Familial Bond Biological Family Short Stories & Novels

My mother, a judge, wanted her intern-lawyer son to get his footing in the profession. So in the murder trial where I stood falsely accused, she threw fairness out the window and ruled in favor of the plaintiff's attorney: her own younger son. I begged her to be impartial. It was my last chance to clear my name. But she only snapped at me impatiently. "Your brother's just starting out. What's the harm in helping him? It's not a death sentence. A few years in prison won't kill you!" Later, when the victim's furious family stabbed me to death in the street, my mother lost her mind overnight.

After being rushed to the hospital and brought back from another relapse, I vaguely heard my family arguing. "This is already the second time this month. When will it end?! Why isn't he dead yet?!" "Mom, don't say that! I've decided, I'll start working right after graduation to earn money!" My dad scolded my older brother, "But you have such good grades. You've already secured a spot for postgraduate studies. You should keep studying, let us take care of the money!" I lay on the bed, crying silently. After three years of being tormented by illness, I couldn't keep going anymore. This time, I chose to let go.

Queenie Zeller, my sister, gets mad at Mom and Dad and sets off a gas canister in the house. They all make it out of the house unharmed, while I suffer severe burns all over my body and lose one of my legs to amputation since I'm fast asleep inside. Mom and Dad spend all day crying their eyes out, right up until Queenie comes home with a boy and a paternity test report. Overnight, I am reduced to the fake heir who's accidentally switched at birth. Just like that, half of the family's guilt vanishes. I barely scrape by until I turn 18. They all head out to the rightful heir's birthday banquet, leaving me lying in bed, twisting and writhing in pain. Mom and Dad are away on a business trip, so no one has helped me change positions for a long time. It has gotten so bad that the wounds on my back have become infested with maggots, making the itch unbearable. I try to turn over on my own, only to end up falling onto the floor. Suddenly, I hear a voice filled with suppressed anger carrying over from the balcony next door. "How long are you going to hide the fact that you fabricated the paternity test from your parents, Queenie?" Queenie snaps, immediately becoming defensive. "Shut up! I brought Nathan back because I wanted to keep our family from falling apart. Do you want me to tell them I lied because I felt guilty? "Where does that leave me, then? How am I supposed to stay in this family? I don't want all of us to spend our whole lives drowning in guilt over Henry! It's just a harmless lie meant to protect everyone!" I lie on the floor, frozen in shock. Is that lie supposed to protect me, then?

After the scores are out, I head home with my results slip, which indicates that I'm a top scorer in the entire city. My heart's brimming with excitement as I'm ready to share the good news with my family. I'm about to push the door open when I unexpectedly receive a video call from my future self from four years later. The me on the screen looks utterly haggard. I freeze for a moment, but I still can't stop myself from chirping like a child who's asking for a piece of candy, "Are you really me four years from now? Are Mom and Dad finally proud of me? Do they love me as much as they love my sister now?" My future self smiles, yet she can't keep her tears at bay. "Whatever you do, don't tell them your score! They won't be proud of you. They'll only use your sister's failure to get into college and her threats to end her own life as an excuse to force you to give up your place at college for her!" All of a sudden, I feel as though I've plunged into an icy abyss. On the day I reunite with my family, Mom and Dad take my younger sister, Winona Fairchild, out for fine dining while they hand me a plate of stone-cold leftovers. They tell me that after years of fending for myself, my stomach's too weak to handle anything too fancy. Naively, I believe that if I become good enough, I can bridge that ten-year gap and make them look at me the same way they look at Winona. As it turns out, blood ties can never outweigh years of companionship. As I listen to Mom and Dad comfort Winona over her poor performance on the exam, I fold my results slip neatly and tuck it deep into my pocket. Since they only view me as a cash cow, I have no reason to tell them that I've been accepted into Pennington College.

“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.

Three months after my biological parents bring me home, I come down with a high fever. When I wake up, I gain a strange ability. I can see the "Final Beneficiary" behind every gift. My biological father, Michael Harper, holds a bowl of herbal tonic. He grasps my hand with a guild-ridden expression, saying, "I know I've always favored Zane. From now on, I'll make it up to you." Hovering above the bowl, however, is a line of blue text. "Final Beneficiary: Zane Harper." "Objective: Restore the donor's health in preparation for next week's bone marrow extraction." A chill crawls down my spine, but I keep my composure. Over the next few days, the Harpers' kindness becomes almost excessive. The expensive suit my sister, Maya Harper, gives me has a label attached to it, too. "Beneficiary: Zane Harper." "Objective: Make the fake heir appear more capable at the banquet." The same goes for the company shares my mother transfers to my name. "Beneficiary: Zane Harper." "Objective: Use the true heir as the legal representative to take the fall for the company's impending tax scandal." One night, Maya, who has always despised me, throws her arms around me. Her eyes are red with tears as she says, "We'll send Zane abroad tomorrow. From now on, you'll be the only one I spoil." At that moment, a massive crimson label flashes over her head, stinging my eyes. "Final Beneficiary: Zane Harper." "Objective: Appease the real heir and trick him into signing the heart transplant consent form tomorrow."

Mom buys a four-thousand-dollar laptop for my sister, Scarlett Lowine, when we're shopping for school supplies. Dad chooses a luggage bag for her while my brother, Christopher Lowine, buys a pair of noise-cancelling headphones for her. My childhood friend, Jasper Greeson, crouches in front of a shelf, comparing eye-caring desk lamps with a serious look on his face. "Gabby has bad eyes. This lamp's brightness is perfect for her." A warm sensation spreads through my chest. However, the feeling only lasts for a few seconds before Jasper places the lamp in Scarlett's shopping cart. "Be sure not to tire yourself out when you're doing revisions at night, Scarlett," he says, smiling. I stand on the side with my empty shopping cart, feeling like an outsider who's just responsible for watching over their bags. "Aren't you going to buy your supplies too, miss?" the cashier asks. Mom seems to only remember my existence then. She frowns as she looks at me and asks, "Your things are still working, right? They're fine as long as you can use them during university." I look down at the note app on my phone. For the past year, I've written down a list of things that I want to buy for university, including a laptop, bed drapes, a desk lamp, a luggage bag, a pair of sneakers, and more. I've also noted down the price for every item. However, nearly every item on the list has been crossed out. They tell me that Scarlett has a weak constitution, so they need to take care of her. They tell me that it's fine for me to endure a little hardship because I have good results. But they don't know that I've already used my scholarship money to buy a plane ticket to another city. As they pack Scarlett's luggage bag until it's bursting, I'm finally going to erase every trace of myself from this family.

The year I start 7th grade, my parents sit my brother and me down and hand us each a bank card. "This is your college fund. We've put 100,000 dollars in each account. "The PIN is your birthday. Don't touch it unless you absolutely have to." I listen to them, treating that card like something sacred. I never even buy a single new outfit. When my canvas shoes wear through, I glue the soles back together and keep wearing them. I tell myself that as long as I'm responsible enough, I'll deserve the "fairness" my parents promise us. Then senior year ends, and I decide to use the money for a graduation trip with my classmates. Yet the ATM screen displays, "Available Balance: 0.00". At that exact moment, my brother posts a picture of a first-class ticket to Velmark on Instagram. It hits me all at once. There are two identical cards, but only my brother's has ever had real money in it. My parents have used a worthless card to fool me for six whole years, buying my obedience and my entire adolescence for nothing. If they refuse to keep things fair, then I'll smash the whole facade apart myself.

Ever since I was old enough to understand the world, I knew I was only a replacement for my dead brother. The day before I started elementary school, Mom and Dad took me to buy a backpack. Mom smiled and asked, “Blue or red? Which one do you want?” I picked blue. However, the moment I said it, her smile disappeared. She grabbed my shoulders so tightly that it hurt and screamed at me, “Why didn’t you choose red? Harry would only pick red!” Dad saw her lose control and slapped me across the face. My nose started bleeding. From that day on, whenever I chose something, I only dared to pick the color my brother would have liked. During recess, I was messing around with my classmates when some clay accidentally got stuck in my hair. The teacher kindly helped me cut it off. However, when Mom came to pick me up, she completely lost it. “Henry never had a buzz cut. You’re not my son!” She shoved me off the back of her electric scooter. I cried as I chased after her, running for half an hour before finally making it home. To keep from upsetting her again, I started copying my brother in everything. It was not until after the SATs that Mom demanded I give up my future and attend the community college near our house, even though I was the top scorer.

After I set up the camera, I realized the clients booked for a family portrait were the parents and older brother I'd run from five years earlier. The moment our eyes met, my mother's smile froze. Her eyes went red, and she asked uncertainly, "Remy... is that you?" "You're alive?" With one finger resting on the shutter, I reminded them, "Keep smiling. Look at the camera." My father shot to his feet. "Are you really this spiteful? Five years of hiding from us. What grievance in a family takes five years to get over?" I looked at the dog beside my brother, also named Remy, and couldn't understand what he was angry about. They were the ones who'd spent my whole childhood telling me I existed for one reason: to be marrow for my brother. Even the dog got to be in the family portrait I wasn't allowed in as a child. I gave up on that family a long time ago.

When I touch someone else's personal belongings—things they have had direct contact with before—I can hear the items voicing their owner's thoughts. The day of my grandma's funeral, I clutch the emerald bracelet she wore for over 30 years and hear it shout, "The house mustn't go to Michael! He hit me!" Michael? That's my uncle's name, and right now, he's bawling his eyes out in front of Grandma's casket, seemingly grieving even harder than everyone else.

My brother died, so my parents forced me to undergo plastic surgery to look exactly like him and live his life in his place. "Your brother was a genius. You can't just leave his fiancée and research project behind. You have to take over." "You've accomplished nothing with your life anyway. Getting to live his life is a lucky break for you." They seemed to have forgotten that I had my own name and that I had a life of my own. My identity records were canceled, and my parents acted as though they had every right to do it. "If you really care about our family, then you should understand why we're doing this." "We're doing this for your own good. Don't be so ungrateful." Everyone thought I would break down and run away. Instead, I smiled. "He was a genius? Fine. I will take his place." I later signed a high-stakes wager agreement with his former rival and even carried out increasingly reckless experiments in his name whilst wearing his face. "Don't go too far. You'll destroy our family…" I looked at them calmly. "I see." I tightened my grip on the letters my brother had left behind before quietly feeding them into the shredder.

My family was going on a beach trip for summer. My mother came up with the whole itinerary two weeks earlier. My father booked a room with a view of the sea. My brother picked the surfboards, while my sister went with the dresses for socials. I was helping them pack up the night before the trip when I saw the tickets on the coffee table. There were only four of them, and they were for my father, mother, brother, and sister. They didn't get one for me. My mother saw me, and she froze. "Oh, I forgot all about you." My brother didn't even look up. "She can just stay at home." My sister said quietly, "Maybe I shouldn't go, then?" My mother quickly took her side. "No. You've been looking forward to this." My father clapped my shoulder. "You can't go this time, but we'll bring you along for the next trip." I smiled bitterly at the tickets. They went to the beach the next day. I grabbed the 10 million from my lottery winnings and went to Aocity, a place more than a thousand miles away. Our choices marked the day we went our separate ways, forever.

For ten years, I woke at three every morning to knead dough for my breakfast stall, all so I could put my daughter through college. Hot oil splattered across my arms day after day, leaving scars on my forearms that would never fully fade. But today, just when I desperately needed the money to keep my stall open, I discovered that the $200,000 in my bank account was gone. It was not until I got the bank statement that I learned the truth. My daughter had reconnected with her biological mother back in middle school. All these years, she had been secretly transferring money to her. When I confronted her over the phone, I cried so hard I could barely breathe. "That money was our retirement savings!" But she only laughed impatiently. "Stop saying you raised me. You didn't even give birth to me. My biological mother is the one who gave me life. Consider the money you spent on me your way of showing her respect." The call ended with a cold beep. It felt like a blade had been driven straight through my heart. I rushed home like a madwoman to find my husband. I thought he would at least feel sorry for us losing our retirement savings. Instead, he sat calmly on the couch and took a sip of coffee. "Blood runs thicker than water. Stop being so selfish." That $200,000 was the money we needed to survive. And he was actually lecturing me about blood ties, when he was nothing more than her adoptive father too.

At the university Ball, Ada ripped my necklace from my throat in front of everyone. Emeralds skittered across the floor. She planted her hand on her hip and jabbed a finger in my face. "Elena, you thief! How dare you steal my necklace? My brothers had it custom-made for me. You had no right to touch their gift!" The ballroom went silent. Her favorite lackey, Louise Parker, swept toward me with her chin high. "Ada is the Costa brothers' little sister. You're dead this time!" A collective gasp rippled through the crowd. "The Costa family? The one that controls the weapons pipeline along the entire Eastern Seaboard?" "Everyone knows the three Costa brothers guard their sister like their lives depend on it. The last guy who tried to get close to her supposedly had his arms and legs cut off before they threw him into an underground fighting pit full of starving wolves." "She's really their sister? Elena is in serious trouble this time!" I stared at the emeralds scattered across the floor, and a disbelieving laugh escaped me. The Costa brothers did have a cherished younger sister. That was me, Elena Costa.

When I practice standing at attention during the freshman orientation program, my mom, Jasmine Miller, decides to lock me up in a car with fully sealed windows just because I'm the first one who wipes sweat off her brow. "You were never able to stand properly ever since you were a kid! How dare you embarrass me in front of everyone with that slump of yours! In that case, you might as well reflect on yourself in the car!" The temperature in the car soon rose to 140 degrees Fahrenheit. I could only grip my throat, which is closing up rapidly, as I bang on the car window and plead to Mom to let me out. But she merely glances at the temperature shown on the monitor inside the car before locking all the doors with a jab of the remote control. "It's only 96.8 degrees inside the car! Heck, it's even a degree lower than the temperature outside! Keep putting on that act of yours, why don't you?" But what Mom doesn't know is that the car's system has already gotten disconnected from the Internet a long time ago. Seeing as the temperature inside the car is still increasing, I have no choice but to ask my orientation leader, Edwin Styke, for help. But he actually agrees with Mom's approach to things. "If every parent were as strict as Ms. Miller, none of the youngsters would grow up fragile and whiny!" Driven by sheer despair, I can only slump in the backseat. Soon, my consciousness fades away completely. Some of my peers try to plead on my behalf, only to witness the way Mom tosses her car key into the dumpster. "Kate really is enjoying her break, huh? Now that she's lying inside the car, she refuses to even move a muscle! Well then, she can lie there all she wants!" But Mom, I don't need you to free me anymore. After all, I can feel myself ascending slowly from the car. Finally, I'm free from this sauna! As I stare at Mom's furious face, I can only grip the hem of my sweat-soaked shirt uneasily. I'm sorry for embarrassing you in front of everyone again, Mom…

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.

After the college entrance exam, my mom gave my twin sister an LV bag as a coming-of-age gift. What she handed me was the exam pass I had lost on test day. "Paige, sweetie, I found your exam pass last night. It was under the couch. I know you couldn't take the college entrance exam this year, but don't let it get to you. Keep this as a little reminder to be more careful when you retake them next year." The exam pass gave off a faint scent. It was the kind that only came from the sachets hanging in my mom's closet. When I did not reach for it, she said, "Why won't you take it? Don't worry. Once you retake the exams next year and get into a good school, I'll buy you a bag too." I let out a dry laugh. Retake the exams? What my mom did not know was that I had already received a guaranteed spot at Glenmore University. I had only planned to sit for the exam because I was afraid my sister would fall apart if she found out, and I wanted to go through the motions with her. If she had hidden my exam pass to destroy my future, then this so-called family bond was not something I wanted to hold on to anymore.

I had known from a young age that I wasn't the Blackwood family's biological daughter. So I knew that I wasn't worthy of being compared with Claire Blackwood in any way. I had only gotten her doll dirty while cleaning the room, yet Mom punished me by locking me out in the rain all night. When Claire blinded one of my eyes with a laser pointer, however, Mom protected her instead. “Your sister didn't mean to do it. She was just playing around.” After I lost sight in my right eye, Claire showed me a triumphant smile. “Who told you to enter our lives in the first place? You deserve it.” They all said I was an outsider. So for eighteen years, no matter how hard I tried or how desperately I pleased them, I could never fit into this family. Until one day, by a twist of fate, I learned an outrageous truth. The DNA test clearly stated that I was my mother's biological daughter, while my younger sister was the adopted one. At that moment, it felt as though I had stopped breathing.

After graduating from high school, my twin sister, Ella, and I were both accepted to Newland University. My parents put eighty thousand dollars in Ella's college fund and gave her a three-thousand-dollar monthly allowance, but put only eight thousand in mine and gave me three hundred a month. They took it for granted that I would move to Newland to look after her. The day the whole family threw a graduation party for my sister, I boarded a flight to the West Coast with a single suitcase and a full scholarship to one of the country's top engineering schools. What they didn't know was that the reporter who showed up that afternoon to interview "the outstanding Ashford graduate" had never been looking for my sister. The person they wanted was me, the daughter they'd already pushed out the door.