Bias Family Emotions Short Stories & Novels

My daughter and my husband’s godson were diagnosed with acute leukemia at the same time. The doctors said a banked cord-blood unit could save a life. His foster sister, Rebecca Sloan, knelt in front of me with her son in her arms and begged until her voice gave out. “Claire, please, let Leo have the cord blood. His father died right after he was born and I never banked any of my own. Have some pity on the two of us. “Leo is the only child I have. I’m begging you. Save him.” I refused outright. I was not going to gamble with my daughter’s life. Then, on the morning of my daughter’s treatment, my husband, Ethan Hale hit me with his car and left me critically injured. The wheels went over my thigh and back again. The pain nearly took me under. He stood over me while I struggled in the blood on the pavement, and I couldn’t read anything in his eyes. “Claire, I’m sorry. For Leo’s sake, this is the only thing I can do. “You shouldn’t have fought Rebecca over the cord blood. Leo is far sicker than our daughter. If anyone gets saved first, it should be him.” They rushed me into surgery. He turned around, took the cord blood, and gave it to Rebecca’s son. By the time I woke up in my room, the only thing waiting for me was my daughter’s death certificate.

In my past life, Mom and Dad force me to jump into a freezing lake to fish out the necklace Ramona Stone, their adopted daughter, dropped. I end up running a 104-degree Fahrenheit fever, lying in bed barely conscious, while my whole family flies off to Solara for a vacation just to cheer Ramona up. I call Mom, trembling and barely holding on, only to be met with impatience. "Ramona is finally in a better mood, Harper. Do you really have to be so inconsiderate? You should just take some medicine yourself." I have no choice but to drag my weak body downstairs to look for medicine. I accidentally fall down the stairs and lose my life. I open my eyes and find myself back on the first day of summer vacation before my junior year of high school. Ramona dangles the necklace in front of me, then leans close. "You wouldn't refuse to help me retrieve it, would you, Harper? Mom says we need to help each other out, after all." I dodge her and hurl the necklace straight into the middle of the lake this time. "Screw you! I'm done with this family!"

My twin sister and I were born with the same face and nothing else in common. Elara was gentle enough to step around an ant. I was vicious. Cross me and I'd take your skin off and never lose a night's sleep over it. The year we came of age, the Crown Prince chose Elara. But the old court held that royal twins brought ruin. If Elara was to be Crown Princess, I had to die. So our parents wept and begged me to drink a death-simulating draught and disappear forever. Before I left, I made three demands. First, my Shadow Guard would pass to Elara. Second, she'd have a dowry worthy of a princess and a wedding no one could sneer at. Third, if the Crown Prince ever wronged her, they'd bring her home. They swore to all three. They told me that once I was gone, Elara could take the throne beside him without a whisper against her, and never want for anything again. I drank the draught and rode north to the frontier. I thought one life of mine was a fair price for a lifetime of hers. Three years later, pain tore me out of sleep. Twins share what the other feels. Something had happened to Elara. I rode for the capital through the night, and my sister was gone. A woman I'd never seen was being crowned Empress in her place. And our parents sat below the dais, smiling. Three years, and they'd forgotten one thing. Elara was the only one who ever kept me on a leash. And she wasn't there anymore.

Ethan Shaw is dead. His face has been destroyed and his limbs severed. When his body reaches the morgue, the person who performs the autopsy is his own wife, Dr. Vivian Sullivan. She is a cool, rational professor of forensic pathology, and she is the woman Ethan loved for more than a decade. Six years ago he lost his voice saving her life, and she married him because of it. In all the years that followed, she remembered every one of his follow-up appointments yet never once remembered his birthday. She tended his injuries, but gave every ounce of warmth and favor she had to his younger brother. Right up until the moment he died, Ethan was calling her, over and over. And she hung up on his last plea for help so she could film a meteor shower for his brother. Afterward, Vivian finds a scar she knows on the body, a red mole behind its ear, and the ring he died protecting--the one he'd meant to give her. She finally recognizes him.

On the fifteenth of every month, Rowan Hawthorn and I would swap homes. Eighteen years ago, a hospital accidentally swapped our embryos during IVF and put them into the wrong mothers. When the truth came out, my biological parents, Frank and Ronnie Hawthorn, wanted to keep Rowan. But his biological parents, Eugene and Rowena Cooper, wanted him back. They decided that he would live with each family for one month. Then, we would switch on the fifteenth of every month. I, on the other hand, became the unwanted burden. Wherever Rowan went, the house would be fully stocked with snacks and drinks. He would receive a thousand dollars as his monthly allowance, and the sunlit room would always be reserved for him. Wherever I stayed, there would only be a little food in the fridge, and I would get a dark storage room as my bedroom. Eighteen years later, I was diagnosed with uremia, and Rowan turned out to be an exact match for me. Eugene and Rowena threw a refusal of treatment form at me. “We raised you, and that’s enough. Ask your biological parents for money. Don’t even think about taking our son’s kidney.” Frank and Ronnie pleaded with me as they said, “We know we’ve failed you. But if you die, so be it. Rowan is our whole life!” Just then, I received a call from the hospital. “Mr. Cooper, we’re sorry, but we mixed up your records again. The one with uremia is actually Rowan Hawthorn.” A sudden sense of clarity washed over me. After that, I sold the old house my grandfather had left me. Then, I got myself a camera and some gear I needed before leaving. From that day on, I became a lone wanderer and traveled wherever the wind took me.

I was the ultimate glow-up story. My parents were both obsessed with looks and voices, yet when I was born, I looked like an underdeveloped monkey. Even my cries sounded like a frog, croaking so loudly that the entire hospital ward found me annoying. My parents named me Blob and dumped me at Grandma's house far away from them. I only earned the right to return home when I made it into a national top university. My father, a movie star, merely glanced at me before his brows knitted together. "Hat, sunglasses and mask? Why are you wrapping yourself up like that? What, are you ashamed to show your face?" My mother, a chart-topping singer, scoffed. "She probably saw us take Vivian on that show and is afraid she'll be completely outshone by Vivian's looks the moment we meet. She may be ugly, but she sure has a lot of tricks up her sleeve." My younger sister, Vivian Sterling, ran up to me and took my hand. "Looks aren't everything, Blob. You don't have to feel inferior around me." My hand, which was about to take off my mask, froze in midair. Grandma had written to them every month in the last two years. "Hurry up and come pick Blob up! The older she gets, the more irresistible she becomes. We have more than a dozen dogs guarding the yard, yet we still can't stop people from scaling the walls just to sneak a peek at her!" So not a single person in this family had ever looked at the photos Grandma sent them every year?

"Dominic, Julian, guess what I wished for?" A cheap, marked-down cake sat on the table. I closed my eyes and made a wish. When I opened them, the two chairs across from me were empty. That was when I remembered: my brothers didn't want me anymore. When I was ten, my brothers brought Leah Morgan home. She was the daughter of their late mentor, Professor Andrew Morgan, and they told me to treat her like a real sister. But little by little, Leah stole all their affection from me. I grew anxious, then competitive. I thought that if I were good enough, they might love me a little more. In the final round of a piano competition, Leah burst into tears after losing to me. Dominic comforted her. "In my heart, you play better than Heather ever could!" I ranked first in my school and won a scholarship, which cost Leah her place among the candidates. Julian went so far as to force the school to investigate whether I had cheated. At my eighteenth-birthday party, Leah fell from the second-floor balcony into the pool. She pointed at me. "Heather pushed me!" My brothers were furious. Without an ounce of mercy, they dumped me in the worst part of town. "We indulged you for too long, Heather. That's why you became so competitive. Now it's time you learned to rein in your jealousy." They even sent local thugs to my door to harass me and steal what little money I managed to earn. They thought I would learn my lesson. What they didn't know was that I had received an email offering me a full scholarship to the University of Zurich. I was about to leave for Switzerland, and I was never coming back.

When I was eight, a prank by my little sister, Alice, left silver poison eating away at my heart. To save me, my dad knelt at the Temple of the Moon Goddess for ninety-nine days. Only then did he win two moonstone pendants from the Goddess, enough to hold the poison at bay. After that, Alice became the family pariah. They stopped speaking to her. They wouldn't even let her smile. For my sake, my father traveled far and wide searching for a cure for the silver poison. My mom quit her work as a healer to care for me, because the moonstone pendants needed her at the Moon Temple every day to replenish their magic. I always believed the Moon Goddess watched over me, blessing me with the best family in the world. That belief lasted until the day registration for the Imperial Academy closed. Three minutes remained before the Imperial Academy's registration portal closed. Then a sudden thunderstorm drained the portal's power crystal. Without hesitation, my mother ripped the pendant from around my neck and poured its magic into the portal. I clutched at her clothes, my lips turning blue. "Mom... I can't breathe..." But she looked at me with nothing but disappointment. "Grace, you've already taken all the love and resources that should have been Alice's. Now you want to rob her of her future too? "You still have the backup pendant, and yet here you are playing the victim! I'm so disappointed in you!" She shoved me into my bedroom and locked the door. But she didn't know. Alice had borrowed the other pendant for her graduation ball.

I am a mermaid from White Tide Bay, born with a tideheart scale hidden beneath my sternum. Mermaids from White Tide Bay can live among humans on two legs for as long as they choose. Only when fully submerged in seawater and willing to drop the glamour do their legs merge back into a tail. But once the tideheart scale is damaged, seawater becomes a necessity for survival. Freshwater, medicine, and ordinary IV drips can only buy time; they can never replace a return to the sea. The tideheart scale is not a mate bond. It cannot control anyone. It only awakens after a mermaid has truly fallen in love. Should the beloved betray that love, the scale turns on its bearer, pulling moisture from the blood and gnawing through flesh and bone after nightfall like countless tiny teeth. Unless the mermaid lets go of her feelings completely, the tidal decay will never stop. On the night of our wedding anniversary, I sat in the most sought-after oceanview restaurant in Greyport, brimming with anticipation, and waited for my husband, Adrian Hayes, for two full hours. He never came. But the tideheart scale on my chest suddenly began to burn. Through the glass water curtain that divided the restaurant, I saw Adrian having dinner with a woman. Cecilia Roland. His first love, the woman he'd dated for five years, the one he once claimed he had long since left behind. Adrian leaned forward and gently wiped a trace of sauce from her lip. He hadn't shown me that kind of patience in a very long time. I endured the growing burn in my chest and called him three times in a row. He declined every one. A moment later, a text came through: "Evelyn, an urgent meeting came up. Don't wait for me. I'll make it up to you next time." Everyone in Greyport knew Adrian Hayes never declined my calls. So he wasn't in a meeting. He simply didn't want me interrupting his dinner with Cecilia. The seawater felt as though it were being drained from my blood drop by drop. The scale on my chest cracked and curled at

I was the most renowned pediatrician in the pack. On the day we administered the VRX-17 vaccine I'd introduced, the pups were infected en masse. A neurotropic virus swept through the pediatric ward, killing two pups. Several more developed encephalitis, pneumonia, and permanent paralysis. The Werewolf Court convicted me of deliberate harm. I pleaded desperately that the vaccine was contaminated. But when the drug was sent for testing, the batch number and properties all came back normal. How was that possible? I'd tested the vaccine myself, and my results clearly showed something was wrong. I couldn't accept it. I sought out expert after expert to verify my findings, but every single one told me the vaccine was fine. The judge and the officers wore grim expressions as they spoke. "Ma'am, you can't defraud the pack's medical system like this." "Think of the pups you killed. What had they ever done to deserve it?" In the end, I was sentenced to death for causing a catastrophic medical incident. My parents were accused of aiding my violations. They were stripped of their positions and died under a torrent of blame and injustice. I learned of their deaths before my execution. Even as the wolfsbane seeped into my veins, all I could feel was regret. When I opened my eyes again, a nurse was about to push VRX-17 into a pup's vein.

I’m the reincarnation of a lucky charm. As long as I’m happy, my whole family prospers. To keep me smiling, my billionaire grandfather built me a palatial bedroom and hired a whole team of housekeepers and nannies just to keep me company. Then, on the day the long-lost real heiress was finally brought home, everything changed. Holding a livestream rig, she stormed straight into my room and sneered at the camera, “Everyone, this is the fake daughter who stole my place and lived my life of luxury for eighteen years! “She knew I was coming back and still tried to fool everyone with this ridiculous nonsense about being some kind of lucky-star reincarnation? Fine. Today I’m exposing her for who she really is.” Then she slapped me across the face. Everyone was stunned. I covered my burning cheek as tears spilled down before I could stop them. At that exact moment, Zimmerman Group’s stock began to crash.

After being away from home for three months, my wife, Victoria Sterling, and our daughter, Sophie Sterling, came looking for me, crying as they begged me to come home. Once I was back, they treated me better than ever. They brought breakfast to my bedside, gave me free rein with their black cards, and when I casually mentioned wanting a new car, three brand-new sports cars showed up the very next day. But when Ethan White, Victoria’s childhood sweetheart and first love, accused me of stealing his design drafts, Victoria didn’t bother asking for an explanation. She smashed her phone against my face and snapped, “What do you have to say for yourself?” Sophie yelled at me too. “Get on your knees and apologize to Ethan! Otherwise, get out of the Sterling family!” I looked up at their furious faces. Then I suddenly laughed. Why should I apologize? I’m not even Victoria’s real husband.

After having been missing for many years, my biological parents found me at the age of sixteen. By that time, there was already someone else living in the family home who had taken my place as the Johnston family’s daughter. My parents, my older brother, and my fiance said warningly, “Don’t you dare act spoiled or entitled just because you’re a Johnston by blood. Also, don’t cause Hannah one ounce of trouble.” The entire family prioritized Hannah in every matter, which made me seem more like a maid whenever I was with them. For two years, I let them walk all over me, until they decided to use my near-perfect SAT score of 1550 to get Hannah, who had scraped together an 850, into an Ivy League school, Pranceton University. That was when I decided I was done playing nice. I called my adoptive parents.

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.

In my family, I'm the only son in my household who is raised on an installment plan. Because in this family, my parents refuse to raise a useless child. When my sister wants concert tickets, he just has to help Mom sweep the floor once, and he gets them. When my brother wants to install a gaming setup in her room, she just has to give Dad a quick shoulder massage. But me? Every time I need money, I have to sign an IOU. Over 18 years, I've accumulated a drawerful of IOUs, piled together like a thick ledger. And because asking for money feels like the ultimate humiliation, I gradually learn to live frugally. This summer, I work three jobs and scrape together enough to cover my college tuition. But when I reach the bus stop, I realize I've left my dorm key at home. There's nothing I can do but call Mom. "Mom, I left my key at home. Could you please bring it to me?" She pauses. "I'm busy. I'm making cookies for your brother right now. I'll mail them to you in a couple of days." The problem is… the "couple of days" soon turns into a whole week. On the seventh day, the package finally arrives. When I tear it open, I find a note alongside my key. "Miles Martinez owes Vanessa Leech ten dollars for postage, to be repaid by the end of the month." At the bottom, she even thoughtfully leaves a blank space for the date. I clutch the note as tears well up in my eyes, blurring the words on it. After a long while, I pull out my phone and send a message to my professor. "Professor, I've decided to accept the offer to study abroad. Please submit my name for the scholarship application." Once I settle every last debt, I'll walk away with a clean slate to chase a life that's mine and mine alone.

When my billionaire birth parents tried yet again to bring me home, I shook my head without hesitation. As someone practically born with dollar signs in her eyes, I loved money more than just about anything. But even I knew better than to walk straight into the drama of a filthy-rich family. “I may love money more than life itself, but there’s no way I’m stepping into that mess. Knowing my luck, I’d walk away without a dime and get screwed over by the fake heiress instead.” My parents immediately protested. “Xena has always been such a sweet, sensible girl. She’d be too busy spoiling you to ever hurt you.” Since they clearly didn’t believe me, I pulled a document from my pocket titled “Fake Heiress Payback Price List.” “Then sign this first. “If she plants something on me and accuses me of stealing, you owe me a car. “If she hurts herself and frames me for it, you owe me a house. “If she poisons or kidnaps me, I get the entire family fortune. That’s fair, right?” Dad laughed, clearly thinking I was being ridiculous, and signed it on the spot. “Fine. If any of that actually happens, I’ll pay up.” Sure enough, on my very first day home, the fake heiress burst into tears and accused me of stealing the diamond bracelet Mom had given her. My older brother jabbed a finger in my face and called me a classless brat, while my younger sister immediately started patting me down like she wanted to strip-search me. I smiled. Looks like I was about to make some easy money. Mom and Dad were just about to lecture me too when they suddenly remembered the price list I had made them sign. They froze. “Hold on. Nobody accuse her of anything yet. Check the bracelet for fingerprints first.”

When I was five, my elder sister, Mabel, lost the use of both legs saving me in a car accident. From that day on, there was one thing my parents said to me more than anything else. “You ruined Mabel’s life.” When I got into a top university, Mabel locked herself in her room and cried all night. My mother, eyes red from crying, tore my acceptance letter to pieces. “Wait until Mabel can walk again. Then you can go to college.” So I spent sixteen hours a day delivering food, saving every penny for Mabel’s rehabilitation. When my stomach pain became so bad I could barely stand, my parents accused me of being jealous of Mabel’s nutritional supplements and faking it for attention. I secretly went to the hospital. The diagnosis came back and showed that I had severe anemia, pelvic inflammatory disease and a stomach ulcer. The medication cost more than two hundred dollars. I did not have it. So I told myself I would get the medicine after I saved enough to buy Mabel a pair of knee braces. Then came the day of the torrential rain. Terrified of being late with a delivery, I ran a red light. A dump truck hit me and sent me flying. I lay there in the rain, still clutching the knee braces I had just bought. I never got the chance to hand them to Mabel myself.

The day I got the callback for my second interview, my mother, Sara Bingley, came home with two bags. "You're about to start your job for real, and that means dressing professionally. I bought you girls a suit each, one for each of you, fair and square." Molly Pitcher happily took her bag. Inside was a fitted, deep navy suit, sharp and clearly not cheap. What landed in my hands was an ill-fitting black suit pulled from the clearance rack, so oversized the sleeves swallowed the backs of my hands. Mom smiled and touched my cheek. "Cathy, you'll still grow. I bought it big on purpose. Give it two years, and it'll fit just right. I went to I don't know how many malls just to track down that black suit." She did love me, in her way. She knew my job required a black suit, and she really had gone to several malls to find one. But she'd forgotten I was already twenty-three. No amount of growing was going to fill out a suit that oversized and that cheaply made. Both daughters were her own flesh and blood, but Molly was plainly the one she doted on. The love she gave me came measured out in careful portions. The love she gave Molly overflowed. If that was how it was going to be, then from today on, I was done being the extra one in this family.

I had always been obedient. Whatever people told me to do, I did without question. When my wealthy biological parents finally brought me home, my adopted sister leaned close and whispered arrogantly, "I'm the one and only Saunders daughter. If you know what's good for you, leave on your own!" I obediently nodded. Then I turned around and ran straight into the traffic on the highway. My parents nearly lost their minds. They scrambled out of the car and dragged me back, their faces already pale with terror. My brother glared at me and warned in a low voice, "If you keep acting like this, I'll send you back to that hellhole." That night, I obediently locked myself inside a dog crate. When he found me, he was completely stunned. He gritted his teeth, dragged me out, and stared at me in disbelief. Later, my adopted sister pretended to be sick, and my brother forced me to donate blood to her. So, I obediently took the knife. Then, without hesitation, I cut into the artery in my wrist. My parents rushed in just in time to see it happen. They screamed and rushed over, pressing down on my wound. "Get a doctor! Hurry!" My brother's face turned pale too. But after a moment, he froze and tried to explain, "Dad, Mom, I only told her to donate blood to Hannah. I never told her to cut her wrist..." I blinked. He wasn't lying. He really hadn't taught me to do that. The people my parents had sent me to had. For five years, they had sent me away to those human traffickers to "teach me discipline." And during those five years, those people had taught me exactly how to obey.

I put my six-year-old daughter in my mother-in-law’s hands as I was busy with an overseas project. Every month, I would send her 20,000 dollars in allowance, not including holiday cash gifts. My mother-in-law would always talk about how well my daughter ate and slept during every video call. In the video, a feast was always laid before my daughter. So when her teacher claimed that she had fainted out of hunger during class, my first thought was that she must have called the wrong number. I rushed back home and headed straight to the hospital. The doctor said that my daughter was suffering from long-term malnutrition and her weight was far below the average. She also had severe post-traumatic stress disorder with suspected autism. The homeroom teacher looked begrudgingly at me with furrowed brows. “Ms. Mason, this isn’t the first time Natalie fainted out of hunger during class. “She only brings one cold plain bun to school for lunch every day. Sometimes, she doesn’t even have that bun. “Each time I ask her about things at home, she refuses to speak.” I was utterly confused by the teacher’s questions. How could my child go hungry when I was sending over 20,000 dollars in allowance every month?