Plot Twists Short Stories & Bias Family Emotions Novels

When my young sister, Sharon, did something wrong for the first time, my mother downloaded an AI child education app. The AI said, "I think that punishing Sharon isn't effective. Why not punish her older sister, Sherry, whom she is close to? That way, Sharon will be disciplined because of her love for Sherry." Since then, I was used as a tool to discipline Sharon. Sharon loved ordering delivery, and my mother followed the AI's advice to dose my food delivery with ten packets of laxatives, which landed me in the emergency room. She used this opportunity to teach Sharon a lesson about food safety. When Sharon stayed out all night and did not come home, my mother followed the AI's advice to get five homeless men to drag me into the alleyway and rape me after I came home late from school to teach Sharon to protect herself. Sharon wanted to adopt a dog, so my mother took the AI's advice to release a mongrel with rabies into my room. I was bitten because I could not evade the dog's attack, as my mother locked me in the room with it. "Once your sister comes back from school, I'll show her the consequences of adopting a dog! "The AI told me that there is a one-month incubation period for rabies. When Sharon finally admits her mistake, I'll take you to the hospital for a vaccination." However, she had no idea that I had been bitten in the head. By the time Sharon returned, I had contracted rabies. My mother used my life as the price to pay for disciplining my sister.

At school, I had a nickname. They called me "Mister Wait-Your-Turn." I waited for the sneakers my brother had grown tired of, the backpack my sister thought was ugly, and the phones my parents had already cracked the screens of. Even when it came to taking a shower, I had to wait until everyone else was done. A week ago, Mom had promised me, "On the day of your college entrance exam, you won't have to wait your turn for the shower." So when I finally stumbled into the bathroom, drenched in sweat and smelling awful, I thought my turn had finally come. I was halfway through working up a lather when someone started pounding on the door. "Come out. Let your brother go in." My eyes stung, and I couldn't tell whether it was from the steam or something else. I stood there without moving and gritted my teeth. "But you said I wouldn't have to wait on the day of my exam..." The pounding grew louder. Mom's voice came through the door, edged with impatience. "Let your brother go first. You can wait a little longer!" My hair was still covered in foam, and I'd barely managed to pull my sweat-soaked clothes back on when Mom dragged me out. My brother smiled at me. It was the kind of smile that seemed to say sorry, but there was far more triumph than apology in it. He said he wouldn't take long. His version of "not long" was eighty minutes. By then, my sweat-soaked clothes had dried completely, and the foam in my hair had dried up. After my brother came my sister. After Mom came Dad. The temperature on the water heater dropped from 113°F to 32°F. That was the moment I decided I was done waiting.

When the embassy ordered an evacuation, my parents took only two people with them—my older sister, and the boy they'd raised as their own son. My sister was their little princess, and they couldn't bear to leave her in a country torn apart by war. Meanwhile, the boy was the child they'd cherished since he was little. They couldn't bear the thought of him suffering. As for me, all they offered were words of comfort. "You've been through a lot growing up. After everything you've endured, this is probably nothing to you. Once we get them home safe, we'll come back for you." Because of that promise, I waited in a foreign country, week after week. A stray bullet eventually found its way into my heart. Meanwhile, my parents were making headlines around the world for celebrating his birthday. Given a second chance at life, I boarded a boat run by smugglers and fled the country. From then on, I risked everything to build a future for myself, never again seeking affection from my family.

While I was completely in the dark, my husband secretly donated his sperm. Before long, the two women who had received it showed up at my doorstep. Both were heavily pregnant. And both moved into my house as if they owned the place. It was over a hundred degrees outside, yet they still had the nerve to order me to go out and buy them drinks. I told them to get out. Instead, they pointed their fingers in my face and cursed at me. "Bitch! From now on, we're Ryan's first and second wives. How dare you act so high and mighty?" "Our sons are going to inherit Ryan's business empire. You'd better take good care of us. If you behave, we might even let you stay on as the help." Furious, I called my husband home and demanded an explanation. But instead of standing by me, he took their side. "Victoria, they're just two poor women from the countryside. Cut them some slack and forgive them." I laughed right in his face. He had thrown away a wealthy, accomplished wife for two shameless strangers. "Don't forget who's really in charge of this family. Since you're so worried about them, you can get out with them."

My husband's sister was pregnant when she leapt from the building. Her final phone call wasn't to him. It was to me. When the police asked for clues, I said nothing. When my in-laws knelt and begged, I watched them coldly. Yet my husband never divorced me. If anything, he treated me even better than before. Then, after I became pregnant, my nightmare truly began. He tied me to the bed and summoned a group of vagrants, ordering them to take turns violating me. He said he wanted me to taste despair.

After graduating from college, I set out to make a new life in Kingshaven with my parents, who had just wrapped up over two decades of teaching in an underserved rural community. To our surprise, as soon as we stepped off the train, we ran straight into Kingshaven’s infamous little tyrant. She clearly had a woman’s appearance, yet she kept insisting she was a man. Of course, I glanced at her a couple of times. “What are you staring at? Never seen a man before? I can’t stand women like you, using your looks to seduce men wherever you go.” We had only just arrived in the capital, so I did not want any trouble. I took my parents by the arm and turned to leave. As I turned, however, she spotted the little wooden bird hanging from my backpack. She suddenly grabbed me and tossed a switchblade at me. “So, you’re another one of my brother’s pathetic admirers. Do you women ever know when to quit? Cut your face so you can’t seduce men anymore, and I’ll let you go.” Mom’s expression darkened with anger, while Dad stepped protectively in front of me. I did not back down. “What makes you think I need your permission to leave?” The tomboy reacted as though I had just told the funniest joke in the world. Even the thugs gathered behind her burst out laughing. “Because my eldest brother, Damian Kane, is the richest man in Kingshaven. My second brother, Antonio Cross, practically owns this city, and my third brother, Julian Reed, is a top superstar. “I’m the beloved little sister of all those men, Sienna Quinn.” Hearing that, my eyes widened in disbelief. Those three names she had just said were the ridiculous names I had jokingly invented for my foster brothers ten years ago.

My parents, Morris Lester and Andrea Smith, got a divorce. My younger brother, Ian Lester, goes with my mother, who marries into money, while I stay with my father, who has just gone bankrupt. However, fate has a twisted sense of humor. My mother remarries Mark Laurent, an abusive man, and her life spirals downward. My father, on the other hand, pulls himself together and builds a successful business from the ground up. Ian becomes green with jealousy. He pretends to be pitiful, begs me to take him shopping, and drives us straight into a car crash that kills us both. When I open my eyes again, we're back on the day our parents file a divorce. This time, Ian pipes up, "I want to stay with Dad and make a better life together!" I keep a straight face, but deep down, I'm over the moon. I, Ethan Lester, refuse to spend another lifetime living like a fugitive.

During our family's trip over the holiday season, my cousin, Ginnie Lane, suggested "swapping accommodations" with an online friend. The second I objected, her eyes welled with tears, and she started sobbing. "Zach, you just look down on me because I'm an orphan! That's why you don't want to go to my friend's place!" My parents softened and gave in. In the end, we went to the Northern Grasslands and stayed in a drafty tent where wind blew in from every side. A massive blizzard hit that night, and our whole family froze to death in despair. When I opened my eyes again, I had returned to the day we discussed where to spend the holiday season.

I came from a family of musical prodigies. Everyone had talent—except me. I was born tone-deaf, with a harsh, unpleasant voice. My parents were Grammy winners, but I couldn't even pass an audition for a school show. Everyone said listening to me was torture. Desperate to carry on the Bennett family's musical legacy, my parents adopted Layla Bennett. The moment she entered our home, she took my place. My parents called her a musical genius and brought her to exclusive dinners, industry parties, and prestigious galas. My older brother, Ron Bennett, who had once spoiled me rotten, now said Layla was a hundred times better. Within a few years, Layla became one of the hottest rising stars in the music industry. I became an embarrassment to the family. Once, I touched Layla's performance gown. They accused me of trying to ruin it out of jealousy and shipped me overseas. “A spiteful child deserves to be punished!” Years later, I finished my studies abroad and finally returned home. But nothing was the way I remembered it. Layla lifted her chin and looked down at me. "Evelyn, I'm giving my first solo recital in Vienna soon. Mom and Dad will officially announce it at the party tonight. I'm the heiress to the Bennett family's musical legacy. We only need one golden voice in this family." My hand froze over the gift I'd brought her. Everyone said I had disgraced the family name. But what would they say if they knew the daughter they'd thrown away had already won gold at an international violin competition and performed on stages around the world? Would they be proud of me?

I was supposed to stand beside my fiancé, Marco Bellini, at the charity gala. Both our families had assumed for years that we would marry. This was my first time attending their most formal social event as his future wife. But 20 minutes before the gala, my father suddenly changed the plan. "Sophia Ricci will stand beside Marco tonight. The foundation is honoring her father, Lorenzo Ricci, so she should be the one to welcome the guests." I turned to Marco. "You agree with this?" After a moment, he said, "It's one night. Don't make such a big deal out of it." And just like that, the guest list I'd spent two weeks preparing went to Sophia. Once the gala began, an older guest who hadn't seen us in years smiled at them. "So the Bellini family and the Moretti family are finally getting these two engaged?" Everyone laughed. I stood a few steps away, looking only at Marco. All he had to say was, "You've got the wrong idea." But first he looked at Sophia. She looked uncomfortable, so he smiled and changed the subject. "Tonight is about the foundation. Let's leave our private lives out of it." He never explained who I was. And he never came back to my side. Three days later, I became the Ferraro family's only outside partner on their West Coast project. I was done with the rest of them.

After my SATs are over, I go to the office block with my poverty certificate to apply for a school loan. The staff member glances at my paperwork before turning my application down coldly. "To think that you're already swindling loans from the government at such a young age! High-income families like yours aren't lacking in the money department at all!" At first, I think this is just a misunderstanding. That is, until the staff member passes me the information on my parents. "Your parents have a villa worth 20 million dollars in the city center, whereas your younger brother goes to an elite academy that costs 800 thousand dollars' worth of tuition fees per year! "Tell me, how can someone from your family be eligible to apply for a school loan?" I'm stunned, to say the least. The entire village has raised me since young. For the past 18 years, I've been the only child of an extremely impoverished family. Little do I know that my parents have already formed another family of their own in the city…

It was the day before my wedding. My mother suddenly demanded that I hand over my bank card and announced, "Erik still needs another 50,000 dollars for the house, Vicky. Why don't you help him cover the rest for now?" I stared at her in disbelief. "Wait. Haven't I been helping pay that off for over eight years? How is there still 50,000 dollars left?" My mother avoided my gaze. "Interest rates are high these days, Vicky." I pulled up my banking app. I had been transferring 2000 dollars every month! How had that not made a dent in the debt? Something definitely smelled fishy. Ever since I graduated, my mother had told me I needed to help pay off the mortgage because, in her words, it had to be a family effort. Erik was still young and didn't have a stable income, she said. Thus, every month, as soon as I got paid, I had to transfer a set amount to my mother's account. I had been doing that for eight years. Because of those payments, I never had enough disposable income to buy jewelry or accessories. I could never bring myself to quit my job or take an extended leave of absence. I couldn't even bring myself to tell my boyfriend that I was still helping pay off my brother's debt. "You're his sister, Vicky. You're family! Blood is thicker than water, right? Even after you get married, that won't change. We'll always be on your side," my mother insisted. After everything I had contributed, I honestly believed I had a claim to the house too. At least, I did until today. By chance, I found Erik's folder in the living room. Inside was the property deed. I glanced at it and froze. My brother was the sole owner of the house.

I am a real estate agent. My mom, Irma Bond, comes to me privately and asks me to sell her apartment. She explains, "Your dad is having trouble with his business. I want to give him a little assistance." This apartment was left to her by my grandmother, Anita Crosby. It was meant to be a safe haven just for her. For my dad, she is selling her own refuge at a low price. Soon, a buyer contacts me. The woman says to me, "Hi. Could you reserve the apartment for me first? I'll have my partner give it to me as a birthday gift next week." The moment I catch a glimpse of her profile photo featuring her and her partner, I freeze. It's my dad! I nod with a smile as I reply, "Of course. I look forward to seeing him soon."

My family always used me as an example to teach Yvette Langley, my twin sister, a lesson. When we were little, my mom would purposely leave me alone on the street. She would let Yvette watch me break down in tears so she would learn never to wander off. My brother, Martin Langley, would get kids from outside school to corner me in an alley. He wanted Yvette to see me get slapped and forced to my knees so she would learn to stay away from troublemakers. So I became more and more timid, and they grew to like me less and less. Then, the day before the SAT, my mom gave me an order I could not refuse. “Tomorrow, you’re going to turn in a blank SAT.” I stared at her in shock. Tears filled my eyes as I asked, “Why?” Martin sat beside her and spoke as if it were the most ordinary thing in the world. “Once you fail the SAT and have to struggle because you can’t get into college, Yvette will learn to appreciate her chance to go to college. She’ll work harder and become a better student. “We need you to push her forward.” They talked about sacrificing my future as if it were nothing. My heart sank. I had held everything inside for nineteen years. That last thread finally snapped. All I felt was heartbreak. That was when I finally decided to leave my family behind, the family that had always sacrificed me for Yvette.

Mom was a top student at a prestigious school and had always been determined to be the best at everything. She demanded that I learn to walk by seven months, speak fluently by eighteen months, and master all addition, subtraction, multiplication, and division by the age of three. I did all of it. Yet Mom still felt it wasn’t enough. However, when my younger brother, Liam, didn’t speak until he was five, Mom clapped and cheered when he finally did, celebrating his “late-blooming brilliance”. I didn’t think anything of it. Until one day, I was wearing headphones, memorizing Spanish words, and accidentally let the sound leak out, scaring Liam. He clutched his chest and cried, saying his heart hurt. Mom’s eyes turned red as she stormed over and slapped me. Then she grabbed my ear, twisting it a full 360 degrees with all her strength. The pain in my ear was so intense that I lost all feeling, and the fear made me nauseous to the point of vomiting. Still, Mom forced the headphones back on, cranked the volume to the maximum, and locked me in the storage room to reflect. “How could I give birth to such a terrible child? You’re just jealous of Liam. No matter how much I do for you, you’ll never appreciate it! “Love listening to words, huh? Then listen all you want.” But seven days later, when she opened the door, she completely lost it.

On the day I filled out my college applications, I finally realized the truth. My family was not poor. Only I was. I had ranked in the top ten in the entire state, and the admissions office told me I could choose any Ivy League school I wanted with full tuition waived. I was overjoyed, already about to call my parents with the good news when a new message suddenly popped up on my phone. 'Look at you celebrating, you poor child. Your family isn't poor at all! Even if your parents know your score, they'll only make you apply to some mediocre local university. They'll even use your scholarship money to buy your brother a new watch. 'Your brother, who supposedly went out to work, is living it up in Mariner's Bay—huge apartment, sports car, 300 thousand a month for living expenses. He's living the high life. You're the only one who thinks your family is poor. They're just afraid you'll find out they have money and try to take your brother's share. Poor thing. 'Hurry up and use your college applications as a chance to escape your family, or you'll spend your whole life as your brother's cash cow!'

I was the Blackwell family's real heir, lost as a child and recovered only five years ago. After Grandfather's will left me the controlling shares, the adopted son, Damian, jumped into the pool himself and swore I'd pushed him. My parents never bothered to check. They shipped me overnight to the poorest mining belt in Kembala. Three years later, my father called me for the first time. "Damian isn't angry anymore." "Blackwell Forge Holdings is short on cash." "Crawl back here and marry into Gloria Dane's household in Damian's place, so she'll invest in us." I laughed. Gloria Dane was an old woman pushing sixty. What a devoted father he was. But they didn't know that during those three years, I'd quietly built the largest private financial network in the world, the Obsidian Crown Consortium. Now they were days from bankruptcy and still wanted to trade me for money. Fine. I'd been looking for a reason to go back and settle every account.

I accidentally come across a post made by my mom's smurf account on the Internet. "Is it too cheap for me to prepare just a set of gold bars as a coming-of-age gift for my daughter?" My heart skips a beat. My parents are known for being extremely stingy. To think that they are willing to spend this much on me! I'm worried that my parents might overwork themselves just to prepare such a lucrative gift, so I take a screenshot and save the link to a three-year vacation tour that's priced at 999 dollars. Then, I decide to respond to the post as an anonymous user. "Your daughter will feel very happy as long as she receives her parents' love. No materialistic gift can ever outshine that." Five minutes later, Mom responds to me, "Thank you for your suggestion, but I've already taken my darling on a graduation trip in Enora last week. She had so much fun there."

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!"

Our pack has a tradition that goes back 100 years. When a pup turns one month old, her father plants a moonsilk vine with his own hands, and it grows alongside her. When the pup first shifts into wolf form, her mother harvests the ripe silk from the vine. From that moonsilk, she weaves two moon robes by hand. At the bonding, the she-wolf wears the long gown, and her mate wears the matching robe. Fur from both wolves is sewn into the lining of each robe. The robes symbolize one moon, one pack, and two mates with one heart. My twin sister, Lise, and I were both due to have our bonding ceremonies at the next full moon. A week before the ceremony, my mother brought Lise her finished gown. The gown shimmered silver in the moonlight. Lise couldn't stop touching it. My mother watched her fondly. "My little pup is about to be mated. I can hardly bear to let you go." My father tried to sound stern, but he couldn't hide his smile. "If Cecil doesn't treat you right, I'll tear his throat out!" I watched her with envy, hoping I'd get a gown like that too. "Mother, my bonding ceremony is at the next full moon too." My mother waved me off impatiently. "There wasn't enough moonsilk. Yours went to Lise too." I froze where I stood. My father glanced at me and said offhandedly, "Just buy a white dress for your bonding. It's the same thing. And stop sulking and making this hard on everyone." As I looked at the gown, I remembered how carefully my mother had tended the moonsilk vines in the moonlight. She'd once told me, "A bonding decides whether a wolf will be accepted by her mate's pack. It's one of the most important moments of your life." But they didn't care about my bonding ceremony at all. In that case, it was time I left the pack.