เรื่องสั้นแนว Familial Bond และนิยาย Bias Revenge

Before my wife went into labor, a nurse handed me a stack of consent forms. Buried among them was an optional prenatal paternity screening offered through St. Briar Medical Center's new genetic-services program. I'd barely started signing when my mother-in-law, Margaret, charged at me and slapped me across the face. "You monster! My daughter is risking her life to give you a child, and you want a DNA test?" Before I could explain, the hospital-room door flew open. Vanessa pressed a pair of medical scissors against her neck, her eyes bloodshot. "Daniel, I've given you seven years of my life. You know who this baby's father is. Why would you humiliate me like this?" When I saw the thin line of blood on her throat, my heart broke, and I dropped to my knees. I tore up the testing form and ordered my attorney to draft an unconditional agreement transferring assets to the baby. To comfort her, I drove across Aldercrest searching for her favorite honey-lavender shortbread. But when I returned to the hospital room, I heard laughter inside. "Vanessa, thank God we reacted quickly. If he'd signed that testing form, everything would've been over." "Why worry? Daniel's an idiot. I only have to cry, and he believes me." Then a familiar male voice said, "Once the birth certificate gives the child the Raleigh name, everything Daniel owns will belong to the three of us." The words froze me outside the door. I turned away and called my attorney. "Cancel the agreement. Then hire an investigator and uncover everything." At the baby's welcome reception, I would personally present Vanessa with the gift she deserved.

A category 5 hurricane has just torn through town, and Mom is out in the housing complex clearing floodwater when a 30-pound dead frond from a royal palm crashes down and shatters her spine. Four hours of emergency surgery later, the doctors tell me she'll never walk again. I storm into the mediation room with her bloodstained paperwork. The property manager, James Kendrick, is sitting there sipping a glass of scotch. When I demand the management company covers her medical bills, he refuses, then slams five photographs down in front of me. "Kid, you want to be real careful about throwing accusations around." He lets out a sigh, all patronizing and fatherly. "We had caution tape up before the storm. We set out traffic cones. Your mother walked right past all of it to dig through the trash. "That's trespassing and damaging the landscaping. Who's she going to blame but herself?" He slides a liability waiver across the table and tells me to sign. "Sign this, and I'll be generous enough to lend you 5,000 dollars out of my own pocket. Try to fight this, and our legal team will bury you." I look at his smug face, then pick up the photos from the floor. The caution tape is there, sure enough. But the flower bed next to it is full of azaleas in bloom, a variety that only flowers in April. It's the middle of July. I tear the waiver to shreds right in front of him. "Using photos from two months ago as your proof, Mr. Kendrick? I think you're forgetting something. "My family runs the shop right across from the complex entrance." Then I pull out my phone and open the cloud backup for our storefront's 24-hour HD security cameras.

After the SAT, Mom and Dad give Henry Simpson, my brother, a Rolex. I, on the other hand, receive nothing but the missing admission ticket. Dad says, "I found your admission ticket under the couch last night, Gavin. It's too bad you couldn't take the SAT with Henry this year, but don't beat yourself up because of this. You should just treat this admission ticket as a lesson to be more careful when you retake the SAT next year." The admission ticket before me carries a subtle scent, a smell that belongs exclusively to Mom and Dad's closet. Dad continues, "You have nothing to worry about, Gavin. I'll give you a watch too once you retake the SAT next year and get accepted into a good university." I laugh under my breath in disbelief. They are telling me to retake the SAT, not knowing that I have already received guaranteed admission to Crestvale University. I only registered for the SAT this time to accompany Henry and go through the motions so that he wouldn't feel insecure or mess up his test scores. If Mom and Dad are willing to hide my admission ticket for Henry's sake, then I no longer care about the so-called family bond between us.

There were two famous good-for-nothings the gods loved to gossip about. One was me, Vera, the little princess of the Star Court, with most of my twin starblood ruined, good for nothing but eating, drinking, and playing. The other was my twin brother Orson. His life-fire was broken, and he was unable to stand being anywhere with too many people. But our eldest brother, Theron, was the next King of the Gods. Our second brother, Drake, was the Dragon Sovereign, who held every gold vein of the dragon clan in his hand. Our elder sister, Sylvia, was the heir to the Sacred Spring, the one art that could rekindle a dying life-fire. Our mother was the last High Priestess of the Court of Chaos, born able to carry different bloodlines of the gods. The day the star sea collapsed, Orson and I gave up most of our twin starblood to mend our siblings' fates. They lived. They became the three strongest elders the gods had ever known. And Orson and I became two cripples. Our days were simple: mooch meals off our eldest brother, spend our second brother's gold, and wait for our sister to feed us. That was until my sweet tooth carried me to a banquet thrown for Circe, the woman everyone said would become our eldest brother's bride. At that banquet, Circe, the daughter of House Siren, held up one blurry memory echo and insisted it was me who had climbed into Lord Theron's carriage the night before, stealing her betrothal to the Divine Court. I explained patiently, "You've got the wrong person. That was my brother. And this is my brother too." Circe exploded on the spot. She used her power to cripple me all over again, and nearly killed Orson. "One shameless slut, one useless idiot. A match made in heaven." It wasn't until my brother and I lay barely breathing that my three siblings tore House Siren's wards to shreds, and the whole realm of the gods shook.

For my son's birthday, I booked his favorite mecha-themed hotel. But when we checked in, the hotel changed our room at the last minute. After my son drank from one of their bottled waters, he found pieces of a torn colored contact lens inside. I immediately called the front desk. "Because of your hotel's poor management, my son had just drunk water with pieces of a torn contact lens inside. I want to speak with your manager." A man answered from the other side, but he simply yawned and said annoyingly, "Why are you asking for a manager in the middle of the night? Do you have proof? I've seen plenty of men like you. You're just freeloaders trying to get the room comped. Stop making a fuss!" After he hung up, my expression darkened. I'd let them know if I was a freeloader.

In my past life, my parents forced me to jump into a freezing lake just to retrieve a limited-edition watch dropped by the fake heir, Carter Reed. It left me with a 104-degree fever. I lay trapped in my bed, drifting in and out of consciousness. Meanwhile, my parents flew the family to Miami for a vacation, just to cheer Carter up. As I lay dying, trembling uncontrollably, I managed to call my dad, Matthew Reed, only to be met with his sharp, impatient voice. "Tyler, your brother is finally in a good mood. Can’t you be considerate for once? Just find some meds and deal with it yourself, okay?" Left with no other choice, I forced my rubbery legs out of bed and dragged myself downstairs for medicine. My feet slipped, I tumbled down the stairs, and died right there on the spot. When my eyes snapped open again, I was right back on the very first day of summer break before senior year. Carter was waving that watch in my face. He leaned in close, whispering with a smirk, "You're gonna go get it for me, right? Dad said brothers are supposed to help each other." This time, before he could react, I snatched the watch straight out of his hand and hurled it into the center of the lake with everything I had. "Screw you, Carter. Screw this family. I'm out!"

Everyone envied my parents. They said my mom and dad were young at heart, open-minded, free-spirited, and brave enough to chase their dream of making it as a band. What they did not know was that my parents' freedom came at the cost of my misery. They barely paid any attention to me while I was growing up. Whenever I was hungry, I ate at my uncle Connor's house. When I got sick, I dealt with it on my own. After struggling through more than a decade, I finally made it into college. But the full scholarship of 200,000 dollars I had just received was secretly transferred out of my account by my parents. Their reason was simple—their band desperately needed a new sound system. When I demanded an explanation, my dad casually said, "Lucas, don't get so worked up. We only did this to help you become more independent. Once our band makes it big and we start getting paid for gigs, we'll pay you back double." My mom nodded in agreement. "Exactly. Just because we had you doesn't mean we don't get to have our own lives. You can't be so selfish. Just think of it as helping us achieve our dream." At that moment, I finally realized how absurd it all was. If they loved this hands-off style of parenting so much, then from now on, I would treat them the same way.

Five years after Liam DeLuise went bankrupt and skipped town, he suddenly returned, richer than ever. While I was waiting in line at the hospital pharmacy to pick up lifesaving medication, he kidnapped my eight-year-old son, Teddy Molson. He called me on video. I immediately recognized the abandoned industrial park on the west side of town behind him. On the screen, Teddy, who had a heart condition, was suspended over a pool of water inside an abandoned warehouse. His skin had turned purple from the cold. Liam sneered into the camera. “You really are one hell of a friend, Dave! When I went bankrupt, you refused to help me and even stole my woman! Bet you never thought I’d make it back on top, did you? “Now, I’m going to make you feel what it’s like to lose the person you love most!” He raised the metal pipe, ready to break Teddy’s knee with it. My eyes burned with panic as I screamed at the screen. “Don’t touch him, Liam! He’s your son!”

The day the exam rankings are released and I claim the top spot is also my older sister's birthday. During the birthday party, everyone asks what she wishes for. She turns her head and looks straight at my fiance, her red lips curving into a smile. "I want first place. Can you give it to me, Professor Howard?" The man lowers his eyes, saying nothing. The next day, my name disappears from the top of the rankings. After that, I fail to place five times in a row. When I confront my fiance, he simply hands me a slice of sponge cake and says, "Your sister has it hard. If she can't place first at Imperial Academy five consecutive times, she'll be forced into an arranged marriage with that crippled prince. As for you, you'll have other chances in the future." What he doesn't know is that I have no future left to wait for. As an illegitimate daughter, my engagement only exists because my mother sacrificed her life to secure it for me. Now, my mother is gone. And because my sister falls in love with my fiance, she makes my life miserable. To keep up appearances, my father allows my sister to propose a wager before the family council. If she can remain the academy's top-ranked student for five consecutive years, she will be allowed to take my place in the marriage. For that reason, I study by candlelight night after night, terrified of losing my fiance. But now, I rub the thick calluses on my palms. With a bitter laugh, I accept my fate.

On my 24th birthday, an app suddenly appears on all the other digital devices in my family except my phone. The one inside that app is another version of me, another Cordelia Winchester. But she's so much better at everything than I am. Mom's bakery has been in the red for three years. "Cordelia" casually tweaks one recipe, and the cakes sell out that same day. Dad has failed to earn his promotion three times. "Cordelia" revises his presentation, and the very next day, his boss grants his promotion. My fiance, Chase Jensen's company is about to run out of cash. "Cordelia" spends ten minutes reworking his pitch deck, and the investors immediately put in another 20 million dollars. From then on, Mom starts asking her how to develop every new dessert. Dad prints out screenshots of everything she says. Even when Chase chooses an engagement ring, he asks her opinion first. On my 25th birthday, before we even cut the cake, Mom suddenly stares at the app and asks, "Does she really have to stay inside the phone?" Dad lowers his voice. "Is there any way to bring her here for real?" Chase taps open customer support. [Apply for a parallel-life exchange?] Customer support replies, [After the exchange, the Cordelia from your world will be sent to the other world. Confirm exchange?] They barely hesitate. I watch as they hit "confirm", my nails digging into my palms and drawing blood. I force a strained smile. "Since you guys adore her so much, I hope you don't regret this." The next second, a red line of notification appears on the screen. [Exchange sequence initiated. Countdown: 7 days.]

After high school, my brother, John Garrett, and my childhood friend, Ivan Jeffson, take me on a trip. But we end up stranded on a deserted island after a plane crash. In our third year on the island, I accidentally discover surveillance cameras hidden in the trees. Startled, I lose my footing and tumble down the cliff, falling into a large pool at a luxury villa. Inside the villa, a special effects artist is applying fake bruises to John's face. Helen Burch, another girl who had been on the same flight and stranded on the island with us, is lying in my parents' arms. They sit on the couch, watching the video playing on the giant screen. In the video, I am starving, but I still give Helen the only fish I catch that month. After three years of relying on each other for survival, I have long considered her my own sister. My parents gently tap Helen's nose and say, "You don't have to worry about being bullied by your sister anymore, right? You two have become closer than ever." John carefully asks, "Can we move on to the next step and bring Helen home then?" Helen bites her lip and nods. Ivan, whose leg is supposedly broken, strides down the stairs and says delightedly, "It's a good thing I held back and didn't tell Nina the truth." It turns out Helen is my biological sister, who had been taken away by our nanny right after birth. The whole ordeal on the island is nothing more than an elaborate ruse to bring her home. Thinking about everything I have endured over the past three years, I nearly break down. Just as I am about to rush inside, a line of text suddenly appears before my eyes. [Congratulations, Host. You have unlocked the final stage of the Favoritism Mission! Would you like to accumulate enough favoritism points to return to the real world?]

Eight years ago, I was transported into this post-apocalyptic power fantasy novel as the same-named expendable nobody. I had the ability to create a large-scale radiation shield that could block zombies. I was the only S-Rank ability user in the entire colony. But because my younger brother, Samuel Grant, failed to awaken his ability, my only purpose became providing him with "upgrade materials." I tried to fight against the story and refused to hand over my crystal core. But the story's inertia twisted everyone's minds. My parents accused me of working with the Zombie King just so they could forcefully transplant my crystal core into Samuel. My ex-wife, Chloe Carter, went even further. While I was unconscious, she personally cut open my chest and took half of my crystal core. I survived. But my spine was severely damaged. My ability circuits were destroyed. I became a cripple who could never stand again. After I was released from prison, I could only work at a chemical protection laundry plant on the outer edge of the colony. Then, a mutant zombie horde carrying extreme radiation surrounded the colony. The old shield generator was burned out by the radiation. Suddenly, my entire family knelt in the dirty wastewater and begged me. "Ethan, you're the only one who can manually guide the remaining power in your ability to repair the shield! You have to save Samuel! He's still fighting on the front lines!" Sitting in my wheelchair, I pointed at the eight-inch scar across my chest. Then I pointed at my withered legs. "The crystal core is inside Samuel's body. My broken spine is buried in the mud under your feet. I can't even stand anymore. And you want me to go into the radiation zone? Are you hoping to watch me die?"

I have a severe alcohol allergy. One drop can kill me. As the real son the family had only just found, I came home certain I would finally have my father's love. What I found was that he only had eyes for Tristan Ashmore, the stand-in, the son who wasn't. To prove to the board that I wasn't some spineless nobody raised out in the country, my father ordered me to a dinner that would decide the future of the company. At the table, I tried to get by on a cup of tea. Tristan and my stepmother took it out of my hands and set down a full glass of high-proof liquor. "Dad's giving you a chance here! "Show a little backbone. Don't let him down." Tristan smiled like he'd never done a thing wrong in his life. From the head of the table, my father watched me coldly and raised his own glass. "If I'm still your father, you'll drink that and win us this contract." I closed my eyes and swallowed it. My airway closed. It felt like drowning on dry land. As I went down I saw the disgust in my father's face, and then my soul came loose from my body. And even then I was sorry. I'm sorry, Dad. I embarrassed you again. I watched him shout that I was faking. I watched them leave my body in the private room. When the last of it was gone, a voice came out of the emptiness. "Heaven has taken pity on your suffering, and a reader from another world has been sent to turn your story around. "If he can carry you to the final chapter alive, he'll bring you back."

After I quit my job to become a full-time househusband, my wife, Brooke Lowell, left me with nothing but a bank card capped at 1,000 dollars a month. She said children had to be raised with hardship to grow up strong, and was always worried I might secretly give our daughter special treatment. But 1,000 dollars was nowhere near enough to cover a household's monthly expenses. Every time the kindergarten asked for nutrition fees, I could only swallow my pride and beg for leniency. "She's just a child. Why does she need that much money? You've got some nerve, living so comfortably on 1,000 a month." I had thought Brooke's harshness was meant to temper our daughter's character. That illusion lasted until I asked Brooke for 300 dollars to buy clothes for our daughter's Children's Day performance. What I received instead was humiliation and ridicule from everyone. Brooke accused me of acting like a spoiled rich kid, wasting money on unnecessary clothes. My mother-in-law complained that I dressed too poorly, like a beggar bringing shame to the family. Even my daughter blamed me for embarrassing her, saying I had ruined her Children's Day and damaged her props. I bowed my head, apologized, and paid compensation. Only then did I discover that my bank card had been frozen. The very next moment, Brooke's crush posted on social media about his son receiving a luxury mansion. 'Already a house-owner at three! Who'd believe she's not his birth mother?' Only then did I understand. People who truly loved someone would never be stingy when spending on them.

During the Christmas holiday, a fire suddenly broke out at my family’s factory. My younger brother, who had gone there to inspect operations, was trapped inside the burning building. As the captain of the fire department, I calmly ordered my team not to go in to rescue him. My mother, Susan Tatcher, and wife, Willa Sutton, begged me desperately to go in and save my brother, but I pulled out my phone and started playing Poker. My mother was on the verge of breaking down. “Zayne Luke, hurry in and save your brother! He’s so young. He can’t endure this kind of suffering!” My wife was also pacing anxiously. “Honey, with a fire this complicated, only you can save Mors!” After all, this was my family’s factory. No one knew the escape routes better than I did. However, I turned a deaf ear to them and leisurely topped up my token balance by 100 dollars to keep playing. Having no other choice, Mom splashed cold water on a thin blanket and prepared to rush into the fire. I blocked the key rescue entrance. “What’s the rush? Wait until I finish this round.”

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.

For Children's Day, I help source and purchase gifts for my son's class. I not only keep the budget to a minimum, but I also manage to get expensive toys that are way over budget for them. During checkout, because my son, Harry Chandler, has grabbed a limited edition toy robot, the PTA representative, Darren Larson, shouts at me, "Jordan Chandler, are you trying to tell me that you didn't embezzle the class funds for that 500-dollar toy robot?" The class teacher, Kevin Brown, and the manager of the toy store, Florence Young, immediately pause in their footsteps. I feel dozens of pairs of eyes staring at me in the mall. Darren complains animatedly, "You were trying to pay for that 500-dollar toy with the class funds, basically using everyone's money to spoil your son, weren't you? "Both Mr. Brown and the manager are right here, but you still dare to pocket our money? I can't imagine how much of the class funds you must've used to line your own pockets behind our backs! I daresay, for someone with no morals like you, the children you raise will be thieves in the future too!" Darren glares maliciously at me, looking me up and down. Even Kevin is giving me a look of suspicion and disdain. Instead of arguing with him, I turn to the cashier and ask in a calm tone, "My family owns this mall. Do I need to pay for a toy I just grabbed off the shelf?"

"Your brother's gone to Korea. Make sure you send him an extra $300 next month for his loan repayment." I was swamped at my desk when I received that text. My mind went blank. I asked Dad how much my brother had borrowed, and he casually replied: "The surgery costs $83,000, but you only have $75,000 in your bank account, so we took out an $8,000 loan for two years." Seeing my brother's selfie from a luxury hospital room in Seoul, posted on his social media, a chill ran through me. That was my life savings, scraped together by selling my car and pulling all-nighters for three months! Perhaps sensing my emotion, my father sent another text: "Put off your treatment for now. Once your brother becomes handsome, he can snag a rich woman, and then you'll have all the money you need for treatment." Without another word, I immediately called the bank to report the loss and filed a police report for theft. My bank account was instantly frozen. Within days, my brother, who was kicked off the operating table because the payment couldn't go through, called me and begged. His face half-stitched, he was on the verge of a breakdown.

The day my mother, Dahlia Moone, gives birth to my younger brother, she goes into obstructed labor and suffers a catastrophic hemorrhage. My CEO father, Graham Kovane, orders every doctor and nurse out of the delivery room because his mistress, Selena Langford, says, "Her crying is giving me a headache." That day, both Mom and my unborn brother die. Not long after, I'm framed for a mistake I never made, driven out of the family, and left to survive on the streets. Living on the kindness of strangers, I fight my way up from nothing. Step by step, I rise until I become the head of Rockstone Tech, controlling a fortune worth billions. On the day of the annual evaluation for promoting interns to full-time employees, five candidate files are placed on my desk. My assistant, Ingrid Nelson, taps the file at the top of the stack, her voice full of admiration. "Ms. Campbell, Monica Kovane is exceptionally capable. Her performance has earned full marks from every department manager." I open Monica's profile, and my eyes stop on the family information section. Even in the worst of times, I will never forget those two names on the paper. After a long silence, I tell Ingrid to bring all five interns into my office. The employment contracts are handed out one by one. When only the last person remains, I look up and meet her confident gaze. She's almost certain the position is already hers. Calmly, I slide a termination letter across the desk. "Unfortunately, Ms. Kovane, you didn't pass."

“Mr. Mike Atkinson, the payment on your loan is past due.” The collection agent spoke in a flat voice, as though she were reading out just another routine notice. However, I had never taken out a loan in my life. After pressing her for details, I learned that my parents had used my personal information and credit history to take out a loan in my name for my younger brother. They had forged my signature on every document. I did not immediately drive back to my parents’ house and confront them. I left the family group chat. I returned to my small apartment and spent a long time thinking about what to do. When I finally called home, my mother burst into tears and berated me. “You’re his older brother. What’s wrong with taking on a little debt for him?” I ended the call, switched my phone to silent mode, and stared out at the night. I had nothing more to say to her.