Bias Redemption Short Stories & Novels

My wife, Janice Frost, was an interworld traveler. People like her weren't supposed to form attachments with anyone in another world. But she fell for me the moment she saw me. Every time her feelings stirred, it tore through her, like her soul was being ripped apart. She had endured that pain 99 times. Later, I was abducted and taken to North Kaman. They beat me every day, over and over. Right when I was about to break, I remembered the method Janice once taught me, a way to reach her across worlds. Somehow, I managed to use it. But instead of her voice alone, I heard her speaking with her mentor from the other side. "Janice, how could you contact a resistance group yourself and have them take Samuel? I thought you loved him." Janice's voice was cold and hard. "This ordeal was meant for Tim. I had to do this to save him. Samuel is the main protagonist of this world. He's protected by fate. Nothing will happen to him. Once this mission is done, I can stay in this timeline for good. When that happens, I'll make it up to him." My chest tightened until it felt like it might split open. When those people closed in on me again, I stopped resisting completely.

After getting tormented by electrical shocks for five years, I've contracted severe brain atrophy. Once the psychiatric hospital kicks me out, I rely on the posts that are recorded in my old Facebook account in order to survive. Rosalie Vaughn, my childhood friend and former girlfriend who has sworn to torture me till I die, takes her rich fiance, Sebastian Crowe, back to the old, rundown complex. The moment she sees me curling up on the moldy couch while clutching my phone tightly, she lets out a scoff. "Oh? Now that you've escaped from the hospital, are you still waiting for some rich woman's text? Weren't you very quick and decisive when you stole my life-saving money back then? Why are you still pretending to be some devoted man?" As soon as Rosalie's voice falls, she snatches my phone from my hands. After keying in the wrong password three times in a row, she chooses to recover my password. The moment she sees the security question, her mocking expression freezes momentarily. The question shows, "Who's the only one I've loved in this life?" I blink hazily, my eyes cloudy and dull. Then, I tug at Rosalie's sleeve. "Miss, do you know who she is? I remember I used to love someone with all my heart, but I think she locked me up in a psychiatric hospital." After that, I turn around and try to scavenge the trash can for a piece of expired bread just so I can offer it to the "nice lady".

After Mom stabbed Aunt Serena and was sent to prison, Aunt Serena became our new mother. The same Serena who used to “wrestle” with Dad in bed every afternoon at three o’clock. Everyone praised her for being kind and virtuous. They said she treated her husband’s children from his first marriage as if they were her own. She was practically the perfect stepmother. I believed them too. So when she told me there was a way to get to heaven and see Mom again, I believed her. I even carried along the baby brother she had just given birth to. And together, we followed her lie all the way to heaven.

My sister Brenda fell in love with Don Joseph Genovese because he saved her life once. She thought a man that dangerous had chosen her. Then she learned the truth. Joseph had only pulled her out of that riot because she looked like his wife, Maria, when Maria was young. Any sane woman would have walked away. Brenda decided Maria had to die. She tracked Maria’s schedule, planned a hit-and-run, and meant to play the heroic bystander after putting Joseph’s wife in the ground. If Maria was gone, Brenda believed she could take her place. In my first life, I stopped her. I knocked her out before she could make her move. I begged her to understand that Joseph was not some lovesick man from her mafia novels. He was a Don. If he found out, he would not just punish her. He would burn our whole family with her. Brenda cried. She nodded. She promised she understood. That night, she poured paraquat into my water glass. As I died, she whispered, “You ruined my shot at the big life, Sharon. So I ruined yours.” Then I opened my eyes again. I was back on the day she made her move. This time, I stayed where I was.

After creating a social media account for my newborn daughter, Natalie Graham, I made her first post. "Welcome to the world, Nattie." Three minutes later, a notification pops up. "Mom, I miss you." I frown. It has to be one of my friends messing with me. Then, another comment appears. "Mom, why did you die when I was one month old? Aunt Wanda said it was because I was naughty. She said you jumped off a roof because you hated me. "I'm five now, and I've been really, really good. Aunt Wanda said I had to fall down the stairs one more time for Dad to come home. Will I get to see you too, Mom?" My mind goes blank. My fingers tremble so badly I can barely type. Wanda Levine is my husband Zane Graham's secretary. The first time he mentioned her was while he was peeling an orange for me. "Wanda was one of the students my family sponsored," he casually starts. "She's done well for herself. After graduating, she earned a spot in the executive office." The room is perfectly warm, yet a chill runs straight through me. Without thinking, I quickly fire off a reply. "Don't go anywhere near the stairs!" Her response leaves me speechless.

When I'm eight years old, my dad gets remarried. Then, when my stepmother gets pregnant, she decides I'm an eyesore. Dad shoves a train ticket into my hand. "I can't afford to raise you anymore. Your aunt's working down south. Go to her." I don't even remember what my aunt, Ava Shore, looks like anymore. All I know is that she left home at 18 and cut contact with Dad years ago. I spend a day and a night on that train, getting more scared by the minute. What if Aunt Ava doesn't want me, either? When I finally step off the train and exit the station, I'm greeted by an MPV. The door swings open, and a woman with big, blown-out curls and sunglasses steps out in high heels. "So you're the daughter my brother decided he didn't want?" I nod, clutching the straps of my duffel in a death grip. She crouches and studies me carefully. "Your hair's a mess. You look like some neglected stray." Before I can respond, a boy about my age pops his head out from behind her. "Mom, she looks awful." Aunt Ava immediately reaches back and twists his ear. "Say that again if you have the guts. If anyone at your school even thinks about bullying her, I'm coming for you first." The boy bares his teeth and hisses in pain, but he still reaches out and takes my duffel from me. A warm southern breeze washes over me, and tears form in my eyes. Suddenly, I don't feel so scared anymore.

After learning the silver poison had sunk deep into my heart with no cure left, I secretly returned to the pack I'd left five years ago. I just wanted to see Leon Frost one last time. The one who was now their Alpha. Instead, I walked right into news that he was about to mate with his new chosen, Shelly Davis. Worse—they caught me. My mother had me in a wheelchair. Leon's eyes flickered with something unreadable when he saw me. He didn't speak. But Shelly sure did. "Well. Look who finally crawled back. Five years and you look like hell. Can't even walk anymore?" Her voice dripped with mockery. I held back the tears and tugged at my sleeve, hiding the decay spreading across my arms. "It's nothing. Just tripped and hurt my leg." Shelly's laugh cut through the air again. "Since Leon and I are holding our bonding ceremony, you should come witness it. Ten days from now. Full moon night." I kept my face calm and forced a smile. "Can't make it. I'm heading somewhere far away." Then I glanced at Leon—his face still empty, still silent—and signaled my mother to wheel me home. The further he got, the harder the tears fell. Leon, I wasn't lying. I have less than ten days. Before your ceremony even starts, I'll be gone.

Moving day. My parents passed out keys like candy—one for my brother, one for his wife, one for my younger brother's girlfriend, even one for Maria the housekeeper. Everyone except me. No explanation ever came. Not even as I dragged my suitcase out the front door, my family's laughter fading behind me. If a house had no place for me, it wasn't worth staying in. Three days later, at the airport, about to board my flight, I spotted them. Panic. All over their faces.

My twin sister Celeste and I shared the same face, but little else. She believed in forgiveness. I believed anyone who hurt her should pay. Three years ago, Celeste was set to marry Adrien, Crown Prince of Valeria. But an old succession law forbade identical twins from both retaining legal identities once one entered the royal bloodline. So I chose my sister. My parents staged my death, erased Cassandra Montclair from public records, and promised to protect Celeste after I disappeared. I left her my fortune and the Crescent Guard, then vanished to the northern border. I believed my death had bought her safety. Then our dormant twin bond suddenly returned—and pain told me Celeste was being tortured. I reached the capital to find our cousin Vivienne wearing Celeste’s crown beside Celeste’s husband. My parents watched her coronation from the front row. Celeste had vanished. Inside the palace, everyone mistook me for the disgraced former queen. Servants wore her jewelry. Adrien dismissed every plea she had made as jealousy. Even our parents threatened to disown her. They said her wicked sister had died long ago. They said Cassandra would be ashamed of her. Surrounded by royal guards, I picked up a sword and turned the hilt three times—the way I always had before protecting my sister. My mother went pale. My father staggered back. “Cassandra?” I raised the blade. “Now that you recognize me, tell me where my sister is.”

At the auction, my fiancé's secretary raised the bidding paddle twice on his behalf. The first time, she outbid Lady Margaret Vesta by a single silver coin, snatching away the emerald brooch meant as a coming-of-age gift for her daughter. She brandished the house seal of my fiancé, Cassian Severus, with a brazen grin. "Her husband can afford to keep a woman on the side, but he won't pay what he owes Cassian. I'm just collecting a little interest for him. What's the problem?" Cassian thought I was still at sea. He just smiled and told her not to be so blunt in front of a crowd next time. The second time, she set the seal into the gold tray, activating an irrevocable, open-ended bid. This time, she was after my mother's heirloom: a silver dolphin necklace. She sat in the seat that should have been mine, wearing the custom crimson gown I had paid for, and looked across half the hall at me. "It belonged to a dead woman. Anyone can wear it. Lady Helena has plenty of jewelry already. Why not let me have it?" Cassian still had his back to me. He didn't know I was already back.

A month before our wedding, I couldn't sleep. I picked up my fiancé's phone and found a password-protected album. I hesitated for a moment, then opened it. The album was packed with hundreds of photos, all of the same person. There were shots of her posing at Yosemite, drinking coffee outside the office, even one of her... asleep. My heart went cold. I didn't just know this woman. I knew her well. She was my best friend, Mia Porter. Tears were already streaming down my face. Eight years together. I'd been by Julian Hale's side from when he was a photography assistant all the way to becoming an established photojournalist. He never once took a photo of me, and even when I asked, he always refused. I thought he was sticking to some kind of professional principle. Turns out, the person he wanted to photograph just wasn't me. Just then, my phone buzzed. An account I'd turned on post notifications for had updated. Mia had updated her Instagram: "My favorite photographer finally agreed to take me to France! Can't wait for all the gorgeous shots. Any ideas for cute matching outfits with a European vibe?" I sat there in a daze for a long time before I quietly got up, slipped off my engagement ring, and booked a flight home. Eight years. I was finally free from walking on eggshells, terrified of crossing his so-called principles. Finally free from waiting at home, ready to cook him a hot meal the moment he walked through the door. If there was no room for me behind his lens, then I would step into a world without him and live a life that was truly my own.

I'd been with Leo Blackwood for five years. But we'd never once made it through a mating ceremony. Every time we were about to seal the bond, something would happen with Linda—his adopted sister. And every single time, Leo would leave me behind. This time, he swore he'd planned everything down to the last detail. Promised he wouldn't miss it. I waited five days and five nights—because I wanted to tell him I was pregnant. He never showed. Instead, I got attacked by rogues. Got infected with wolfsbane because of it. At the very last moment, I called Leo. It was Linda who picked up. She put the video on, and that's when I saw it—Leo and Linda, right in the middle of some celebration. "Freya." Her voice dripped with mock sympathy. "A mating ceremony? That little thing has failed so many times already—don't you ever give up? Today is my big day. Leo said nothing—absolutely nothing—can compare to what I have going on." Then she hung up. My hand went to my stomach. My body was growing cold. Sorry, little one. I never got the chance to give you a happy home.

I was Sofia De Luca, the only biological daughter of Marco De Luca, the most powerful Don. Then my parents adopted Celeste De Luca as my younger sister, and everything changed. My birthday party could be cancelled because she threw a fit. My place at the elite academy went to her. Even the ruby brooch my grandmother left me was taken away because she said she liked it. On nothing but Celeste's word, my parents branded me a traitor to the De Luca family and personally handed me over to a rival family as a hostage. I endured every kind of torment there. They toured the world with their adopted daughter and lived in luxury. They forgot me completely. It was only when Celeste finally caused a disaster too big to bury that they remembered I existed. But once I was actually dead, the regret drove them out of their minds. If there really is another life, I have only one wish. I hope they learn how to be decent parents. But I do not want to be their daughter again.

My mom passed away when I was twelve, leaving everything she had to me. My dad cried at her bedside, swearing he'd never remarry and that he'd take care of me no matter what. But six months later, my stepmother moved into the villa my mom had left me, with her daughter. She told me, "I'll love you like you're my own." It didn't take long before my room, my clothes, everything, was taken over by her daughter. I got shipped off to a boarding school and was only allowed home on weekends. That went on for four years. After my father had been away on business for months, her abuse only got worse. She even tried to make me take the fall for her daughter. When I refused, she locked me in the basement and left me there to die. I fought with everything I had, found the old phone my mom had left behind, and called my grandfather. On the other end of the line, his voice was pure fury: "No one messes with a granddaughter of the Moretti family!"