Plot Twists Short Stories & Hypocrisy Biological Family Novels

My best friend, Mia Sullivan, called me in tears. She told me that a creep had been stalking her and that she was too scared to stay in her apartment alone. In my past life, I felt sorry for her, so I agreed to let her stay at my house. Two weeks later, Mia uploaded a video online in which she accused my dad of having assaulted her. She cried her eyes out. The video instantly sparked outrage online. My dad’s reputation was ruined. He fell into depression and eventually jumped to his death. Even then, Mia kept demanding compensation from my family. She took everything we had until we went bankrupt. I had nothing left to live for, but she only looked at me with a mocking smile. “Charlotte, thank you for giving me the chance to gain both fame and fortune.” I returned to the past on the day Mia called me in tears. “Charlotte, please help me. There’s a man who keeps following me. My apartment isn’t safe anymore. I’m scared…” I forced down the joy that surged through me. “Sure. Come stay at my house.”

Mom and Dad have been divorced for ten years. One day, I come across a discussion thread. "Are all children of divorce having it hard?" I join the discussion. "Not always. Personally, I'm living pretty decently. After my parents' divorce, my sister and I were separated—one of us went to live with our paternal grandparents, and the other with our maternal grandparents. "For the last ten years, my parents have visited me once a year. Although they usually only stay for a few days, I can tell that they still love me." Within a minute, someone replies to my comment. "Girl, are you sure? My parents are divorced as well, but they can't bear to leave me at all. I've been with them since I was a kid. On weekdays, I stay with my mom. On the weekend, I go to my dad's. "Honestly, it's like they never divorced at all. LOL." I tap into her profile. The pinned post is a photo of Mom, Dad, and my sister, Hazel Foster. They hug her from either side. The caption reads, "A divorce can end a marriage, but it can't erase the bond we share. I'm glad I'll always be their precious baby." Meanwhile, this morning, Mom replies to me, "Your dad and I have been divorced for so long. Just get him to drop you off at college. It's awkward for me to be there." The next second, I receive Dad's reply. "Ask your mom. I'm a man. What do I know about things like orientation and college? I'll visit you someday when I'm free." I go back to the discussion thread and write back to Hazel. "You're right. Whether or not a child of divorce gets to live a normal life depends entirely on whether the parents still want their child in their lives." After closing the page, I open my email and sign up for an international volunteer program. My destination is a field hospital in a war zone five thousand miles away, where I will spend the next two years. There's no need for me to wait until Mom and Dad have time for me again. I'm never coming back here.

Mom's hearing comes and goes. She never hears me when I tell her I want to buy a new pair of shoes because my old pair has a hole. But when my sister, Stella Woodson, mentions that she wants to eat a birthday cake, she immediately gives me some money and tells me to run through the rain to buy one. Only two shrimps are left on the table. I carefully ask if I can have one. The next second, Mom peels both shrimps and puts them on Stella's plate. She then turns to me with a confused expression, asking, "Did you say something, Luna? I didn't hear you." I hang my head in embarrassment and push the mashed potatoes around on my plate, mumbling that I didn't say anything. Later, Mom makes plans to take Stella to Destinyland to enjoy the night scenery. My body aches terribly. I carefully tug on Mom's sleeve and say, "I'm in a lot of pain, Mom." Mom gives me her usual response. "What did you say, Luna? I didn't hear you." She impatiently swats my hand away before I can get another word in, saying, "Stella and I are leaving now to handle some urgent business. Behave yourself while you're home alone."

My mother, Agatha Carper, is obsessed with playing the devoted-mother role. To show what a kind and loving person she is, she has spent years sharing her journey of caring for her adopted daughter, Bonnie Lowe, online. "Bonnie, even if I have to spend every last penny I have, I'll cure you." To make that happen, she treats me, her biological daughter, like a walking blood bank and drains me for everything I'm worth. Just as the internet is praising her for being the perfect mother, Bonnie has another relapse and urgently needs a blood transfusion. Agatha storms into the hospital emergency room with a swarm of reporters and a camera crew, kicking the door open. "Where is Julia Lowe, that ungrateful brat? She eats my food and lives off me. Now that her sister's sick, she's hiding away and pretending she's dead?" She rushes straight to the nurses' station and starts wailing in front of the cameras. "Everyone knows how much I've sacrificed for this family! Yet, that ungrateful brat has the nerve to refuse to donate blood! Draw 800 cc from her right now! She can survive that much!" The head nurse steps out, her expression cold, and slams a death certificate in front of the camera. "There's nothing else to take. You forcibly drained her of her blood a month ago, and she died from massive blood loss after developing complications."

On my birthday, my acceptance letter from Mar University finally arrived. Mom even did something completely out of character: she ordered my favorite strawberry cake. For a moment, I thought my parents had finally remembered that today wasn’t just the day for my brother’s medical checkup—it was my birthday, too. However, right after I blew out the candles, Mom pulled out my brother’s acceptance letter from a local community college. “Mason, your brother didn’t do well in his SATs, so he’ll only be able to get into a community college,” she said. “His health is poor, and he can’t handle the stress of retaking the SATs.” Dad cleared his throat, assuming his usual stance as the head of the family. “You two are identical twins, and you look completely alike,” he stated. “So we’ve talked it over. We’re going to have Ethan use your identification and report to Mar University in your place.” The sweet smell of strawberries filled my nose, but it only made me feel sick to my stomach. I stared at Dad, wondering if I had misheard him. “What about me, then?” Mom instantly grabbed my hand. “You’ll use Ethan’s identity to retake your senior year and try again next year,” she urged. “You’re in good health, and you’ve always gotten good grades. Isn’t it just a one-year delay?” It was that same excuse again. Ever since we were kids, I had to give up countless things just because my brother was frail. But this time, this was my life, and I didn’t want to give it up anymore.

The seventh time my parents asked my brother, Ethan Parker, to blow out the candles on my birthday cake for me, I finally broke down. Ever since Ethan came back after being missing for three years, I had become the most insignificant person in the family. In a fit of anger, I ran down to the river outside the restaurant. I wanted to use my own life to make my parents understand how much they had hurt me. Ethan was dressed in an expensive suit. His eyes turned teary with guilt. “I’m sorry, Xeno. I know I never should’ve come back and taken Mom and Dad away from you.” The next second, before anyone could react, he climbed over the railing and jumped into the river. My parents searched for him day and night for three days, but they could not find his body. They looked worn out after that. Our family’s financial situation also grew worse by the day. From that day on, they devoted all their love and attention to me. I knew I had benefited from a terrible tragedy, and the guilt stayed with me. When I started college, I worked as hard as I could to pay for my own tuition and help support my parents. I thought our family would live a quiet, ordinary life from then on. Finally, the day came when I graduated from college. I went home early because I wanted to surprise my parents. Instead, I saw them outside an upscale restaurant near our house. They were dressed in expensive clothes, and Ethan was with them. Dad gave Ethan an affectionate pat on the shoulder and said, “This time, stay a few extra days when you travel around Avelon. “Xeno will be home soon, so we won’t be able to go out with you. If you need money, just ask us.” For a moment, the whole world seemed to spin around me. That night, I opened my email and looked through the job offers I had received. I chose the one that would take me the farthest from home.

After watching my mother’s marriage fall apart disastrously, I somehow went back ten years into the past and ran into my mother’s younger self. My mother had asked me excitedly, “Zoe, after your dad’s undercover operation ended, did he give me a wedding? Like, was it churchy or more modern? Did we end up in that nice house with the big backyard?” I forced down the lump in my throat and answered her, “There was no wedding. You didn’t get a house either. As for Dad… he married someone else.” My mother was silent for a long time. I thought she did not believe me, so I grew anxious and said, “Mom, you need to leave him now. If you stay, your life will fall apart. “He has a daughter named Melody, who turned out to be my classmate. He was never an undercover agent. He’s actually the heir of Xanders Group in Harbor City. He’s been lying to you this whole time and pretending to be broke just to string you along. “Melody’s mom eventually found out about you. You lost your job and home. In the end, you fell into depression and took your own life.” I noticed my mother’s eyes welling up in tears. “Today’s Children’s Day, right? You probably saw Dad taking some woman and her daughter to a theme park, didn’t you? “Go talk to that woman. Ask her about it. Then, you’ll learn the truth.”

As my murderer's claws tear into my abdomen inch by inch, my father and brother are seated in our family's banquet hall. They're celebrating Carly's 18th birthday and coming-of-age. "You'll always be my little girl." "Happy birthday, Carly." They light 18 pink candles for her. On top of the exquisite red velvet cake is a wolf figurine that they carved for her, and there are well wishes and laughter all around. Meanwhile, I'm curled up in a sewer filled with liquid silver as I bleed to death. My phone has been crushed, and I can't get out. I can only cry for help. A few days later, my father and brother show up together at the autopsy room. My brother stands by the operating table with a scalpel. He slices open the body and sews it back up like it's nothing. My father just covers his nose as he shoots a disgusted glance at my body. He urges my brother to hurry up with the autopsy report. "The victim is a young female wolf presumed to be of pure lineage. Before her death, she was subjected to prolonged captivity and torture. Her throat is nearly severed, her cervical spine is dislocated, and her chest cavity has collapsed. She was also injected with liquid silver before death." Hearing the report, my father looks so calm that it's just like a case study of no consequence. Neither of them can recognize that the body belongs to me—their daughter and sister!

My mom bought me a house with zero down payment. For five years, I scrimped and saved until I finally paid off the mortgage. But then, she told me she wanted to transfer the house to her first love's son to use as his wedding home. When I said no, she pulled out the property deed and slapped it down in front of me. "The house is in my name. I'll give it to whoever I want. You'd better hand it over willingly, or don't blame me for forgetting we're family." So I pulled out another deed—this one with my name on it—and called 911. "Hello? I'd like to report a trespasser."

In my family, there's only one rule—I always come first. When I was ten years old, I pulled my brother Noah Fincher and sister Amanda Fincher, who are twins, from our burning house, leaving me with a permanently damaged leg. To keep me from getting upset, Mom forces Amanda, the star ballerina, to give up dancing. Dad makes Noah work at a factory every school break to help pay for my medical expenses. But as the years go by, the pain in my scarred joints only gets worse. I ask Amanda if we can switch bedrooms so I can have her first-floor room. She snaps and starts smashing things around the room. Noah says nothing. He just takes her and leaves. They don't come home for three days. Dad is furious and forces me to kneel as punishment. Mom slaps me and screams at me. "Because of you, Amanda can't dance anymore, and Noah's hands are covered in calluses! Now you even want Amanda's room? I wish you'd just died in that fire instead of dragging them down with you!" I stare into their cold, resentful eyes. Then I remember the invitation I received from an academy for disabled students. My damaged leg might not carry me far, but it can carry me far enough to stop being a burden to them.

Ever since I was little, my mother, Cynthia, used me as a living cautionary tale whenever she wanted to teach my older brother, Oliver, a lesson. When Oliver bullied a kid at school, she made me shave my head and pick up trash so he could see what it was like to be humiliated and laughed at. When Oliver stole an action camera from an outdoor gear store, she made me kneel in the snow and apologize to the manager so he'd learn what shame felt like. Lately, Oliver had become obsessed with extreme sports and started messing with pills from who-knows-where. To make the lesson stick, Mom secretly mixed something that would make me throw up and a muscle relaxant into the vitamin capsules I took after breakfast every day. She figured a dose that small would only make me throw up and give me diarrhea, just enough to scare my brother. But I had a bad cold and had already taken cold medicine. The combination of drugs soon left me struggling to breathe. I collapsed on the rug, convulsing. Dad rushed me to the ER, but on the way, we hit a police checkpoint. He'd already passed the breathalyzer when Mom shouted at the officers, "You need to check him again! He's on sedatives. How did you miss that?" She pointed at me in the back seat, my face already turning blue, then jerked her chin toward Oliver. "See that? Are you ever going to swallow random pills people give you again?" Oliver burst into tears and swore he'd never touch those pills again. Only then did Mom look satisfied. What she didn't notice was that her living cautionary tale could barely lift a hand. Mom, you're always complaining that Oliver never learns his lesson. Maybe losing me will finally teach him the lesson you've been trying so hard to drill into him. Would that make you happy?

I am the daughter of the Alpha of the Blood Moon Pack, my parents are very rich, but I have nothing. When black magic was eating away at me with a month to live, I asked to borrow ten dollars and they said I was "not worthy." I dragged my sickly body to buy the cheapest herbal medicine, but I saw them spending billions of dollars to celebrate my foster sister Vivian's 18th birthday. Tears streamed down my face, I just wanted to spend ten dollars on a piece of fabric and make my own ceremonial robe, even though I wouldn't live to be eighteen.

With my first paycheck, I buy three air conditioners for my family. But when I come home from work, I find that my west-facing bedroom is still sweltering like an oven. And there's a huge winter melon sitting on my bed. Mom proudly pats its skin. "We moved the air conditioners into your brother's and sister's rooms. We had one left over, so we installed it in your sister's art studio. "The outdoor unit for your room would be right outside your sister's window, and the humming would keep her awake at night. Just sleep with a winter melon. It'll keep you cool enough." I open my mouth, but the dull ache in my chest leaves me unable to speak. She has forgotten that I was hospitalized for heatstroke just last month. The doctor warned me to stay out of the heat after I was discharged. I turn toward the studio at the end of the hallway. Cool air spills through the crack beneath the door. Dad is adjusting the lighting over my sister's easel. My brother is holding a freshly cut slice of chilled watermelon to her lips. And my boyfriend of three years is carefully adjusting the airflow for her with the remote. "Angle the vents upward. Don't let her catch a cold." I wipe the sweat from my forehead and stare at the ridiculous winter melon on my bed. Suddenly, I don't want to fight for anything anymore. I take out my phone and reply to my supervisor. "You said I could become a permanent employee early if I transferred to the new branch in Veymont. I agree." After making it through twenty-two summers, all I want is to give myself a spring that never ends.

My parents want my sister, Rachael Booth, to marry rich so badly they try to talk her into dropping out of high school during her senior year. I do everything I can to stop them. "Mom, Dad, women can take care of themselves these days. Besides, wealthy families care about education too!" They back down because of my words. But later, Rachael never marries into money. Instead, she falls for a hooligan in college and ends up in an abusive marriage. Mom screams at me, "This is all your fault, you jinx! If we hadn't listened to you, Rachael would be living the high life right now!" Dad is just as furious. "You just want to ruin her life, don't you? You just can't stand to see your sister happy!" Rachael buys into their narrative completely, genuinely believing I am the one who ruined her future. One night, she kills me with a knife. When I open my eyes, I realize I'm right back to the day Mom is trying to convince Rachael to give up on college.

After the college entrance exam ended, my younger sister, who had been my only family for seven years, told me calmly, "I left the whole thing blank." I froze and could not get a single word out. A look of vengeful satisfaction crossed her face as she went on, "Jett Sullivan and I never broke up either. I left it blank for him. His grades are awful, so there's no way he's getting into a good college. I promised him we'd spend all four years just having fun." Her words cut straight through me, yet she did not seem to think she had done anything wrong. She met my eyes openly and coldly. "The exam's over now anyway. If you're fine with me dating Jett, I'll still call you my brother. If not, we cut ties for good." She glanced at my trembling hands and paused. "If you still want me as your sister, fine. Give Jett every paycheck you've earned all these years. Think of it as a gift to him."

The year my sister turned fifteen, my father, Grant Davis, became obsessed with holding auctions at home. Everything in the house, from a plate of meat to a turn with the washing machine, from school lunch money to after-school activity fees, had to be won by bidding with family credits. I worked odd jobs until I dropped, sleeping only three hours a night, and finally saved up a thick stack of family credits, the paper soft and warped from my sweat. All Melody had to do was sit on the couch and shed a few tears, and my father would stuff fistfuls of credits into her arms. "Girls deserve to be spoiled. Can't have Melody feeling left out." That day, the item up for auction was an old necklace that had belonged to my grandmother, Ruth Bennett. Eyes burning, I pushed everything I had onto the table. "Eight thousand." Melody tossed out ten thousand without a second thought, her voice sweet and wheedling. "This necklace would go perfectly with my new dress." I begged my father through tears. "This is the only thing Grandma ever left me. Please." My father slapped me so hard my ears rang and my vision blurred. "Highest bidder wins. That's the rule! You're too poor to win, so don't blame anyone else!" Melody snatched the necklace, gave it a look of disgust, and casually tossed it into the roaring fireplace. "Oops, the fire's getting low. This'll make good kindling." I threw myself at the fireplace. The back of my hand split open instantly from the heat, the skin blistering and peeling away. They left, slamming the door behind them, complaining that my screaming was bad luck in the house. Later, I couldn't stop thinking. If I put my own life on the auction block, how many credits would you bid?

The day I finish my college entrance exam, I drag my suitcase back to my parents' house downtown. When Mom opens the door, the first thing she says is, "Now that your college entrance exam is over, stay home for a while." She says a while, not for good. There are three children in our family. My older brother, Samuel Stroud, and my younger sister, Isabelle Stroud, have always lived with our parents, while I was raised by my grandparents. Samuel has his own study, while Isabelle has her own bedroom. I sleep in the living room. Everything they give me is temporary. My toothbrush is disposable, my slippers are disposable, and even my towel is disposable. I don't even have a key to the house. "You don't come home often," Mom always says. "What do you need a key for?" So every time I come back, I stand outside the door like a guest, waiting for someone to let me in. But this time, they finally give me a key. Samuel places it in my palm with a smile. "We're going on a trip for a few days. You can stay home and get some proper rest." On the coffee table sit four plane tickets, neatly arranged in a row. They're for Dad, Mom, Samuel, and Isabelle—but not me. I look down at the key I've waited 12 years to have, and suddenly, I laugh. I finally understand why they gave it to me. It isn't a key meant to welcome me home. It's a reminder that it's time for me to leave.

The day SAT scores dropped, my twin sister Emily totally tanked. She cried so hard she could barely breathe. Mom, Dad, and Kenneth spent all night babying her. After midnight, Mom finally remembered I existed. "Amelia, what'd you get?" I checked my score. 1580. "Good enough for Halston." Halston was one of the best colleges in the country. The whole room went dead silent. For one stupid second, I thought they might actually be proud of me. Dad just stared. "You and Emily are twins. You look almost exactly alike. "Why don't you switch identities? "Let Emily go to Halston as you."

After my adopted younger sister, Candace Lane, is reunited with her birth parents, she develops severe psychological issues. Hence, to go along with her treatment, every Thanksgiving becomes the one day when everyone will spoil her. No matter what she requests on that day, nobody is allowed to refuse. This Thanksgiving, Candace takes off her hat to reveal the scar on her forehead and the jagged mess that is her hair. "A few days ago, I had an episode and cut off my hair. Since Lena's hair is so long, it would be perfect to cut and make into a wig for me." I set down my cutlery and slowly shake my head. I haven't cut my hair in 18 years, all because I want my parents to be the ones to cut it for me on my wedding day. Seeing as that day is coming soon, I plan on buying Candace a wig for now. "Maybe you should—Mmph!" Before I can get more than a few words out, Dad has already pressed a warning hand on my shoulder, while my fiancé, Peter Lipton, shakes his head at me and stuffs a bite of spicy lobster into my mouth. Mom heads for the kitchen and returns with a pair of scissors. With a snip, she cuts my hair off to ear length. As Candace's lips curve into a smile, my heart thoroughly shatters in my chest. Eight years. For the past eight years, she has taken away something of mine during every Thanksgiving. A rosary necklace Mom gifted me, a beautiful emerald bangle from Grandma—it didn't matter. Even when Candace already has something better than mine, she still wants to take mine. Peter leans over to murmur in my ear, "This is Candace trying to save herself, so we have to go along with her wishes. With us by your side, all those materialistic things aren't important. If it truly bothers you that much, we can always just wait till your hair grows back before we marry." Peter is her psychologist, and turning Thanksgiving into the day everyone spoils Candace is also his idea. The spiciness of the lobster has tears springing to my eyes. Shoving Peter away from me, I rush to the bathroom. As I stare at my messed-up hair and red lips, swollen due to my shellfish allergy, more tears well in my eyes. This time, I'm not waiting for anyone anymore.

On matriculation day, I carried my acceptance letter to the campus grounds to register alone. But before I could cross the threshold, the guards drove me back into the street with their anti-riot forks. Humiliated and bewildered, I reached for my phone to call my childhood friend, Daisy Reid. A sharp laughter rippled through the receiver. “Violet, are you truly that blind behind those glasses? The letter you swept off the desk was a forgery I mocked up. Your actual one is still sitting at home.” Panicked, I hastily booked a return ticket and hurried back to search for my letter. I scoured the house for hours, turning up nothing. Just then, Daisy’s personalized ringtone sang out from my palm. “Stop looking. “Bryan has it. He’s over at Millfield now.” Without a moment’s hesitation, I boarded the train to Millfield. But the second I stepped out onto the platform, a video call from Daisy flashed onto my display. “You gullible fool, did you genuinely travel all that way to hunt down Bryan? “It was just a joke. “Truth be told, the guards didn’t chase you off because of a counterfeit letter. I tipped them off that you were hauling concealed explosives…” She swung the phone around, showing Bryan Hawke, another childhood friend, who was dotingly fanning her with a brochure. Directly behind them stood my brother Harry, who was supposedly halfway across the globe on an extended getaway. “Hey Violet, what’s with the face? Learn to take a joke for once,” he teased with a chuckle. I could not move an inch. Turned out his elaborate cover story of an overseas holiday was nothing more than a ruse to escort Daisy to her new college. Gazing at the three laughing faces, something dawned on me. Their cruel entertainment, paid for with my dignity for eighteen years, had run its course.