Feel-Good Story Biological Family Short Stories & Novels

I land a 30-million-dollar deal for my parents' factory. On payday, my older sister, Hailey Irving, receives a 50,000-dollar bonus. Meanwhile, my younger brother, Hanson Irving, gets a 100,000-dollar bonus. But my pay slip shows only one line—Base Salary 3,000 dollars. "Hailey hasn't made a single mistake in the books in ten years. As encouragement, you get a 50,000-dollar bonus." "All the clients praise Hanson for being handsome and charming. He deserves the most credit for landing this big deal, so I'm giving him a 100,000-dollar bonus." Before I can even react, Mom throws 30 crumpled bills at me while saying with disdain, "Someone who's both stupid and ugly needs to work harder. Don't think putting in more effort means you're worth more. That's all the value you create." I stare at my pay slip, feeling dazed. My parents raise us to be independent, so everything in our family comes with a price tag. A plate of steak and fries costs 30 dollars. A ten-minute hot shower costs 50 dollars. To earn money, my siblings and I have to work at our parents' factory from a young age. Hailey is good at math, so she sits in the air-conditioned office writing receipts. Hanson is handsome, so he works as a greeter in the reception room, where snacks are available in unlimited supply. As for me, I was the family’s all-purpose errand runner, forced to fill in wherever help was needed. I unload shipments, sweep floors, and even go out to negotiate business deals. However, all three of us earn the same base salary of 3,000 dollars per month. If I want meat for my meals, I have to work desperately hard and constantly find ways to create more value. But now, I no longer understand what all that hard work is for. I lower my head and take out my phone to search through the spam messages until I find the one offering me a high-paying job.

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.

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.

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.

My parents, Leander and Valentina Rhodes, were cutthroat capitalists through and through, bringing the company’s toxic corporate culture right into our home. Eating a serving of pork ribs meant a performance deduction. Using the washing machine required paying a depreciation fee. Just to survive, I spent day and night coding and developing software. Finally, a photo-editing app I developed completely on my own went viral, earning my parents’ company $7 million. At the celebration dinner, my eldest sister, Sienna Rhodes, who managed HR, received a $70,000 bonus. My youngest sister, Delphine Rhodes, who worked in business development, walked away with a brand-new Porsche. Meanwhile, my paycheck showed nothing more than my unchanging $600 base salary. “Sienna hired two cleaners for the company. That’s called building talent pipeline infrastructure—she deserves a reward!” “Delphine took a client out for a steak dinner and secured the distribution deal. That’s expanding our territory—she deserves a massive bonus!” Finally, my parents shoved a supermarket gift card into my hand. “As for you, Evangeline, all you do is sit at your desk, tapping away on a keyboard in the air conditioning. There’s really nothing to reward.” “Still, Sienna and Delphine spoke up on your behalf, so take this gift card.” Ever since we were kids, Sienna was the family decision-maker; everything she said was taken seriously. Delphine was the baby of the family, showered with love—even when she made a mistake, it was always someone else’s fault. As for me, stuck in the middle, it felt like I was born to be forgotten. Even though I was supposed to be the star of this celebration dinner, no one remembered. No one cared. Watching the four of them laughing and enjoying their happy family moment, I silently put down the gift card. Then, I opened a text message from a rival tech giant offering me an $8 million annual salary package.

After I started college, my mother announced that she would be giving me my living expenses in installments. "Hank, you're grown up now. To teach you how to manage your money, I've decided to give you your living expenses in installments." At first, I assumed she meant she would send my allowance once a month. At worst, maybe once a week. But on the day I checked in, she walked around the cafeteria, then transferred $6.80 to my bank account. I stared at her in confusion. "Mom, you sent the wrong amount." She shook her head with a smile. "Silly boy, that's your lunch money for today. I already picked out the cheapest meal for you. Just get the set lunch from that place. From now on, you can apply to me for the cost of each meal based on this amount." I was completely stunned. So when she said "installments," she did not mean monthly or even weekly. She meant every single meal. But by the third day, I was standing at the breakfast counter, struggling to come up with the $1.50 I needed for an egg. When I asked my mother for money, she refused. Instead, she simply said, "I paid for your brother's house in full yesterday. I don't have any extra cash on hand right now. Missing one meal won't kill you, will it?" The cafeteria lady looked at me with surprise and pity. That look burned a hole straight through my already fragile pride. That day, I held the egg the lady had given me and searched for a part-time job. Yet, when I no longer needed my mother, she was the one who panicked.

When I was fifteen, my father brought home the daughter of the man who had once saved his life. He told me, "Stella, Hazel is your sister now. You need to be more understanding with her." From that day on, everything I had became something my father could freely give to Hazel. I cried and asked him if he no longer loved me. But he stroked my head and reassured me, "I am only doing this to repay a debt. Don't worry. I'll leave all my assets and the company to you." It was not until I graduated from college that I happened to overhear Hazel sweet-talking my father. "Dad, I like Julian. Could you get Stella to break off her engagement with him and let me have him? "Besides, Stella didn't study business management in college. Why don't you let me join the company and help out? I could take some of the burden off your shoulders." I clenched my fists, anger churning in my chest. For all these years, I had given in to her again and again. And now she wanted to take not only my fiance, but my inheritance as well?

After the SAT, the five of us childhood friends got together and played a game to test how well we knew each other. In the first round, my best friend, Millie Thyme, asked, “If one of us was stranded in the countryside in the middle of the night, who would you rescue first?” The three boys, all of whom others had teased to be my future husbands since we were kids, wrote her name without hesitation. Someone joked that they had read each other’s minds. Millie’s face turned red as she explained, “Maybe because I’m the biggest scaredy-cat. Hailey is so capable. She wouldn’t need anyone to rescue her.” They all nodded in agreement. However, they had forgotten that when I was stranded in the mountains at 16, they were the ones who braved a torrential downpour to find me, then fought over who would carry me down the mountain. Back then, they told me, “No matter what happens, we’ll always choose you first.” In the second round, it was my turn to ask a question. I looked at them and smiled as I read the card aloud, “If only four of the five of us could go to college together, who would you leave behind?” The room instantly went quiet. Millie bit her lip and was the first to flip over her answer board. Her own name was written on it. However, when the other three boards were revealed, every single one had my name on it. Marcus Hayes, the one who had always cared about me the most, said first, “It’s just a game. You won't actually take this seriously, will you?” Ryan quickly chimed in, “Millie isn’t in the best of health. She can’t handle going to some unfamiliar city by herself.” Julian gently ruffled my hair, his voice as warm as ever. “You’re applying to a college here anyway, so you'd be coming home every day anyway. It’s not like we’d actually be leaving you behind.” I stared at the four answer boards and suddenly smiled. What they did not know was that I never even applied to the local college they thought I would be attending…

The year I started middle school, my parents solemnly handed my sister and me each a bank card. "This is your college fund. There's 100,000 dollars in each one. The password is your birthday. Don't touch it unless it's truly an emergency." I listened. I treated that card like a treasure. I never bought a single new piece of clothing. Even my worn-out canvas shoes got patched with glue and worn again. I thought that if I was just responsible enough, I'd live up to my parents' idea of "fairness." Then, after the SATs ended, I wanted to use the money on the card for a graduation trip with my classmates. Instead, the ATM screen flashed a number that burned my eyes: [Balance: $0.00]. At that very moment, my sister posted photos on her social media of a first-class ticket to Iceland. It hit me then. Two identical cards, and only hers had ever held real money. For six straight years, my parents had played a worthless card to string me along — buying my youth, my obedience, my very self. If they couldn't keep things from tipping over, then I'd tear it all down myself. With my own two hands.

My family is the most harmonious one around because we're a blended family. Both my parents treat their children and stepchildren "equally". When money goes missing at home, my mother, Jessica Evans, always slaps me without even thinking of suspecting my older sister, Susan Chase. After meals, my father, Damian Chase, allows my older brother, James Chase, to rest. However, he threatens to take away my meal privileges if I don't wash the dishes. Even after they get into arguments, I always end up the sole outlet for their frustrations. Unsurprisingly, my mental state deteriorates. When Mom discovers the scarring on my arms, she looks at me with disgust. "You're too young to be acting depressed," she tells me. So, amid juggling most of the household chores and enduring the most verbal abuse, I slit my wrists one night. As a result, my parents finally stop being biased. For the first time in over a decade, I have my own room, even if it's just a study spanning several dozen square feet. I am also no longer invisible in their eyes, and I am actually allowed some privacy—at least, until James and Susan get into a huge argument. When I come home, my room has been converted back into a study. My belongings are piled up like trash in the living room. Mom informs me calmly, "James and Susan's rooms are too close, so his gaming sessions have been affecting her sleep. Be sensible. We've played along with your suicidal antics for long enough, so stop making things difficult for us." This time, I don't make a huge fuss like before. It's because I can no longer hear anything around me, and I no longer want anything either.

In my first year out of college, my mother sues me over the 60 dollars a month I give her for living expenses. In court, she breaks down in tears. "She only gives me 60 dollars a month! And she makes me check in every single day before she'll hand over that day's money! "I raised her and her brother all on my own. I gave everything I had to put her through college. How can she do this to me?" Her lawyer submits printed copies of our text conversations as proof. The judge frowns as he reads through them, then passes them to me. "Defendant, are these messages authentic?" I nod calmly. "They are." The gallery erupts in whispers, people calling me ungrateful and a terrible daughter. Then, the judge bangs his gavel and orders silence. I look at my mother's smug expression and submit my own evidence. The judge's frown deepens as he reviews it. And the moment my mother sees it, the color drains from her face.

When my SAT results come in, I'm stunned to see a score of just 550, even though I've always been one of the top students in my class. For the first time, my parents pull me into a hug and gently reassure me. "It's okay. We'll pay for you to retake the SAT next time." Tears well up in my eyes as I promise them, "I'll get into a good college next time. I won't let you down." They prepare a lavish dinner, then send me off to bed with smiles. Late that night, I hear laughter coming from my parents' room. A beat later, I hear the voice of my little sister, Olivia Clark, drifting through the crack in the door. "Mom, Dad, you're amazing! I'll be headed to a top college soon!"

My family always used me as an example to teach Yvette Langley, my twin sister, a lesson. When we were little, my mom would purposely leave me alone on the street. She would let Yvette watch me break down in tears so she would learn never to wander off. My brother, Martin Langley, would get kids from outside school to corner me in an alley. He wanted Yvette to see me get slapped and forced to my knees so she would learn to stay away from troublemakers. So I became more and more timid, and they grew to like me less and less. Then, the day before the SAT, my mom gave me an order I could not refuse. “Tomorrow, you’re going to turn in a blank SAT.” I stared at her in shock. Tears filled my eyes as I asked, “Why?” Martin sat beside her and spoke as if it were the most ordinary thing in the world. “Once you fail the SAT and have to struggle because you can’t get into college, Yvette will learn to appreciate her chance to go to college. She’ll work harder and become a better student. “We need you to push her forward.” They talked about sacrificing my future as if it were nothing. My heart sank. I had held everything inside for nineteen years. That last thread finally snapped. All I felt was heartbreak. That was when I finally decided to leave my family behind, the family that had always sacrificed me for Yvette.

I was the real daughter of the Jenkins family, recently brought home, while Coco, the fake, unexpectedly procured the College Entrance Exam Leech System. All she had to do was give a name, and the person's score would be transferred to her exam sheet. She was overjoyed when she mistook me for the star student who had been the top scorer in the city's high school for three years, and quickly put my name in. Then, in the three months leading up to the college entrance exam, she would be watching Youtube videos in class, getting her nails done after school, all while bragging she could get over 700—even with her eyes closed. I warned her that college entrance exams were no joke, but her boyfriend leapt to her defense, snapping at me, "Coco is a genius! What would a bumpkin like you know?!" Our parents were playing favorites as ever, yelling at me too. "Don't get jealous! Coco is a born genius!" They had no idea that there was another Jojo Jenkins at the school, and a boy at that. He was also given guaranteed admission to a prestigious university without needing to take college entrance exam, while I was just an art student who was addicted to drawing. On the day the results were published, Coco even invited the media on her livestream as she checked her score, ready to set her reputation as a young prodigy. I watched her smiling smugly, quietly putting away my arts school admission notice. She liked stealing college entrance exam scores? She had my blessing to steal mine!

My brother, Graham Hart, was the villainous second male lead in a romance novel. After the female lead, Celeste Rodgers, faked her death, he spent every day thinking of ways to die for her. But before he could follow through, he got a call from my kindergarten teacher, Carly Rocha. "Are you Mila Hart's brother? Please come to the school. She keeps climbing into the aquarium and pretending to be a goldfish. She says she learned it from you. What exactly is going on?" After that, Graham didn't dare try to kill himself anymore. He had to set a good example for me. Then one day, years later, the school called him in because I had been caught dating a boy with bleached hair. As it turned out, the boy was Celeste's younger brother, Dylan Rodgers. When she realized who I was, Celeste smiled. "So Mila is your sister. Dylan may not be much of a student, but he's a good kid. I think he'd be perfect for her. Once our families are joined—" Before she could finish, Graham cut her off coldly, "You think becoming part of the Hart family is that easy? Tell Dylan to stop dreaming and stay away from Mila."

After I started college, Mom said she'd send me money in installments. "Lucia, you're an adult now. I want you to learn how to manage money, so I'll give you your living expenses in installments." I figured she meant monthly. Maybe weekly, worst case. Then move-in day came. Mom walked around the cafeteria, checked the prices, and sent $8 to my payment app. I stared at my phone. "Mom, did you send the wrong amount?" She smiled. "Silly girl. That's your lunch money for today. I checked already. Just get the cheapest grab-and-go meal. "From now on, ask me for money before each meal." I froze. So by installments, she didn't mean monthly. Or weekly. She meant one meal at a time. By day three, I stood at the breakfast counter, unable to afford a $1.50 egg. Mom still wouldn't send me anything. "I just bought Ryan a house outright yesterday. I don't have extra cash right now. Skipping one meal won't kill you." The cafeteria worker looked at me with shock and pity. Her expression crushed what was left of my pride. That day, clutching the egg the worker had given me, I started looking for a job online. But once I stopped needing Mom, she panicked.

I was one month away from donating a kidney when strangers ambushed me on vacation and tried to drag me away to harvest it. I fought with everything I had, drawing a crowd of onlookers. "Miss Ashford, my mother needs a kidney transplant right now! "You took my $1.5 million and signed the agreement. Running off with the money is pretty low, don't you think?" As he spoke, his men tried to drag me into a black car. But the patient I had agreed to donate to was a man. I had signed an agreement, yes, but I had volunteered to give this kidney free of charge to the man who had saved my life. He was one of the most powerful men in New York. He would never stoop to tactics this dirty, and he had no need to. I tore free of their grip, pulled out my phone, and sent a text.

To celebrate my twin sister, Tania, and me finishing our SATs, our whole family decided to take a graduation trip to Europia. When we got to the airport check-in counter, Dad had everyone's passport and ticket… except mine. He searched for it for ages. Eventually, he slapped his forehead and said, "Damn. I think I forgot to give them your name when I had my secretary book the tickets." Tania immediately tugged at the sleeve of her childhood friend, Derrick, her eyes welling with tears. "I'm sorry, Riley. I must've rushed Dad too much. Maybe I shouldn't go either." When Derrick heard her, he immediately shielded Tania behind him and looked at me with undisguised disgust. "It's not Tania's fault. If you can't go, then don't. You've always been a potato couch anyway." Mom came over and took the custom travel bag from my hands, passing it to my sister. "Riley, don't be upset at your father. Just go home. We'll definitely take you next time." She didn't even ask how I was supposed to get home with all that luggage. I watched them hurry toward security and didn't shed a single tear for the first time in my life. "Okay, I won't go. Have a safe trip," I murmured even though no one was listening. They flew to Lome while I turned around and walked straight to the domestic terminal next door. Hidden in my bag was an acceptance letter none of them had ever seen. I'd been accepted into a military academy 3,000 miles from home. And honestly, 3,000 miles was just far enough from them.

I have always been the type to take people at their word. In fact, I've never been good at reading between the lines. Back in middle school, a girl deliberately slipped a cheat sheet into my hand. "Hold this for me. The teacher's coming," she whispers. She probably expects me to panic and stuff it into my pocket. Instead, I raise my hand. "This belongs to her. She just put it in my hand," I declare. Years later, after I start working, a new manager begins auditing the accounts. My colleague, Wendy Boyer, keeps stomping on my foot under the table. Lowering her voice, she whispers, "Just take the blame for now. You're still new, so he won't come down too hard on you." I nod, stand up, and look straight at our manager. "Wendy's the one who's been taking kickbacks. She said newcomers wouldn't be punished too harshly. You're new too, aren't you? Why don't you take the blame for her?" From that day on, no one in the office ever tried whispering anything to me again. That lasted until my biological parents finally found me and brought me home. They even threw a belated homecoming banquet to formally welcome me into the family. My supposed sister, Adeline Holmes, completely ignores the place card with my name on it and takes the seat between my parents. She loops her arm through Mom's and smiles at me. "I've sat here for the past 21 years. You don't mind if I sit here, do you?" she asks. Everyone waits for me to take the hint and quietly move to another seat. Instead, I look at her in all seriousness and ask, "Why would you think I'd mind? Is it because this is where the biological daughter is supposed to sit?" She presses her lips together and says nothing. So, I continue, "If that's the case, you've already had it for 21 years. Isn't it about time you gave it back to me?"