قصص وروايات قصيرة عن Familial Bond وتضم Bias وتدور في Countdown

After our parents ended their marriage, my sister and I became the children they passed back and forth between two packs. Every August, the leaders of the two packs sat down to decide where we would live for the coming year. Both our names were on the agreement, but there was only one daughter they ever fought to keep: my younger sister, Lena. Mom wanted to take her to the coast for the winter. Dad had already promised to spend the next full-moon celebration with her. In the end, they agreed to go together so Lena wouldn’t have to choose. When it was my turn, Mom suggested a school dorm. Dad reminded her that I wasn’t his responsibility that year. Neither of them asked where I wanted to go. For years, I tried to be the easy daughter. I carried messages between them, broke up their fights, and made excuses every time they failed to show. They still missed my competitions, my awards ceremony, and my graduation. They didn’t even finish reading the college acceptance letter I sent them. So I stopped waiting. I accepted a full scholarship three thousand miles away, filed the paperwork to leave my mother’s pack, and bought a one-way ticket. By the time my parents sat down for our yearly handoff lunch and finally wondered where I was, I had already gone beyond their reach.

My parents were set up in Harbor City. They not only lost their entire fortune but were also left with a mountain of debt. They changed out of their usual polished shirts and dresses, their faces filled with worry. "Millie, which one of us do you want to stay with while we pay off our debts?" In my first life, I felt sorry for my father because he had trouble walking, so I accompanied him to work at a construction site. However, when a steel beam came crashing down, he shoved me away and shielded my adopted sister beneath him. The beam crushed my skull, and I died on the spot. In my second life, I chose my frail mother. I worked five jobs a day to care for her and desperately earn money to repay our debts. However, my mother gave every cent I earned to my adopted sister and sent her on a trip around the world. I was in the final stage of leukemia and could not afford my medication. In the end, I died in agony inside a basement rental apartment. This time, I hesitated as I faced my parents’ expectant gazes. I had just stepped out of the room when I heard the disappointment in my father’s voice. "Millie has really been spoiled rotten. We only tested her on a whim, yet we immediately exposed her true nature." My adopted sister, Lily Brooks, had just been accepted into a psychology program. She sighed. "Psychology says that only children who grow up pampered tend to become cold and self-centered. They have to experience some hardship before they can learn their lesson." My mother showered her with praise. "Lily, your idea of pretending to be bankrupt was brilliant. We can’t tell Millie the truth until we completely cure her spoiled, vain habits and turn her into the person we want her to be." My entire body trembled violently. The suffering I had endured in two lifetimes had only been a lesson meant to teach me obedience. Just as my heart sank into despair, the system I had not heard from in so long came back online. [The host’s emotional distress has reached a critical level. Would you like to prepare to leave this world?]

When my parents divorced, their lawyers drafted a custody agreement. My sister and I would live with separate parents, then switch homes at the start of every school year. The handoff happened every August at La Serata, the Moretti family's restaurant. Every year, my parents fought over who got more time with Sofia. "Come to St. Barts with me for Thanksgiving," Mom coaxed. Dad's face hardened. "Sofia is with me this year. She spends the holidays with me." Mom pulled up her calendar. "You dumped her on me for nineteen extra days last year. I get those days back. Every single one." "Two of those days were school overnights. They don't count." Sofia rested her chin on one hand and gave them the helpless smile of a princess burdened by too much devotion. "If only there were two of me." Half an hour later, my parents compromised by booking the trip together. Only then did Sofia glance my way. "What about Emilia?" Dad picked up his water and looked past me. "She's not my responsibility this year." Mom finally met my eyes. "The hotel group closes an acquisition next month. I don't have time for this. St. Gabriel still has rooms in the senior dorm. You'll board there." They had just counted every hour Sofia had spent away from them. When it came to me, they could hand off an entire year without blinking. Under the table, I smoothed the napkin I had crushed in my fist. My phone lit up. [Ms. Harper: Your record puts several top East Coast schools within reach. Westbridge Institute's research scholarship would also be a great fit. Which one is your first choice?] I looked at California on the other side of the map and typed my answer. [Westbridge.] Three thousand miles ought to be far enough to leave my family for good.

The day I married Santino Connor, he went from the infamous heir of a mafia fortune to a broke nobody. When he handed me a plastic ring in a shabby basement and asked if I would start from scratch with him, I looked at the man I had loved since I was a girl and nodded without a second thought. "Santino, as long as it was with you, I would do anything." For him, I worked more than ten hours a day until my stomach bled from the stress. Our son, from the moment he could walk, trailed me from one odd job to the next. I thought my love could eventually build us a life in the sun. Until, at a lavish banquet where I was serving the elite, he showered me with cash from his seat at the head of the table. "What's that thing crawling on the floor? It's blocking my view!" "Take the money and get out of my sight!" When I saw the woman by his side, her face an eerie copy of my own, I finally understood. To him, this was just a game, and I was the only one playing for keeps. If he was going to go to such lengths to deceive me, then it was time for his game to end. What he didn't know was that one month later, he would be tearing the world apart to find me.

On my sixth birthday, my older sister, Bettina Moretti, gives me a cake with a message written in frosting. It reads, "Happy Sixth Anniversary of the Day We Found You!" I burst into tears and run to my parents, desperate to know if it's true. My father, Vittorio Moretti, nods. "That's right. If your sister hadn't begged us to take you home, you probably would've frozen to death next to a dumpster." My mother, Elisabetta Russo, pats me on the head. "Your sister saved your life, Alessia Moretti. You owe her a debt you'll never be able to repay. Don't forget that." From that day on, Bettina always comes first. When she refuses to go through the family's grueling advanced combat training, I take her place without hesitation. Even when my ribs get broken, I don't dare complain. I don't want my family to think I'm a burden. But no matter how much I sacrifice, even when I put my life on the line, my parents only ever praise Bettina. "She's the pride and joy of the Moretti family!" Then, this Christmas, I come home to the estate early and find Bettina doubled over with laughter in our aunt, Giulia Moretti's arms. "Seriously, is Alessia an idiot? She actually thinks she's adopted! I made that up when we were kids, and she's believed it all these years!" Giulia stares at her in disbelief. "Wait, you never told her you were joking?" My father scoffs. "Why would we? It's just a harmless joke." My mother chimes in. "Exactly. Besides, if Alessia finds out she's our biological daughter and Bettina's the one we adopted, what if she starts picking on Bettina?" A sharp pain shoots through my chest. I clutch at it as my legs give out beneath me. For years, I've kept quiet about how sick I am, forcing myself to endure the pain because I'm terrified of being a burden to my family. Two days ago, I finally saved up enough money to see a doctor. But he told me I've waited too long to get treatment. I have only five days left to live. Suddenly, I taste blood in the back of my throat. "Papa, Mamma... if I die, you won't have to worry about me bullying Bettina anymore, will you?"

I used to be the beloved little princess of the Colobo family. Then, on my eighteenth birthday, my father brought home Sophia. She was the daughter of the old friend who had once saved his life. Out of guilt, he gave her a place in our home. Then he gave her my place too. My brother began protecting her and hating me. My childhood friend, Luca Rizzo, fell for her and left me behind. Even my father said Sophia deserved the Colobo name more than I did, though I was his biological daughter. On the day I graduated from college, they broke their promise to me for the ninety-ninth time because of her. I finally lost control. “Am I not your own daughter?” My father pulled Sophia behind him as if I were the danger, then slapped me across the face. “You jealous little thing. I should have given everything to her instead.” My brother looked at me like I was something dirty. “You don’t deserve a place in the Colobo family. Get out.” So I left. They thought I was only throwing another tantrum. They took Sophia to Switzerland to see the snow-covered mountains, certain that silence would teach me to behave. They thought I would calm down, come home, and beg for my place again. But this time, I called the research institute in Australia whose offer I had once turned down for them. “I accept,” I said. By the time the Colobo family realized I was truly gone, my phone number no longer existed. And so did Isabella Colobo.

In my third year after joining the werewolf guard, I single-handedly cut off the rogues' supply line during a raid. For my actions, the chairman of the werewolf council awarded me a Silver Moon Insignia and granted me the right to live in a four-bedroom penthouse apartment at Moonshadow Estate. Mom once told me that if we ever moved into a bigger home, she would give me a bedroom that belonged to me alone. On the night all the furniture was moved in, I searched every one of the four bedrooms, but there wasn't the slightest trace of me in any of them. The master bedroom belonged to my parents. My older sister, Kalista, had taken the sunniest south-facing suite. My younger brother, Keane, had a room filled with newly purchased combat manuals and an entire wall of cabinets for his hunting boots. The remaining bedroom had been turned into Kalista's walk-in closet, and all my luggage had been piled outside the bathroom. I asked Mom, "Where am I supposed to sleep?" She froze for a moment before pointing at the brand-new sofa in the living room. "You're usually out on night patrol and hardly ever come home. If you occasionally stay the night, isn't the sofa good enough?" Dad frowned as well. "Family members should be considerate of one another. Although the pack rewarded you with this apartment, it belongs to the whole family too. Be generous. Don't start fighting over rooms the moment we move in." I lowered my head and looked at the insignia in my hand. Suddenly, I laughed. So the large home I had risked my life to earn had room for Kalista's clothes, Keane's equipment, and my parents' pride. But somehow, there was no room for me. That night, I received an encrypted message from the captain of the guard. [Outpost 3 on the northern frontier urgently needs a werewolf guard willing to serve there long-term. The assignment involves three years of closed rotation under harsh conditions, but each guard will be provided with private quarters.] I looked up at the four closed doors and quietly typed two words in reply. [I'm going.] If there was no place for me here, then I would go somewhere that had reserved a place for me.

When I was three years old, during a car accident, I was struck in the head by a car while trying to protect Mom. After that, the doctors said something inside my head had broken, and I'd never be quite right. Everyone back home called me the slow one. Late at night, I'd see her crying alone. On my seventh birthday, Mom took me to Manhattan, and that was when I discovered that she had a second home and another daughter, Charlotte. In front of strangers, she wouldn't claim me. She only let me call her Miss Eleanor. On the third night, She sat down at her vanity. On the table was a small black box. I thought it was a present. She opened the box and took out a black silicone bracelet, with a little light embedded in the clasp—small, dark, switched off. "This is called a TruthBand. It's something a company in California makes. The light turns green when you tell the truth, and red when you lie. If you wear this, Mommy will always know." She fastened it around my wrist. Tight. The little light blinked green. I thought that if I was good enough, she would love me the way she loved my sister. But then she made me do ski practice with Charlotte. Charlotte was a junior champion. "You're both my daughters. I don't play favorites. Whoever falls, gets punished." Charlotte never fell. I couldn't even keep my skis straight. Every single run, I was the one Mama dragged off the mountain and locked in the cellar. On Thanksgiving Day, Mama spent the whole afternoon cooking. I wanted to help. I dropped a bowl. She closed her eyes. When she opened them, they were red. She grabbed a little pill bottle off the counter, tipped my chin up, and forced something between my teeth. "Dumb as a rat. Are you happy now? Did you finally embarrass me enough? " I lay on the kitchen floor, gasping. While she wasn't looking, I scraped up three little pink pellets that had spilled and tucked them into my fist. Mommy, I told myself, I'll be good now, and then you'll be happy. Right?

The day I get accepted into Westbridge University at 18 years old, my oldest sister, Claire Whitmore, secretly hides my acceptance letter. Why? Because she's finally found Ethan Whitmore, my twin brother who was separated from our family years ago. Heartbroken over everything he's supposedly suffered, Claire decides I owe him compensation and demands that I give him my place at Westbridge University. Of course I refuse. Claire slaps me across the face. "You've had everything handed to you your whole life! Is it really so much to ask you to give your brother this one thing?" Even Grace Bennett, the woman I've loved for three years, chooses Ethan over me. "I can't stand petty, selfish men. So what if you're smarter than him? Ethan has more character than you ever will." I'm devastated. Then, Ethan frames me for something I didn't do, and Claire sends me away to an isolated town in the middle of nowhere. Three years later, Ethan gets engaged to Grace, and their extravagant engagement celebration becomes the talk of the city. Only then does Claire finally remember I exist. "It's been three years. Surely you've learned how to get along with Ethan by now." She looks pleased when I lower my head obediently before her. What she doesn't know is that those three years in the countryside have destroyed my health. And I only have three days left to live.

My husband, Severo Falcone, is the Don who rules Sicara's criminal underworld. His days are filled with high-stakes negotiations and bloody turf wars. So, over the years, I've grown accustomed to his absence from our lives. On our wedding anniversary, he was negotiating by the docks. When our daughter, Lucia Falcone, attended her first family gathering, he was called away to deal with a territorial dispute. Even on Lucia's fifth birthday, all he offers is a promise over the phone. "Something's come up tonight. I'll make it up to her when I'm done." I think nothing of it. Then, half an hour later, Ylenia Bianchi sends me a photo. At a private clinic, Severo is sitting by her bed, personally tending to her wounds. The message attached to her photo is just as brazen. "Whenever I need him, he will always show up." In that moment, everything falls into place. I've always believed the family business was keeping him away from us. Turns out, he's been spending that time with her all along. He isn't too busy. He simply prioritizes Ylenia over his own wife and daughter every single time. Holding back tears, I turn to Lucia after she blows out her birthday candles. "What did you wish for, Lucia?" Lucia flashes me a sweet, innocent smile. "I wish for the two of us to stay together forever! I want you to be happy every day, Mamma. I hope you can go wherever you want and do whatever you want!" I smile and kiss her forehead. "I'll make sure your wish comes true." That very night, I book two plane tickets to leave Sicara in seven days.

Seven years ago, the Vitale family and the Alberti family forged an alliance through marriage. But on the day of the wedding, my older sister ran away with a cobbler. To keep the two families from turning on each other then and there, my father disowned her on the spot. Then he shoved me, still dressed in my bridesmaid gown, into the dressing room. Half an hour later, I walked out in my sister’s wedding dress and married Jonathan Alberti, the Alberti family heir, a man notorious throughout Sicily for his ruthlessness from a young age. And yet, in the seven years that followed, he never treated me badly. Whenever I got myself into trouble, he cleaned up the mess. Once, someone mocked me at a party for being the bride who had taken my sister’s place. The next day, that man’s body was found floating in the Mediterranean. I thought seven years was long enough for a man to forget the woman he had once intended to marry. Little by little, I fell for him too. Until the day my sister appeared at the gates of the estate, disheveled and desperate, with a six-year-old boy beside her. “My husband is dead. I…” She never even had to finish asking. All the resentment Jonathan had carried over her running away vanished with a few tears. That very night, my sister and her son moved into the estate. Jonathan stood outside her door, watching her. And from the turn of the staircase, I stood watching him. I gave a bitter smile and made a phone call. Now that my sister was back, it was time for the stand-in bride to step aside.

On the eve of the full moon ritual, my younger sister, Sierra, called me. She was sobbing so hard she could barely breathe. "Selena! Mom was badly injured by a silver weapon. The healer says she has at most two hours left–" I dropped the pack's winter supply contract, which I was about to finalize, and took a shortcut through the dangerous Black Woods alone. But when I finally arrived home, frantic with worry, I found my entire family gathered around a bonfire in the garden. They were roasting meat and laughing together. Sierra, who had nearly cried herself breathless over the phone, was laughing the loudest. "Fifty-six minutes! I win! The moonstone is mine!" Mom lovingly fastened the moonstone necklace around Sierra's neck. Her face was full of affection. "You little troublemaker. You win every single bet." Dad waved at me with a grin. "Come eat! The meat's about to burn. Honestly, you're always taking pranks too seriously. We scare you a little, and you fall for it every time. Sierra won another bet." I froze before instinctively turning to look at my future mate. He was holding a piece of roasted beef close to Sierra's mouth. When he noticed me looking, he shrugged helplessly. "Don't look at me. If I'd given you a heads-up, it would've ruined the fun. "Sierra has always been frail. This is one of her few hobbies. As her future brother-in-law, of course I have to play along." The garden was filled with laughter and cheerful chatter. Everyone looked perfectly happy. Suddenly, I felt exhausted. In the past, I might have demanded an explanation, but now, I didn't want to say a word. Two years ago, they'd lied and told me Dad had been attacked by a pack of rogues. I abandoned a contract I'd spent two years pursuing. Last year, they tricked me into believing my grandfather had fallen off a cliff. I missed my chance to be promoted to merchant team leader. Every single prank involved gambling with my life. I retrieved my phone and found the offer email I'd rejected three times before. [Would you be willing to join Thorn Pack for a ten-year merchant team placement partnership?] This time, I accepted the offer.

The day my parents divorced, I turned my back on the mother who loved me and clung desperately to my cheating father. In my previous life, I chose my mother without hesitation. Because the family never accepted me, she spent the rest of her life suffering for my sake, enduring endless scorn and hardship. This time, as I looked into her heartbroken eyes, I walked away without a backward glance. Five years later, I was scraping by at a seafood market, spending my days gutting fish amid the stench of saltwater and blood. Just as I expertly sliced open a fish's belly, my mother appeared. Her heels clicked across the damp floor as she navigated around puddles left by melting ice and approached me. She covered her nose in disgust, looked me up and down in my stained, shabby clothes, and let out a cold laugh. "No matter how hard you wash, you still reek of fish. This is the life you chose when you picked him over me. “The Cooper family's notorious young heir is about to form an alliance with our family through marriage. “As long as you kneel and beg me, I'll give you a chance to live a better life. What do you think? “You know I always mean what I say.” The contempt in her voice was unmistakable. I swallowed the metallic taste rising in my throat, flashed a carefree grin, and stepped closer. “Not only am I not kneeling, but you’ll have to kiss me first if you want me to go.” Just one kiss would be enough to get me through the last month of my life.

After his older brother died, my husband, Theodore Ricci, brought his brother's widow, Brynn, and her daughter, Amy, into the Ricci family home. He kept them close and saw to their every need. The tenth time Theodore left our daughter, Lucia Ricci, and me for Brynn and Amy, I started teaching Lucia not to depend on him. I told her to call him Don Ricci. We were on our way to the amusement park when Brynn called to say Amy had had a nightmare, and Theodore left us. I pulled our daughter into my arms, her eyes red from crying, and did my best to comfort her. We got caught in the crossfire between rival families. Theodore ignored our daughter's cries for help and ran to protect Amy. Dragging my injured leg, I carried Lucia on my back all the way to the hospital. "It's okay," I told her. "Even if Don Ricci isn't here, Mommy will always protect you." When Theodore realized our daughter was pulling away from him, he tried to make it up to her. He went all out planning her birthday party and promised that at the celebration, he'd announce she would one day be the Ricci family's heir. But just as the party was about to start, Brynn called again. "Theodore, some kid pushed Amy down, and she's crying for you!" Theodore looked at me, torn. Before I could speak, our daughter waved at him. "It's okay, Don Ricci. Go do what you need to do. I have Mommy with me." That was when I understood. Our daughter no longer needed him either. He was a father in name only.

Nine months ago, my younger sister Bianca and I were kidnapped at the Chicago docks. She saved me from an attacker. But when she woke in the hospital, she couldn't remember who she was. Instead, she believed my fiancé, Adrian De Luca, was the man she loved. My family begged me to play along until she recovered. “It's only an act,” Adrian promised. “Once she's better, everything goes back to normal.” Because Bianca had saved my life, I agreed. Then our engagement trip to Sicily became her recovery trip with Adrian. She moved into the lakefront safe house Adrian and I had chosen for our marriage. My fingerprint access was erased, our bedroom was redecorated for her, and my clothes disappeared from the closet. Everyone made the same promise: once Bianca’s memory returned, they would give back everything that belonged to me. Nine months later, she walked down the aisle at the Blackstone Hotel in the ivory wedding gown made for me. Adrian stood waiting at the altar, and the De Luca family crest bracelet he had given me was fastened around her wrist. My mother leaned close. “It’s only a wedding staged for her treatment. Don’t make a scene.” I looked at the bracelet. Someone had resized it to fit Bianca perfectly. That was when I understood. No one intended to give me my life back. I didn’t argue or cry. I opened the London partnership offer I had rejected nine times and accepted it. My flight left in four days. This time, they would learn how to live without me.

When I was eight, my sister Serena told me that I was a stray wolf my father had picked up off the street. Crying, I ran to ask my parents if it was true. My Alpha father fell silent for a moment but didn't deny it. My Luna mother stroked my head and said, "Then you need to be a good girl and stop causing trouble for this family." From that day on, I never fought Serena for anything again. I gave her whatever she wanted and cleaned up every mess she made. During training, I never dared complain about being tired. Even when I was sick, I refused to trouble anyone. I thought that if I became strong enough and obedient enough, the Pack would finally let me stay. Until fifteen years later, when I graduated from the training center, I decided to surprise everyone by coming home early without telling them. As I approached the front door, I heard Serena laughing about what had happened all those years ago. "I was just messing with her back then. Who knew she'd actually believe me?" My mother laughed along. "Well, she certainly became a lot easier to deal with after that." My fiancé, Adrian, sounded concerned. "That was a long time ago. You shouldn't tell her now." I froze outside the door, unable to process what I'd just heard. So my fifteen years of walking on eggshells had all been nothing more than a joke to them. I pulled out my phone and immediately signed the five-year Northern Territory transfer contract I'd been offered. Then I submitted an application to cancel my mating ceremony with Adrian. If they had all spent fifteen years telling me I was a stray wolf who didn't belong to the Silvermoon Pack, then I'd give them exactly what they wanted. I'd disappear from their lives for good.

The nurse looks at me with sympathy as she moves the IV cannula from the back of my hand. "Ms. Charlotte Norton, Mr. Norton had the donor heart matched to you reassigned at the last minute. He says it's being sent to the special care unit on the seventh floor. What a shame—all your preoperative preparations have gone to waste." Valerie Hickman—the frail young woman my older brother, Reese Norton, brings home—is staying on the seventh floor. Just ten minutes earlier, Valerie suffers a sudden angina attack. My usually strong-willed mother, Winifred Baldwin, is so frantic that she breaks down in tears. My usually taciturn father, Elijah Norton, slams his hand on the table in front of the entire team of hospital specialists. He then gives Valerie the life-saving heart I've waited three whole years for—the very heart that is supposed to be delivered to my operating room. Clutching my aching chest, I lean against the cold wall and slowly slide to the floor. There's no point waiting anymore. My severe heart failure has reached its final stage, and my doctor, Jamie Hall, says I have only a few days left. I don't know how long passed before that mechanical voice sounds in my head again. "Charlotte, your vital signs are deteriorating rapidly. If you choose to terminate this body and leave this world right now, you still have a chance to start a new one. Do you confirm?" I watch as my fingertips slowly turn a deathly shade of blue and purple. "I do."

I have been able to smell people's emotions since I was a child. Love is sweet, and sadness is bitter. After being with Dante for ten years, the scent on him had always been sweet. Until last month, when my sister Sofia agreed to the arranged marriage with the Colombo family. In that very moment, the scent on him abruptly turned bitter. That night, I heard their suppressed voices: "Sofia, you clearly love me too, so why are you marrying that useless man?" My sister cried back at him: "You are Gia's fiancé, and she is my sister. We cannot continue this mistake." Only then did I realize the truth. My fiancé had been in love with my sister all along. I canceled the engagement party and booked a flight to Sicily in three days. But why was it that only after I left did they both go mad with regret?

My mother, Elena, was a System host. After completing her mission, she left this world, leaving me in the care of my four adoptive fathers in the mafia. Dad Theodore was the cold-blooded Don of the Family, the man who ruled this city's underworld. Dad Harrison was a movie star, the darling of the red carpet. Dad Gabriel was a top surgeon in the underground medical network; his hands could save a life as easily as they could take one. And Dad Zane was a ruthless mercenary leader. For sixteen years, these four fathers spoiled me like the Family's one and only princess. If I wanted the moon, they would have found a way to pluck it from the sky. That was, until three years ago, when Zoe, the daughter of their first love, was brought back from Sicily. From that day on, my four fathers believed only her, never me. Zoe framed me, claiming I'd mocked her for looking like a street rat, so my fathers kicked me out of the princess suite and threw me into a storage room by the garage. Zoe showed them fake bruises on her arms, so my adoptive fathers smashed my phone, cut off all my social connections, and put me under house arrest for three months. Zoe cried again, claiming I'd hired thugs to harass her, so Dad Zane dragged me straight to the Family's dungeon beneath the estate. They starved me for three days and three nights, saying it was to teach me "some manners." I leaned against the dark, damp wall, my vision fading to black in waves. Just as I was about to pass out, I heard someone call my name. "Hazel, do you want to go to your mother?"

The ninety-ninth thing my adopted sister Isabella took from me was a grave in the sun. I had already paid the deposit, but the cemetery didn’t dare sell the plot to me. Because the Moretti family’s principessa wanted that plot for her dead dog. But I loved that spot. So I called my mother, the Donna of the Moretti family. Her voice cooled the moment I mentioned the grave： “Adriana, are you still pretending you have gastric cancer?” “Isabella just lost her dog. She’s suffered enough. Stop trying to take something else from her.” My father rejected my call. My brother, Luca, answered while helping Isabella choose the dog’s headstone. “Stop buying graves to frighten us. Why are you always so petty? Can't you stand to see your sister have anything good?” I looked at the oncologist’s report in my hand. Seven days. Maybe less. So even when I was truly dying, no one believed me. I chose the only plot left at the edge of the cemetery, where sunlight never reached, and signed the contract. Then I blocked my family one by one. They were right. I needed to stop begging them to care and remove myself from their lives for good. Seven days later, I died alone. That was when the Morettis finally believed me. And lost their minds with regret.