Familial Bond Family Emotions Short Stories & Novels

I'm only eight years old when two men try to abduct me. A teenage boy bravely rescues me from the human traffickers. It is only after he brings me to the police station that I find out I'm the daughter of the Garner family—and that he, Shane Garner, is my adopted older brother. The Garners organize a party to officially welcome me home. On the day of the party, Cassidy Garner, the daughter they've raised in my place, runs out of the house in a fit of anger and gets run over by a car. After her death, the Garners shut me out and refuse to even look at me. Shane is the only one who stays by my side. He becomes the only person I can count on. Then, on my 18th birthday, he ships me off to a psychiatric facility to be locked up. "If you hadn't told Mom and Dad that Cassie lashed out at you, they wouldn't have scolded her, and she wouldn't have run out of the house! You're going to stay right here and atone for her death," he declares. After five grueling years of torture, I finally jump off a building to end my suffering. Suddenly, I open my eyes again and find I've returned to my eight-year-old self. I've gone back in time to the day of my kidnapping. After seeing the anxious-looking teenage boy in front of me, I grip my kidnapper's hand and say, "They're not human traffickers! They're my family."

The woman who just moved into our building has had her packages stolen seven times by the older women in our building. Instead of calling the police, she sets up a thank-you raffle box in the lobby and leaves a sweet little voice message in the residents' group chat. "Dear neighbors, put even a single scrap of paper in the box, and I guarantee one wish will come true!" At first, everyone thinks the thefts have pushed her over the edge. Then Mrs. Bell tosses in a handful of rotten vegetables and somehow gets a new condo. Mr. Porter spits into the box, and his bedridden wife miraculously gets up and walks. Suddenly, every resident is scrambling to stuff the box with junk. My mother refuses to be left out. She grabs a reeking bag of kitchen scraps and makes a run for the lobby. When I try to stop her, she points at me and screams, "You're trying to rob us of our future! I don't have a selfish daughter like you!" The neighbors turn on me, too. They accuse me of wanting to keep all the good fortune for myself, of being so spiteful I can't stand to see ordinary people get ahead. I look at the greed in my mother's eyes. And then I smile. I get up, hold the door open for her, and even add two old shirts to her bag. "Go on, Mom. Wish for a fortune big enough for your happy family of four."

Before my mother died, she arranged a marriage for me. My bride-to-be was Rosalind Young, Kingsford's most formidable financial tycoon. Before I married her, I added three clauses to the prenuptial agreement. First, no feelings. Our marriage was purely business. Second, she could live her life however she pleased, while I'd live mine. Third, I would step aside immediately if her true love ever came along. Nevertheless, I would be getting double the alimony. Rosalind was quite pleased that I knew my place. Our marriage was a peaceful one until the day a teenage girl who bore a striking resemblance to her knocked on the door of our mansion and calmly said, "Sir, I'm Rosalind's daughter. She raised me elsewhere. I'm 17."

The day Dad brought my ashes home, Mom, who had claimed for years to be suffering from severe postpartum depression, suddenly told the truth. "Actually, I made the illness up. "We were never short on money, either. My company took off years ago. You never had to work six jobs a day until you nearly collapsed." Dad froze, then looked up at her in disbelief. Mom went on nonchalantly as if she were discussing nothing important. "And that day on the highway, it wasn't because my depression flared up and I lost control, leaving Caleb at the rest stop by himself. "He was spoiled by you. He actually dared to talk back to Adrian, so I left him there on purpose to teach him a lesson." Dad's eyes grew redder and redder. After a long moment, he forced one question through his locked throat. "Why?" Mom gave a light laugh. At the red light, she reached over and touched his earlobe, as if she were talking about a tiny, harmless joke. "Because you kept using my love for you as an excuse to bully Adrian. It was just a small punishment. "Now the punishment is over. Daniel, you really have suffered these past six years. I'll make it up to you from now on. "What about Caleb? Children recover quickly. He should be better by now, right? Why didn't he come home with you?" Dad looked at her through tears. Two seconds later, he suddenly laughed. With trembling fingers, he patted the urn in his arms. "He's here."

Days before our wedding, Adrian Vitale fastened the Vitale family's emerald necklace, passed down for three generations, around my sister's neck. He was the new Don of the Vitale family, one of New York's Mafia families. I was the Moretti daughter he was supposed to marry. The necklace had always gone to the woman the Vitale family recognized as its Donna. Adrian had promised to fasten it around my neck himself at our wedding. "I lost to your sister at cards last night, so the necklace is hers." My sister, Vivian Moretti, bumped Adrian's arm playfully. "You're really giving me your family heirloom? Aren't you worried my little sister will be mad?" Adrian gave her an indulgent look. "It's just a necklace. I can buy another one. It's not every day you're this happy." I touched my bare neck. "But you said that necklace would only ever go to your wife." My voice came out rough. My parents' faces darkened. "It's just a necklace. You've been giving things up to your sister since you were little. What's one more? Don't throw a tantrum right before the wedding." They always said my sister was better than me, and good things were wasted on anyone but her. I'd had to give her the pretty dresses, the toys I loved, even my rare chances to travel. I'd thought Adrian would be the one person who'd choose me and keep choosing me. But now even the heirloom necklace that marked a woman as his family's Donna had been handed to my sister like it was nothing. Their smiles made my eyes sting, but a strange calm was slowly settling over me. I looked up at Adrian. "Since you've given her the necklace, she can have my fiancé too."

Emma, the fake heiress, and I were sold into an underground BDSM club. When my parents, the richest couple in the country, and my husband, Leo DeLuca, the feared Don of the DeLuca crime family, finally found us, I was bound with duct tape and covered in wounds. Emma lay beside me, heavily pregnant and unconscious. Three months later, doctors confirmed that her baby had died in the womb. She was the adopted daughter my parents had cherished for twenty years, and the girl my husband had never gotten over. My parents and husband went half mad, offering a nationwide one-hundred-million-dollar bounty for any lead on the person responsible. I was the only one who might have seen the culprit's face, and I said nothing. My father locked me in the basement for seven full days without food or water, but I still refused to identify the person responsible. At my weakest, my enraged husband dragged me before a memory tribunal. "Your sister is still unconscious, and you are protecting the person who did this because you are jealous of her! The thought that I share a bed with someone as poisonous as you makes me sick!" My father, Victor Valenti, watched from a distance, his face hard with disappointment. "I regret ever going through hell to bring you home from the slums! Why couldn't you have died instead of Emma's baby! Today I'll use the Valenti family's own interrogation device, the memory extractor, and neither you nor the person behind this will have anywhere left to hide!" But when my real memories appeared on the huge screen, my husband completely lost his mind. My parents hung their heads and knelt before me, wrecked.

Before my brother, Noah Spears, brought his girlfriend home, he made a point of warning me. "Stacey, don't call me 'big brother' anymore. Your sister-in-law will get jealous." I was stunned. I was his own flesh-and-blood sister. What did she have to be jealous of? But I didn't say anything. I let it go. After all, my brother was thirty years old and had only just found a girlfriend to bring home. That was no small thing. That day, to show how sincere we were, my mother, May Spears, made a point of preparing an envelope with twelve thousand dollars in cash. I'd bought a designer bag and a gold bracelet, and I'd even brought the deed to a house, planning to give it to them as their marital home. But the moment I walked through the door, my brother's girlfriend, Ashley Jenkins, smashed a glass on the spot, all because Mom had called him "son." "You old hag, don't you think that's disgusting? "My man is thirty years old, and you're still calling him 'son'? What, are you trying to remind me that he'll always belong to you?" Mom went pale, completely at a loss. My brother stood off to the side without a word. I was about to step in and smooth things over when she swung her hand at my face. "And you! You think you're any better? Always going 'big brother this, big brother that.' What are you, a hooker?"

I accidentally come across a post made by my mom's smurf account on the Internet. "Is it too cheap for me to prepare just a set of gold bars as a coming-of-age gift for my daughter?" My heart skips a beat. My parents are known for being extremely stingy. To think that they are willing to spend this much on me! I'm worried that my parents might overwork themselves just to prepare such a lucrative gift, so I take a screenshot and save the link to a three-year vacation tour that's priced at 999 dollars. Then, I decide to respond to the post as an anonymous user. "Your daughter will feel very happy as long as she receives her parents' love. No materialistic gift can ever outshine that." Five minutes later, Mom responds to me, "Thank you for your suggestion, but I've already taken my darling on a graduation trip in Enora last week. She had so much fun there."

When my parents divorce, they agree that my brother Zane Powell and I will each live with one of them for a year at a time, switching back and forth. But every single year, when it's time to switch before school starts, they always end up fighting over Zane. "Zane, would you like to travel with me over the Fourth of July?" My dad, Jim Powell, frowns. "Zane is staying with me this year. Don't get involved." My mom, Martha Zane, sneers. "I was away for work and left him with you for 17 days last year. I want those days back!" "It wasn't even a full 17 days. It was only 16 days and 8 hours." Zane sighs. "It would be great if I could split myself in half." After arguing for a long time, Mom and Dad finally compromise. Over the Fourth of July holiday, they take Zane to Avloria Island together. Zane asks, "What about Dane?" Dad looks away. "Dane isn't staying with me this year." Mom, who has barely looked at me since she walked in, finally lays her eyes on me. "I'm busy with work this year. I don't want to take care of you. Go stay with your grandparents." I clench my fists under the table until my nails dig into my palms. Just moments ago, she was fighting Dad over the days she had lost with Zane. But now, she is already finding an excuse to leave me behind. Just then, my homeroom teacher, Raymond Dunn, texts me. "You got good results from both summer programs. Southia College is in the next state over. You should consider it." I reply, "Mr. Dunn, I'll choose the one in Marlow." 1,200 miles should be enough to leave the first half of my life of being unwanted behind.

My daughter Lyra believed the Moon Goddess had given our kind one virtue above all others: honesty. So she never told a single lie. I put on a newly bought lipstick and turned in front of the mirror. "Sweetheart, does Mommy look pretty today?" She glanced up at me. "Honestly, Mommy, you were ugly to start with, and that color only makes it worse." One evening I was scrambling around the kitchen while my mother-in-law scolded me for not being able to cook a decent meal. I asked Lyra, "Grandma says Mommy's useless. Does that upset you?" She kept stacking her blocks. "Honestly, I'm actually glad you're getting scolded." That night, while my husband read her a bedtime story, he asked whether she would take care of me when I was old and could no longer walk. She thought it over seriously, then rolled onto her other side. "No way. A useless wolf should just go off and die on its own." Something in me went cold. She only grinned. "But I'm just telling the truth." Later, when a caseworker from the Pup Welfare Council came to register us for the census and asked Lyra a few routine questions, she insisted on telling nothing but the truth. This time, though, it was a truth she would regret for the rest of her life.

To teach me to behave, my parents forged a paternity test and declared I was not their biological son. My sister ignored my pleas and had me committed to a psychiatric hospital. "You troublemaker, why don't you just die?" they sneered. Even the fiancée I loved most watched with icy eyes and used her connections to make sure I suffered inside. After five years, I finally knew how to keep my head down. So why did they suddenly demand I return to the arrogant heir I once was?

My younger sister and I shared a single body, though we each had our own souls. Ever since we were kids, our family decided who got to inhabit the body and who had to hibernate by drawing lots. I always drew the long stick, while Stella always drew the short one. Our family held a new draw every month. Whenever she was the one in the body, our parents and older brother would take her on vacations and road trips around the world. She got to see places I could only ever dream of. Whenever it was my turn to inhabit the body, they locked me inside the house and forced me to stay up all night, studying. I had to endure every hardship in life, from high school entrance exams to college entrance exams. Every challenge that mattered was my responsibility. However, whenever I succeeded, they made sure the next draw favored Stella. She effortlessly walked away with everything I had worked for. One day, she severely injured the daughter of a powerful local thug at school. My brother did not hesitate for a second to make the decision. “Tomorrow’s the first of the month, anyway. Since we’re the ones who decide the draw, switch Stella out. Let her wake up and take the fall for Stella.” Our parents did not object. Trapped deep within our shared body, I let out a bitter laugh. As I watched them protect my sister without a second thought and offer me up as the scapegoat, the last piece of my heart shattered. They did not know I had the choice to enter permanent slumber. I looked at them with a broken heart. From this moment on, I would never again live as Stella’s stepping stone or take the blame for her mistakes.

The theme park was packed. My parents let go of my hand so they could grab front-row spots for Leo, my twin brother. That made it ninety-nine times. I didn't cry. I didn't panic. I just stood there. Then a strange woman leaned down. "Are you lost, sweetheart? I can help you find your mom." I recognized her instantly. She was the wanted kidnapper from the morning news. I grabbed her hand anyway. "Okay. Thanks."

My sister had always despised school. So when she suddenly declared she wanted to go to college—and even urged our parents to marry me off to a high-ranking officer's son to fund her studies—I knew at once: she had been reborn too. In our previous life, my sister believed studying was pointless. She barely graduated high school before marrying Anthony Brown, the officer's son who had come to propose with a pretty penny. However, when Anthony was later transferred to a remote outpost, she found the harsh conditions unbearable and refused to follow him. Meanwhile, I worked part-time jobs to put myself through college, landed a secure job after graduation, and became a full-fledged city resident. My sister, still living in the military compound, started using her father-in-law's name to take bribes. Her actions dragged him into a scandal and got him dismissed from his position. Eventually, my mother-in-law kicked her out. After the divorce, she was tricked into investing in stocks in Eastbridge City. The market crashed, and she lost all of our parents' retirement savings. Desperate and with nowhere to go, she turned to me. Cornering me with a knife, she demanded I hand over my savings and apartment so she could "start over." In the chaos, she stabbed me twelve times. I died from massive blood loss. When I opened my eyes again, I was back at the moment she asked our parents to marry me off to Anthony. This time, I smiled, said yes—and dropped out of school that very day.

After class, my half sister sent a driver to pick me up for the family dinner. But he parked outside the estate of the Besa family, the most dangerous mafia clan in England. My half sister, Sophie Hawthorne, was practically dripping with smugness on the other end. "Got you! The driver's gone. Let's see how you get out of this one!" I stood frozen. My father sighed on the other end of the line. "You fell for a trick that simple? You're a disgrace to the Hawthorne blood in your veins!" My stepmother laughed. "How can you be this stupid? Find your own way out. We have a dinner to attend." Shaking with fear, I sank to the ground and, with my last shred of hope, called my fiance, Ethan Mercer. The call connected, but it was Sophie's voice that answered. "Iris, Mom and Dad said you have to come back on your own. No cheating!" Ethan took the phone. His tone was breezy. "Come on. Don't disappoint your sister after all the thought she put into this. Good luck." The line went dead. Before, I would have cried and called them over and over until someone agreed to come get me. But this time, staring at the forest stretching endlessly before me, I was just tired. Sophie loved her pranks, and the whole family played along. Last year, she kissed my fiance in front of everyone at my engagement party. Last month, she swapped my heart medication for sugar pills and landed me in the ICU. This time, they all knew the Besa family' reputation for cruelty, yet they still helped her dump me on their doorstep. I spotted the red glow of a surveillance camera in the distance. I knew there was no escaping. I wiped my tears and stood up. I walked toward the Besa estate. If my own family wouldn't have me, I would find one that would.

I've always had naturally low energy, so growing up, I basically treated myself like I was a corpse. While other kids are learning to talk and walk, I'm busy figuring out how to keep my body temperature low and my heart rate down. In a game of hide-and-seek at preschool, my classmate locks me in a cabinet. I'm fine being alive or dead, so I just hold my breath and wait for death to take me. I even thoughtfully arrange myself like I'm on a slab in the morgue. When he finally opens the door and sees me looking dead, he bursts into tears and wets himself, saying he's killed somebody. Later on, a human trafficker spots me on the street. The second his hand clamps over my mouth, I slip right into character, not even bothering to focus my eyes. He scoops me up, runs to the ER so hard that he's practically flying, and has a breakdown. He yells, "I had nothing to do with this! He was dead when I found him!" When I turn 18, my ultra-rich biological parents finally come to take me home. I'm not exactly eager to move, but once I hear that I won't even have to roll over in bed by myself at their home, I reluctantly agree to go with them. The moment I step through the door, there's trouble. Ethan Ziegler, the fake heir, slips, and the bowl of soup in his hand flies straight for my face—he wants to see me make a fool of myself. Dodging sounds way too hard on my lower back, so I let him drench me from head to toe and just go down like a felled tree. The room goes dead silent. Then my elder sister, Felicia Ziegler, rushes over and holds her finger under my nose. Her face turns pale, and she collapses onto the floor. "H-He… he's not breathing!"

On Mom's death anniversary, drug dealers break into the cemetery and take me away. To get revenge on my brother, Zack Smith—a forensic pathologist—they torture me until there isn't even a single uninjured spot left on my body. I hold on for almost three days, barely surviving, until I finally get a chance to call him for help. However, Zack replied, "Why didn't they kill you for good? A jinx like you who killed your own mother shouldn't be allowed to live!" When the drug dealers notice my action, they shatter all of my bones. The next day, a janitor discovers several large bags of human remains in the trash can. Zack painstakingly reassembles my body back together with his own hands—yet he fails to recognize that it's me, his younger sister he always claims to hate. When the drug dealers are finally arrested, he descends into madness.

I was the real son, finally found and brought back by my billionaire parents, only to be diagnosed with leukemia right after. The only person who matched my bone marrow was the adopted son, Doug Daniel. So my parents rushed to bring him back into the family, making him my donor. To make it up to him, they did everything they could for him. My parents handed over the inheritance. My fiancée, Moira Stevens, hovered around him every day. When the pain got so bad that I could barely stand it, my parents pointed at me and snapped, "Jay! You keep bringing up your illness. Are you really that eager to take away Doug's health?" Moira, a medical school professor, didn't hold back either. "I'm a doctor. You think I don't understand your condition? You act like you're dying every single day. You just can't stand that we're being nice to Doug." On the day of the transplant, I lay on the operating table and waited. But Moira, the one in charge of harvesting Doug's marrow, never came in. I closed my eyes and waited for death. None of them knew I had already signed up to donate my body.

To get me out of the way for Simon Luther, the man who steals my position as heir of the Luther family, the three young women my dad took in as children and raised alongside me work together to send me to prison. "Once you get out of jail, one of us will marry you—but on one condition. You'd better take this secret to the grave." To stop me from revealing the truth, the three women even fed me a drug that rendered me mute. As the years go by, the endless and inhumane torment I endure in prison slowly destroys what feelings and affection I have for the three women I once considered my sisters. When we meet again, I watch impassively as the three of them fight to win the auction that gives them the chance to marry Simon. Chuckling, I arrange for the key evidence of Simon's crimes to be put up for auction. The three of them seem to have a thing for making bids. Let's see them scramble to win this one.

On the day my daughter, Lily Bellini, turns one month old, my mother, Margaret Bellini, hands me adoption papers. "You and Victoria are twins," she says. "Rather than adopting a child from an orphanage, she’d be much better off taking your child." My twin sister, Victoria Bellini, has been married for five years, but she's been so busy with her career that she remains childless. Now, however, her husband, Alexander Cordone, needs the perfect family image to land a major promotion. So, just like every other time over the past twenty-odd years, she turns to me. When we were kids and Victoria needed to pad her résumé, Mom snatched the coveted summer camp spot I worked so hard to earn and handed it to her. When we grew up and she wanted to get into a top-tier law firm, Mom drained my college fund to pull strings and open doors for her. And now, she wants a child, so Mom sets her sights on my daughter. For the first time in my life, I tell Mom, "No." But clearly, neither of them takes my refusal seriously. Victoria has already picked out a new name for Lily, and Alexander has even made an announcement on Instagram. "After a long wait, our little angel is finally here." Watching them brazenly try to steal my own flesh and blood, I finally snap. I point straight at the front door and snarl, "Get out!" Mom's face instantly darkens. "You're a penniless single mother. Raising that child by yourself will only drag you straight to the bottom of society. By taking her off your hands, Victoria is helping you cut your losses. You should be grateful." I grab the whiskey bottle off the table and hurl it into the fireplace. In the past, when I was crying helplessly, there was no one around to protect me. But now, I can protect myself.