Contos sobre Familial Bond e Romances com Bias e Female Solidarity

I, Nora Jackson, was the fake heiress of the Jackson family, a billionaire family. When the biological daughter, Chloe Jackson, returned, she played the sweet sister act in public. Behind closed doors? She would squeeze out tears to our parents, claiming I looked down on her humble background. Furious, I dumped salt into her morning milk. She retaliated by shredding over a hundred of my designer gowns. For six months, we waged outright war, each praying the other would get kicked out. Then came my birthday bash. I walked in to find my boyfriend, Julian West, playing a mouth-to-mouth shot game with my best friend, Janet Fraser. I slapped them both. Julian kicked me so hard and cracked my ribs. He grabbed me by the hair, dragging my face into the floor while humming with a cigarette hanging from his lips. “Still playing high-society princess? You’re just a fake.” Janet smirked down at me. “Bow to me ten times and apologize. Then we’ll call it even.” Desperate, I looked over at my older brother, Ethan Jackson. He just swirled his glass of red wine. “Be realistic, Nora,” he said coldly. “In your position, you can’t afford to offend a single person in this room.” Just as I gave up hope, the real heiress, Chloe Jackson, strolled in with a hundred armed bodyguards, shutting down the entire hall. She glared at me first. “Pathetic.” Then she stepped up and slapped Ethan eighteen times in the face. She pulled out a buyout agreement, tossing it onto the table. “Julian West, right? I just bought out your family’s entire company. Go on your knees now or enjoy living your life on the street.”

At four months pregnant, I went to pick up my prenatal test results with my husband, Aiden Carter, who was an OB-GYN. The smile at the corner of his lips froze the moment he saw the report. Without a word, he grabbed my hand and tried to schedule an abortion. I stood there in shock. The attending physician, Dr. Marianne Cole, had just told me the baby was perfectly healthy! I tore myself free and demanded, "Why do you want me to get an abortion?!" He didn’t answer and had already scheduled the procedure. When I tried to run, he yanked my arm tighter. "There's no way we are having this child!" Clutching my belly, I hurried to call my parents, who were both OB-GYNs themselves. Dad, who had always doted on me, raised his fist, aiming straight for my stomach. Mom’s face twisted in horror, shaking her head wildly. "No, this won’t work. It can’t be like this." "Find a few men. Lock Clara Hart in with them." I didn’t understand why they were so desperate to destroy my child. All I wanted was to escape. Instead, they locked me inside a pitch-black room. When I felt the blood trickling down my legs, I knew my baby was gone. Mom came smiling to fetch me. I fought, demanding to know why they had done this to me. Without responding, she turned around and sent me straight to Ravenwood Asylum. I was tortured to death there. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the very day I went to collect my prenatal report. Aiden looked at me, his face glowing with joy. "Baby, this is our first child. I can’t wait for the day he’s born."

For three years straight, my father had taken the whole family on a Christmas trip. This year, even my newly-engaged fiancé tagged along. Everyone except me. "Chloe, Legal's swamped at year-end. You'd better stay and work—keep an eye on the house for us while you're at it. We won't book a ticket or hotel for you." My father's excuse sounded perfectly reasonable. Beside him, my mother and sister were already chatting about the snow-capped Alps, not a flicker of doubt that anything was off. And my fiancé, Jack, was helping them load luggage, grinning as he said he'd be the perfect German translator for the trip. For three years, they'd always found a reason to leave me behind. And for three years, I'd caved. Not this time. I didn't argue. I just watched them drive off. The moment the car disappeared, I walked into HR and dropped my resignation. Half a month later, my family flew back—only to find themselves locked out of the apartment. Key cards were all disabled. Security guards from the company were blocking the entrance. My father called, over and over. I didn't pick up. I just sent one message: "I quit. The company took back the executive apartment. Oh, and the engagement's off too. Happy New Year!"

Years ago, a witch cast a prophecy over me. She said I was the cursed wolf, an abomination who would bring the pack to ruin. My parents believed it completely. Locked me in the cellar that same night and left me to starve. My older sister, Sia, fought like hell to keep me alive. When the pack came for me, she stood in front of every single one of them, crying as she tried to shield me. "She's not an abomination. She's never hurt anyone." Because of those words, when the Alpha fell for her but still feared me, that so-called abomination, I volunteered for exile. Walked away from the pack forever. Before I left, I gave Sia a charm. Told her, if anyone ever laid a hand on her, just speak into it, and I'd come running. No questions asked. Three years later, I had clawed my way to Alpha of the Wintercrest Pack through sheer power. I was about to tell Sia the news when her distress signal hit me. My blood went cold. I raced back to my old pack, only to walk right into the Alpha's covenant ceremony with another woman. That smug witch was up there, chanting blessings over the happy couple. My parents stood by, grinning. And Sia? Nowhere. I scanned the crowd again. Still nothing. My chest tightened. Let me be crystal clear. If anything happened to Sia, I would give them a real abomination to fear.