Familial Bond Short Stories & Hypocrisy Regret Novels

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?

My mom and I work our butts off in order to clear Gregory Hudson, my boyfriend's crippling debt. Because of that, Mom even contracts lung cancer. But when I rush to the hospital to pay off the hospital bills, I find out that she's already taken her life by hanging herself. All she leaves is a suicide note. "I can't hang on anymore, Hailey. You should use the money to pay off the debt. Gregory is a good man. I know he loves you; it's just that he's stepped down the wrong path. "Once the debt is cleared, both of you should stay together and live a good life." After collecting Mom's ashes in an urn, I entrust the 300 thousand dollars—the money that Mom has earned with her blood, sweat, and tears—to Gregory. When I return to the company, I accidentally overhear the conversation between Gregory and a few of his debtors. "Mr. Hudson, Ms. Jackman has already passed all of your trials so far. What other arrangements do you have for her?" Gregory's childhood friend, Sophia Wagner, suddenly speaks up. "Even though Hailey can endure all the suffering with you, we still need to test if she can still handle living a good life with you." Gregory purses his lips. "Next, I'd like to know if Hailey's love for me is pure and sincere. If she doesn't pine for my wealth and doesn't become materialistic after finding out about my identity, I will marry her." As I look down at Mom's ashes, I can't help sobbing like a lost child. Both my mom and I are wrong about Gregory. I don't want to marry him anymore.

The light elf royal family had 12 sons before finally welcoming a daughter: me. On the day I was born, the World Tree bloomed again after standing withered for 100 years. Lucia, the High Priestess, announced that I was the only elf of my generation who could hear the Goddess's voice. So my father, the king, gave me the right to choose the heir to the throne. At my coming-of-age ceremony, I gave the heir's mark to Salvador, the brother who loved me most. Then he fell in love with Evelyn, a dark elf. Light elves and dark elves had been enemies for generations, and our kingdom forbade marriage between the two peoples. I was the one who talked my father and the council into allowing the match. But the day after the wedding, Evelyn shackled me with enchanted ashwood chains. “Tomorrow I'm handing you over to Morvane, the dark elf lord. Once he has a light elf princess, he can cross the border whenever he likes. “In return, he'll give me three crystal mines. With those, I can help Salvador rule over the light elves.” I couldn't help but scoff at the smug look on her face. She thought Salvador had earned his vast territories and his position as the heir to the throne through his own strength. What she didn't know was that he had them because I'd chosen him. I'd even fought for her right to live in light elf lands. I clenched my fists, and a crack split the chains. “As the princess of the light elves, I'm taking back everything I've given you both.” She wanted to throw me out? Fine. I'd make sure she lost her place as the crown prince's wife.

The Westmere pack had one rule about the Alpha's seat: only the Alpha's biological children could inherit it. I was my parents' only child. For as long as I could remember, I'd known I would become the first female Alpha in our pack's history. The trouble was that I hated being tied down. My father spoiled me, so he took in my cousin Evan Hale to take care of pack business for me. Evan had to pass an annual review on New Year's Day to keep his job as my assistant. But in 13 years, I never once took those reviews seriously. I passed Evan every single time. Over time, every wolf in the pack came to see me as the Alpha heir in name only. They believed Evan was the one my father really wanted to take over. Then Evan decided to marry Winona Crane, the daughter of Victor Crane, the Emberwind Alpha. Victor had heard all about Evan's achievements, and he agreed to the marriage without a second thought. To celebrate, I went out and conquered three new territories as a gift for Evan. I also gave Winona a villa to welcome her to Westmere. But on their first day as mates, she sold the villa. On the second day, she revoked my fingerprint access to every restricted area in the pack. Then she sent me a bill. "Lorelei Hale, I had no idea you'd spent 85 million dollars of Evan's money over the years." "You're a grown woman now, You can't keep dragging Evan down, can you?" "I want you to swear on the Moon Goddess that you'll pay back every cent within a month." I pointed at myself, wondering if I'd heard her right. "Me? Pay you back? Is this what Evan wants too?" Winona frowned. "What, are you trying to weasel out of paying?" I actually laughed. Sure, Evan had handled pack business for me for 13 years. But Westmere had never belonged to him. The only reason he'd kept his job as my assistant was that I'd waved him through his review year after year. And as it happened, the new year was only three days away. There was still time to revise Evan's review.

My mother, Sophie Nash, was also my homeroom teacher, and she loved nothing more than using me to assert her authority. She was convinced that the worse off I was, the more afraid my classmates would be, and the higher her authority would be. Once, when I passed an eraser to a classmate during class, she slapped me so hard across the face in front of the whole class that my face swelled up. Another time, after I secretly ate a crumb of a classmate’s snack during recess, my mom dragged me up to the front of the classroom and pricked my lip with a needle until blood gushed out. Later, when a classmate was caught by the vice principal for having a romantic relationship while underaged, my mom flat-out claimed it was me. Without a word of explanation, she dragged me into the hallway and stripped me naked. She then went to the vice principal’s office while laughing along. “I’m so sorry, Mr. Lennon. It’s my fault for not raising Stella Nash properly. Rest assured, I’ll make sure to punish her severely this time!” The vice principal had furrowed his brow. “What do you mean by Stella Nash? This isn’t the student involved in the early romance.” Sophie paused for a moment. Then, she said nonchalantly, “Oh, never mind. Let’s just make an example of her. “Stella gets into trouble all the time anyway. She can handle one more punishment.” She did not know that every time she struck me, I secretly deducted one point in my mind. Just a moment ago, I had already accumulated 100 points. Without hesitation, I leaped out the window of the sixth-floor hallway. ‘Mom, is asserting authority through death enough?’ I thought.

My girlfriend and I had agreed to marry as soon as we graduated. But after I waited three hours at the registration hall, she registered with my stepbrother instead. He had been in love with her for ten years, and now he was being sent to the deadliest front in space. “He won't survive without me,” she said. “Once he's gone, I'll still be yours.” My father and stepmother told me to be the bigger person. As I looked at their self-righteous faces, I accepted a command at the same front and became my stepbrother's highest-ranking superior. By the time news of my victories—and my wedding—reached home, every one of them had lost their minds with regret.

Jethro Miles was an orphan sponsored by my dad. The moment I laid eyes on him, I flipped. Despite my family's objections, we dated for seven years, even as my dad threatened to disown me. Eventually, my dad relented and consented to our marriage. But as we exchanged rings, a young woman in a white dress burst into the venue, staring at Jethro with tears in her eyes. He chased after her, abandoning our wedding. Later, I learned that the woman was his childhood friend from the orphanage. Jethro desperately tried to explain, "Nancy grew up with me. She is like a sister to me. She's been through abuse and divorce. Please, give me time to help her, okay?" Tears blurred my vision as I watched him plead so fervently, my heart plummeting into despair. I managed, "Okay." Jethro took care of Nancy and her son as if they were his real family. What he didn't know were the two secrets I'd kept from him when my dad finally agreed to our marriage: I was pregnant, and I was dying.

Mom always said I was dead to the world when I slept. I would suddenly doze off in the middle of class, while eating, even halfway across the street. My homeroom teacher suggested I get checked at a hospital, but Mom brushed it off with a scoff. "She just stayed up all night on her phone!" After that, my phone was confiscated, the lock on my door was removed, and every time I showed the slightest sign of drowsiness, I got slapped awake. I did not want to be hit, and I did not want Mom to get angry, so I started pinching my thighs, yanking my hair, even downing medicated oil just to stay awake. But when that wave of sleep hit, nothing could stop it. On the day of the final exam, Mom happened to be assigned as one of the proctors. I bit through my lip, silently begging myself, 'Just this once. Just hold on.' But in the end, I still couldn't fight it. The desk was suddenly flipped over. I went down with my chair, crashing hard onto the floor. My head struck the edge of the desk, and darkness swallowed everything in an instant. Mom stood beside me, furious and disappointed. "Cecelia Thorne, are you really so obsessed with sleeping that you don't even care about your final exams? If you're that lazy, then lie there and keep sleeping!" I lay sprawled over my exam paper, my vision dimming bit by bit. Mom, this time, I might really sleep for a long, long time.

At the ceremony where my mother, Helena Marlow, received the Best Homeroom Teacher award, the parents wept with gratitude. They praised her for nurturing the students successfully without ever resorting to harsh discipline, and for helping them all to excellent results. But no one knew that the path to their children’s success had been paved by Mom, using me as a warning to others. When someone in the class stole money, cheated on an exam, or got into a romantic relationship, I was the one punished. During the ceremony, the principal, Ms. Wanda Ambrose, stepped onto the stage to present her award. She asked, “Ms. Marlow, you have so many outstanding students in your class. Which student are you most proud of?” Mom smiled with quiet pride. “They are all like my own children. I love every one of them.” Then she let out a small sigh. “Except for my daughter. She alone fails to live up to expectations and disappoints me every time.” Laughter and applause rose from the audience below the stage. They nodded in understanding and praised her for being so modest. I drifted to her side and looked at the satisfied curve of her lips before speaking softly. “Don’t worry, Mom. From now on, I won’t disappoint you anymore.”

Astrid was aware that her daughter, Coco, loved her father. The problem was that the father, Isaiah, did not love her, nor did he love Coco; he only ever allowed Coco to address him as uncle. After Isaiah dismissed the three chances Coco gave him, she decided she was going to leave him for good. It was only then that Isaiah changed his mind and started pleading desperately, “My dear, I want nothing more than to hear you call me your father.”

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?

To prove she wasn't playing favorites, I was the first person to donate blood at the Pack Blood Drive my mother had organized. The drive had been ordered by the North American Lycan Council after a rogue attack overwhelmed three regional blood banks. If Silverpine Pack met its quota before midnight, Mom would pass the final review for the promotion she had pursued for seven years. The collection bag had barely reached one hundred milliliters when my vision darkened. My heart battered against my ribs so hard that every beat hurt. I reached for the clamp on the tubing. "Could you stop? I think something is wrong." Tessa, the technician assigned to me, caught my wrist. "Do not touch the line. A standard unit is four hundred and fifty milliliters." She studied my bloodless face with open irritation. "Every other donor finished. If the director's daughter quits, what do you think people will say?" Mom stood only a few steps away, her brows furrowed. "Lyra, being my daughter does not exempt you from the rules. It means you should be especially careful to follow them. If your screening says you are eligible, finish the unit." I tried to remind her that my medical file carried a permanent donation restriction. Then I saw the temporary silver commission badge pinned above her heart. She had spent seven years earning it. If this was what she needed from me, I could endure a little longer. Blood continued sliding through the clear tube. By the time the third sample vial was filled, every sound in the hall seemed to move underwater. Before I lost consciousness, I had only one thought. I am sorry, Mom. I wanted so badly to help you reach the final number. This time, I do not think I can.

My younger brother had stage four kidney cancer. Our parents demanded that I donate a kidney to save him. I told them I only had one kidney left. The transplant would kill me. Instead of listening to me, they forcibly strapped me to the operating table. “It’s just one kidney! Stop being so selfish!” they yelled. They did not care that I was telling the truth. Years ago, I had given my other kidney to save my father after his car crash.

When my best friend died, his wife, Mia Lewis, was eight months pregnant. Mia said she didn't want her baby growing up without a father. I owed my best friend my life. He saved me, literally pulled me from death's door. So I stepped up, marrying Mia and raising their son as my own. Mia loved her career, so I quit mine. Traded my job for diapers and school runs. For seven whole years, I cooked, cleaned, folded laundry, and handled the housework. Rain or shine, sickness or health, I was there—every single day. Mia, though? She stayed cold, distant. Her warmth only surfaced in the bedroom—and even then, it was a flicker, never a flame. Just soft sighs and breathy murmurs, like she was playing a role she couldn't wait to finish. Afterward, she would quietly check the condom, as if she couldn't trust me. Then came New Year's Eve. A snap. A tear. A broken condom. Her fury struck like a thunderclap. She locked me out on the balcony, left me standing in the freezing rain, soaked to the bone as the wind howled like a wounded beast. Teeth chattering, I shivered as I watched the door like a dog, waiting to be let in. Then I saw him. Our boy, Ethan Bailey. Six years old. My son, at least in name. He came running with an umbrella in his hand. For a second, my heart leapt. 'Maybe, just maybe…' But he didn't even look at me. Just walked past in silence and handed the umbrella to the nanny heading out. Right then and there, something inside me cracked. I knew it was time to go.

After scoring high on the college entrance exams, I used my brother, Cameron Morrow’s laptop to look up dresses for my university acceptance party. Just as I was about to close his chat app that had been automatically logged in, a group chat notification suddenly popped up on the screen. "Naomi’s been in a bad mood lately. Let’s go somewhere with her for a few days and come back before Stella’s party." Something in my chest tightened, so I clicked into the chat without thinking. There were only four people inside: Dad, Mom, Cameron, and my cousin, Naomi Gibson. Then Cameron replied, "Fine. Just don’t bring Stella. I’m sick of her. If she hadn’t hidden Naomi’s exam admission ticket on the last day, Naomi wouldn’t have failed the exams." Mom quickly responded, "I never thought Stella would stoop that low just to fight for attention. Good thing she still did well on the exams. I heard reporters from the local station are coming to interview her at the party. The relatives are all desperate to attend." Then Dad sent a voice message. "Oh, right, isn’t Naomi trying to become an influencer? Tell her to dress up nicely that day." I stared at the glowing screen, my nails digging hard into my palm. Then suddenly, I laughed. Picking up my phone, I called my homeroom teacher, Ms. Adrianna Wilson. "Ms. Wilson, I’m canceling the party. And please cancel the media interview too."

For as long as I can remember, my family and I have been living in an underground basement that's completely shut off from the outside world. My parents have told me that the zombie apocalypse is terrorizing the outside world. The air is completely plagued with the zombie virus, and we'll die if we ever leave the basement. In order to save the supplies—which are already dwindling, to begin with—I've starved myself to the point I'm all skin and bones despite being only 18 years old. When I realize that there's only one last can of food left, I leave behind a suicide note. "Mom, Dad, now there's one less mouth to feed. You'll last a few more days." After that, I slit my wrist right away. Once I'm dead, my soul phases through the thick and heavy metal door. Bright sunlight illuminates the entire world. It's a beautiful, peaceful world filled with greenery. I can even hear birds chirping in the distance. Mom, Dad, and a bunch of people are throwing a barbecue party on the lawn. The mouth-watering smell of food being grilled permeates the air. So, it turns out that the zombie apocalypse is just a lie that's designated to trap me inside the fortress. I'm the only one who has died in this sunny, peaceful world.

My dad, who has gotten remarried and cut off contact with me years ago, suddenly sends me one dollar via Venmo, saying he wants to borrow my new car for two days. Thinking he wants to mend our relationship, I remind him to take good care of it before handing over the keys. That very afternoon, I stumble across a livestream of my half-brother street racing. The car he's driving is unmistakably my brand-new vehicle. In the livestream, the car is covered in crude graffiti, and the interior is a mess. I immediately take a cab over to stop my half-brother, only to be humiliated by him during our first meeting. "Who the hell are you? My dad says I'm his only son!" Only then do I realize that I no longer have a place in my dad's life. What they don't know is that the car is a gift from my CEO girlfriend. And she never lets anyone bully the people she cares about.

My elder sister, Alice, was a white wolf. A witch had foretold that my power would devour hers, that the moment I shifted during our coming-of-age ceremony, she would die. The only way to save her was to suppress my power, let her shift first at the ceremony, and break the curse. To save her, my parents spent eighteen years breaking me. And the night before our ceremony, they followed the witch's orders and locked me in the basement with silver-banded iron chains. "Be good, Maria. The silver will only delay your shift. Just get through tomorrow, and your sister lives. Then we can all stop suffering." The chains pressed against my chest. I could barely breathe. But something was wrong. My shift was starting, early. I slammed my fists against the door. "Mom, it's starting. I'm shifting now—" "Don't lie to me." Her voice cut through, sharp and loud. "The witch said both of you shift on ceremony day. Or are you really that eager to watch your sister die?" Footsteps faded down the hall. The pain hit, searing, ripping through every bone. I curled into the corner, feeling my wolf slip away.

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?

On the third day I was brought back to my family, the fake heir, Christopher Parker, gets into a car crash in order to frame me as the mastermind. His mental state has deteriorated to one belonging to an eight-year-old. My older sister, Eliza Parker, thinks that I'm the one who hired someone to hit Christopher with a car. Because of that, she hates my guts and torments me endlessly. In order to take care of Christopher, Eliza eats with him and sleeps beside him every day. As for me, I'm used as the human mat that they can step on anytime they want. I'm arranged to take care of Christopher so that I can atone for my sins. As long as Christopher reveals an aggrieved expression, I'll get whipped ten times regardless of the cause. I thought Eliza would find out the truth sooner or later. But in her haste to cure Christopher, she actually decides to send me to an underground lab as a test subject for their experiments just because the doctors there claim that the medication can help restore Christopher's mental state. Five years later, Eliza finally comes to pick me up. A mocking smile is etched onto her face as she sees how haggard I am. "You should recognize your faults by now. It's been five years, after all. If you dare lay a finger on Christopher after coming home with me, I'll definitely send you back here." I raise my head hazily, tears soon seeping out of my eyes due to how bright the light is. Then, I mutter softly, "There won't be a next time…" Eliza won't have to worry about me seizing a chance to hurt her beloved Christopher. After all, the drug experiments conducted on me for the past five years have already ruined my body. There are only seven days left in my life span.