched him plead so fervently, my heart plummeting into despair. I managed, "Okay." Jethro took care of Nancy and her son as if they were his real family. What he didn't know were the two secrets I'd kept from him when my dad finally agreed to our marriage: I was pregnant, and I was dying.

I was a real estate agent. My mother, Jenna Bennett, approached me privately and asked me to sell her property. "Your dad is having a hard time with his business. I want to help him out." The property had been left to Mom by my grandmother, Renna Patterson, so she'd always have a small refuge of her own, a place where she could feel safe and secure. Now, for my father's sake, Mom was selling that refuge at a bargain price. It didn't take long for a buyer to contact me. The woman asked, "Hi, could you hold the property for me until next week? I'd like my partner to give it to me for my birthday." I caught sight of a photo of her and her "partner" on her phone screen, and froze. It was Dad. I smiled and nodded at the woman. "Of course. I look forward to seeing your partner next week."