Familial Bond Short Stories & Bias Face Slapping Novels

I had spent fifteen years in Rathai’s jade trade. Tonight was another routine trip to a private auction to pick up stock. On the outside, these auctions moved jade, but behind closed doors, they sometimes moved people. I had just walked into the back when I spotted a teenager huddled in the corner, covered head to toe in bruises and welts. He looked up at me with desperate eyes. A second later, lines of text floated across my vision. [This is Arden Carlisle, the fake son of the Carlisle family in Harstead!] [The real Carlisle son framed him, and his own sister shipped him out here to 'teach him a lesson'.] [It's awful. He's been shocked, whipped, and beaten. Now, they're about to strip him and put him on the block.] [The real Carlisle son and his people are in the auction hall right now, waiting to watch him get humiliated.] I lived by one simple rule. If it was not my problem, I would not get involved. I turned to leave. However, another line then appeared. [Oh my God! The jade dealer is his biological father!]

My husband, Nathan Carter, had taken an interest in a young woman he'd been sponsoring through school. He hired her as our housekeeper with a generous salary. From that day on, my monthly allowance dropped from 120,000 dollars to just 120 dollars. She had to approve every expense for our household of more than a dozen people. Even the cook couldn't buy an extra bag of salt without getting her permission first. Furious, I went to Nathan to complain. He only smiled, looking completely unconcerned. "I like how careful she is with money. Don't you think it's cute?" Later, Nathan's mother accidentally fell from an upstairs balcony. She needed emergency surgery that would cost 30,000 dollars. I immediately called Nathan. "Your mom fell from upstairs. She needs surgery, and it costs 30,000. Hurry and have someone bring the money to the hospital." A mocking laugh came from the other end of the line. It wasn't Nathan. "A fall like that would only cause a few broken bones. Why would it cost 30,000? Ms. Smith has always been reckless with money. She has no idea how hard Mr. Carter works to earn it. If you won't help him save money, I will!"

After being missing for eighteen years, I was finally found by my wealthy birth parents. The impostor—the young man who had taken my place all this time—dropped to his knees, sobbing. "Goodbye, Mom and Dad. Thank you for raising me. Now that Jason is back, this family doesn't need me anymore." My parents hugged him with heartbreaking tenderness. "Don't be ridiculous," they said. "You're our only real son." Even my fiancée confessed her love to him. "I don't care who you really are. You're the only one I love." They all orbited around him, like planets around the sun. When I was nearly killed in a car accident, they were too busy throwing a birthday party for his dog. So I packed my things in silence. Without a word, I accepted an invitation from the space agency to join a five-year satellite research mission in complete isolation. Yet after I left, it was like the whole family lost their minds. They scoured the entire country, desperate to find any trace of me.

I head home for Thanksgiving, only to find my room stacked with old clothes. Mom walks in, beaming. "Stunned, sweetie? Your Aunt Ashlyn brought all this over just for you. Now be a dear and write up your cousin's homework." It's always this. Last year, Aunt Sofia handed down a box of moldy shoes, and Mom made me coordinate her son's entire wedding in return. I slaved away for over a month without earning a single cent, only to be asked to pay a hefty gift sum on top of that. "Mom, I actually have work to do…" "It's the holidays, sweetie. Family comes first." She points at the wardrobe full of clothes. "Look how nice these are. You won't need to buy clothes for years. Think of all the money you'll save." I laugh. I pull out a top. It's full of holes. She says a quick stitch will fix it right up. I pull out another. It's stained yellow. She says a little bleach will take it right out. "Great," I say. "You wear them, then." I turn on my heel, only to spot Aunt Ashlyn wearing my brand-new wool coat. She offers a smile. "Selena, this coat is really nice, but it's way too big. Help me exchange it for a smaller size, will you?" My heart sinks. "I bought that for myself." Aunt Ashlyn freezes. Mom grabs my wrist hard and says, "Hey, Aunt Ashlyn gives you all those wonderful gifts, and you can't even offer a simple courtesy in return?" Gifts… I turn to look at my bedroom, which resembles a junkyard. I really shouldn't have come back.

I loved eating cakes. My dad would bring me one every day after work, and my mom bought a full set of oven and baking tools, patiently learning how to bake them for me. I once thought I was the happiest little princess in the world until the day my parents divorced. The person who came to pick up my dad turned out to be the bakery owner. My mom turned to me, growling, "This is all your fault! If you hadn't asked for cakes every day, your dad never would've cheated!" She stretched out her hands, covered in burn scars, and screamed hysterically, "I slaved away making cakes for you, and these hands have never healed since. What did you do? You both think the stuff from outside is so much better!" She grabbed a baking sheet and smacked me hard with it. I bit my lip, not daring to make a sound. That night, she brought home a little girl. Ignoring the pain all over my body, I begged for her forgiveness. "Mom, I'm sorry. Please don't throw me away. I swear I'll never eat another cake!" She slapped me across the face, but that wasn't enough to quench her anger. She tossed me into the big oven. "I'm not your mom! You love cakes so much? Stay in there and reflect on what you've done! You and your worthless dad both deserve to die!" After she slammed the door and stormed out, the little girl skipped over to the oven, grinning smugly as she hit the switch. "From now on, your mom is gonna be mine!" The oven kicked on, and the temperature began to rise. I smiled bitterly. At least this way, my mom could finally be happy.

My father is one of the wealthiest men in the country, a name everyone knows but almost never sees. My mother is the devoted wife standing behind him, the one who actually raises me. She always tells me my father looks down on us for being country people, that he calls us ungrateful dogs who can never be won over no matter how well they're fed. He sends me only 200 dollars a month for me to live on. I hate him for it. Then one day he shows up at my university without warning. He points at the tray in front of me and frowns. "I send you 50,000 dollars a month, and this is what you eat?"

I was the real daughter of the Jenkins family, recently brought home, while Coco, the fake, unexpectedly procured the College Entrance Exam Leech System. All she had to do was give a name, and the person's score would be transferred to her exam sheet. She was overjoyed when she mistook me for the star student who had been the top scorer in the city's high school for three years, and quickly put my name in. Then, in the three months leading up to the college entrance exam, she would be watching Youtube videos in class, getting her nails done after school, all while bragging she could get over 700—even with her eyes closed. I warned her that college entrance exams were no joke, but her boyfriend leapt to her defense, snapping at me, "Coco is a genius! What would a bumpkin like you know?!" Our parents were playing favorites as ever, yelling at me too. "Don't get jealous! Coco is a born genius!" They had no idea that there was another Jojo Jenkins at the school, and a boy at that. He was also given guaranteed admission to a prestigious university without needing to take college entrance exam, while I was just an art student who was addicted to drawing. On the day the results were published, Coco even invited the media on her livestream as she checked her score, ready to set her reputation as a young prodigy. I watched her smiling smugly, quietly putting away my arts school admission notice. She liked stealing college entrance exam scores? She had my blessing to steal mine!

When I turn 18, my family suddenly strikes gold. Dad makes a fortune in business. We move into a huge house with a driver and a housekeeper. My younger brother, Vincent Becker, is sent to study in Basmar. After that, he graduates and marries a rich heiress. Their partnership makes our family's business soar. I'm the only one who misses my college entrance exam because of stomach cramps, and my parents marry me off to a lonely man in some rundown countryside. He locks me in a basement and hurts me every single day. I crawl my way back home, half-alive, but my parents only look at me with disgust. "Useless brat! How did you not die out there?" Vincent says that he'll take me out to clear my head. Instead, he shoves me in front of a truck. I'm rushed to the ICU with nearly every bone in my body broken. Right before I die, he leans down in his designer suit and whispers in my ear. "Let me tell you the truth before you die. Our family didn't get rich from business. We got rich because of the hundred-million-dollar lottery ticket you bought. "We cashed it behind your back and never told you." I die full of resentment, and right after my death, they sell my organs for 120 thousand dollars. I open my eyes, and suddenly I'm there again—to the very day I bought the lottery ticket.

During a family banquet, four-year-old Benjamin Miller is made to kneel and apologize to Hannah Garber's husband, all because he called her "Mommy" in front of everyone. Samuel Miller arrives at the scene to find the banquet hall empty and blood on the ground. The housekeepers pour buckets of water across the floor, washing off the blood again and again. With red eyes, Samuel rushes forward and grabs one of the housekeepers by the arm. "Where's Ben? Where's my son? Where is he?" The accosted housekeeper shrugs off Samuel's grip. "How the hell should I know? I should be in bed at this damn hour, but instead, I'm here scrubbing blood off the floor!" Samuel, his eyes still red with tears, trails the remaining blood on the floor and heads outside to search for Benjamin. The trail of blood goes all the way to the edge of the man-made lake, then disappears. Samuel's head snaps up, and with the help of the moon's silvery light, he spots the small figure floating in the lake. The water around him is already dyed red with blood.

When I found out I'd won an $80,000 European vacation for two as a graduation prize, my Aunt Janice showed up at my house with my cousin, Kelsey Whitmore, who had always loved taking advantage of other people. "Elise, your dad's in poor health and can't fly. Why don't you give the trip to Kelsey and her husband? You'd probably get lost traveling on your own anyway. We won't take it for free. We'll give you a nice cash gift." Kelsey and her husband, Travis Connelly, had just gotten married and couldn't afford a honeymoon. My hands shook with absolute fury as I crumpled that meager 200 bucks in my fist. An $80,000 prize, and she expected to take all of it with a few casual words? I smiled, pushed the cash back toward her, and shook my head. "No, Aunt Janice. If my dad can't go, I can cash in the prize instead. Besides, Travis makes over $30,000 a month. Surely he can afford honeymoon tickets." Aunt Janice and Kelsey left with dark expressions. Half an hour later, Kelsey flooded the family group chat with celebration emojis. "Ticket redeemed! Thanks for the generous gift, Elise. I'll enjoy this luxury European honeymoon on your behalf." Aunt Janice tagged both my father and me. "Elise is such a thoughtful girl. She gave her European vacation to Kelsey." I was about to expose the lie when I heard my father talking on the phone in the next room. "That's right. Transfer the reservation to Kelsey. Elise and I both have a fever, so we can't go..." My heart went cold. While I was in the shower, my father had gone through my phone and stolen the redemption code. If he was willing to sacrifice his own life just to please his relatives, then I was done trying to save it.

Ever since my little brother died of a sudden high fever and Mom started spending all her time with Matthew Hunt, I started cutting her out of our family photos. One day, Dad got a call from my teacher. She overheard me saying I lost my mom, and I wanted to borrow my classmate's mom instead. Dad paused for a moment, then didn't correct me. "Yeah," he said quietly. "She passed away early." At the school's parent-child sports day, Dad saw me slip a cleaner ten dollars and ask her to be my mom for the day. He didn't stop me. Instead, he handed her another 200 bucks and asked if she could attend the parent meeting, too. After that, whenever something called for a mom, Dad let me go out and "hire" one. It wasn't until much later that Mom realized she hadn't heard from us in a long time. She canceled her meetings and came to pick me up from school herself. But at the gate, the teacher frowned and stopped her. Confused, she went home. The moment she stepped inside, she heard me talking to the property manager. "My mom's dead," I said. "Do you wanna be my new mom?"

At my daughter’s graduation party, the laptop I gave her turned out to be the same model as the one my ex-wife's boyfriend gave her. She slammed the computer I bought violently onto the ground, smashing it to pieces. "You obviously knew Chad was going to give me this, yet you bought the same one. You just want to make Chad look bad!" My daughter screamed hysterically at me, while my ex-wife flashed a malicious smile. Half a month later, my daughter secretly drugged me during dinner. When I woke up, I found myself smuggled across the border, trapped inside a cold iron cage. On stage, the auctioneer announced, "Today, we're auctioning off every single organ from this man's body. Highest bidder wins!" Meanwhile, my daughter sat down below the stage, her gaze filled with venomous hatred. "Connor, since you love buying identical things just to steal everyone else's spotlight, today, we'll let you steal the spotlight to your heart's content! "Let's see which of your organs you actually have the power to save on your poor worker's salary!" As my heart turned to stone, I silently awakened the system that I had neglected for many years. [Ding—Host has successfully activated the Damage Transfer System.]

On my wedding day, my twin sister refused to take off my dress. "The groom's car is almost here, Isabella. Give it back." But my father was already smoothing her skirt. "Let her have it. You're twins—no one can tell you apart." My mother pinned her veil and tossed me the bridesmaid dress. "It's just a ceremony, Camilla. You're still the one getting married." Just like always. Whatever Isabella wanted, I wasn't allowed to fight for. The last chicken wing. The only scholarship. Now my own wedding dress. I reached for my phone to call Luca. Isabella snatched it from my hand. "Let's play a game. We swap places—no one tells. I want you to see, with your own eyes, who Luca really loves." I almost said no. Then I saw it. A bump in the lace, right over the heart. I pulled back the silk and read a word stitched in pale gold thread. Tesoro. The name he whispered to her a hundred times. The name he had never once said to me. My wedding dress had never been meant for me. So I unclasped the diamond necklace he gave me and set it down. "Then she can have the audience too." I slipped into the burgundy bridesmaid dress and watched my sister walk down the aisle wearing my name and my life. Then Luca pressed a key into my palm and whispered, "Come to the penthouse tonight, Tesoro." He had no idea he was confessing to the wrong sister.

When I'm seven years old, my dad turns me in to the Court Judgment of the Born Wicked because of my tendency to vomit. If I'm found guilty, my blood ties with my dad will be forcibly severed. Then, I'll be sent to prison. Everyone claims that Dad is just making a fuss over nothing. "Your daughter is still so young, so it's natural for her to fall ill. As a father, you should be more considerate toward her." But when the evidence is shown, everyone clamps up immediately. There was once when Dad drank so much to the point he suffered from gastric bleeding. The business contract that he managed to convince his client to sign was all soiled because I vomited on him as soon as he got home. Thanks to me, the contract was voided. Dad got fired on the spot. During Bryce Fuller, my older brother's birthday, I vomited onto his birthday cake in front of his classmates. Because of that, Bryce was isolated by all of his classmates. He became so depressed that he tried to slit his wrist in an attempt to take his own life. I'll keep vomiting everywhere, be it at the dining table or on my bed. Dad and Bryce have to clean me up more than 30 times every day. They suffer greatly because of me. What angers everyone the most is that after I'm done vomiting, I'll laugh at everyone in a provocative manner. The judge gives his verdict instantly, claiming that I'm wicked by nature. Bryce's eyes redden immediately. As he cries, he tells me that he can't bear to see me leaving him. I never shed any tears, nor do I throw a tantrum. Instead, I accept the judge's verdict calmly, but with a prerequisite condition that the judge finishes watching my memories. The judge is shocked, to say the least. "We'll have to crack your skull open in order to extract your memories. You'll be in a world of pain. Are you sure about that?" I nod in determination. But Bryce, on the other hand, looks alarmed. "I won't agree to that!"

There's this thing that my mom keeps repeating to me. "I love my children equally. I will always treat you and Brielle the same." It's true that I get everything my sister, Brielle Montgomery, has since we were children. If Brielle has a new backpack, I do too. If Brielle goes for piano lessons, I'll be given the opportunity to attend the same lessons. When I go home for the holidays, my mom digs out two beautiful shopping bags sporting luxury brand logos. With a smile on her face, she hands them to us. "I specifically went to the store to buy you nice coats. Both of you get a coat each. I'll have you know that coats with wool linings are worth thousands of dollars. I don't even have the heart to wear one of these coats. I only bought these coats for you two." As I gaze at the expensive-looking coat, I feel warmth surging into my heart. But when I try on the coat, I feel a weird, scratchy sensation coming from my armpits. After flipping the coat inside out, I notice a few strands of long, dry hair tightly entangled among the seams. I even smell a faint trace of mold mixed with a strong hint of rot that can't be covered up by the cheap fragrance on the coat.

My mother threatens to jump off a building in front of me three times. The first time is when I fill out my college application. She stands on the rooftop and forces me to choose a local college. I give in, and with a 1550 SAT score, I end up attending a second-tier local college. The second time is after I graduate and go to Brayton for work. She stands on top of my company building and forces me to quit. I return to my hometown and take a gas station job she finds for me, earning 7.50 dollars per hour. The third time, she stands on a rooftop again and forces me to marry a man I have only met once but whom she is very satisfied with. I obey and marry him, only to suffer domestic violence and miscarry. In the end, I can no longer take it and jump off a building myself. When I open my eyes again, my mother is gritting her teeth as she climbs onto the rooftop. "If you dare apply to a Privy League college out of town, I will jump from here!" I give her one glance before turning around and walking away. "Go ahead. Don't waste my time."

To take care of my mother after she fell and injured herself, I turned down a promotion and took a week off work to stay by her side. On the day she was discharged from the hospital, she smiled and handed me a small envelope. “Suzy, you’ve worked hard these past few days. This is just a little something from me. Go treat yourself to something good.” I wiped my hands, a quiet warmth spreading through my chest. When I opened the envelope, I froze for a moment. Inside was $2. Still, I told myself it didn’t matter. The amount wasn’t important. What mattered was the thought behind it. But the very next day, while scrolling through social media, I came across a post from my younger brother, the one who hadn’t shown his face at the hospital even once. Nine photos filled the post, all of them showing off a sprawling luxury mansion. In the center was a photo of the purchase contract. The caption read: “Officially the owner of a $2 million riverfront house. Big thanks to Mom for the support!”

My uncle had kidney failure, and I was a match, but I did not want to donate. I had looked it up online. Some donors ended up weak for the rest of their lives, stuck taking medication forever. I hated taking pills. Mom said that was all nonsense. A person could live perfectly fine with one kidney, she told me. It would not affect my life at all. She also said that if I did this one small favor for him, Grandma would finally love me the same way she loved my cousin. However, I did not even like my maternal grandmother. She played favorites. Grandma loved Uncle Oliver, so she loved his son more than he loved me. Every time we visited, Grandma and Grandpa fussed over my cousin and bought him all his favorite snacks while they handed me bruised apples. That was with Mom giving up most of her paycheck every month to take care of them. Still, if donating a kidney really was just a small procedure, then it was worth it to make Mom happy. I was about to sign the consent form when a wall of text appeared in front of me. [Does the main character in every second-chance story have to get screwed over and die before they grow a brain?] I would get screwed over and die? My hand froze on the pen. Another comment floated into view. [Wake up! If you donate that kidney, your health will be compromised for life. Say goodbye to every decent job. And nobody's going to thank you for it!] [And later, your mom's going to blame you for not having a good job, for not being someone she can show off to your grandma!] [She's going to clean out your savings and give it all to your uncle for some business scheme just to stay in your grandma's good graces. And when you try to get your money back? You'll be too weak to put up a fight. They'll literally beat you to death!] Mom frowned when she noticed me spacing out. "What are you dragging your feet for, Cody? I'm your mother. Would I ever set you up?"

My younger brother, Anthony Chapman, the only family I had left, was suddenly diagnosed with cancer. Overnight, my modest salary became our only hope. I pushed myself to the brink of exhaustion, working overtime and taking on every extra assignment I could to earn enough bonuses and overtime pay to cover his treatment. But the universe seemed determined to make us suffer. One morning, just as I arrived at work, I received a notice that my brother was in critical condition. Below it was a string of voice messages from his girlfriend, Paige Fleming. Through helpless sobs, she told me they'd been through countless tests and had finally run out of money. My heart ached. I quickly reassured her and transferred the last 2,800 dollars in my bank account to her. Still consumed by worry, I took out another 14,000 dollars as a cash advance on my credit card. I urged her not to panic and to take good care of my brother, promising I'd find a way to cover the expenses somehow. I wanted to cry, but I couldn't afford to break down. I forced myself to regain my composure and returned to my desk. Just then, my best friend rushed over and thrust his phone toward me, a photo playing on the screen. "Clement, look at this! Isn't that your brother and his girlfriend? They're eating at some fancy restaurant!"

I spent ten years raising my stepson. Even though he never once called me 'Dad,' I never let him go without. Food, clothes, tuition, living expenses, I paid for everything. But on New Year's Eve, during the family reunion dinner, he suddenly spoke up in front of everyone. "Old man, I've got my eye on that apartment in the old district that's about to be demolished. Transfer it to me. I'll use it as my wedding house." I frowned. "That apartment is meant for your mother's retirement and your sister's education. Pick another development instead. I'll help cover the down payment." He slammed the table. "A down payment? That's nothing. "You want me to carry a mortgage at my age?" Then he looked me dead in the eye. "If you refuse to transfer the property, believe me, I'll make my mom divorce you." Instinctively, I turned to look at my wife beside me. But she only lowered her head in silence.