Familial Bond Short Stories & Independence Face Slapping Novels

The Fletcher family, known as the most prestigious and wealthiest family in Baymouth, has hosted a musical banquet. That event is actually a cover-up for blind dates between the rich and the elite. My younger sister, Evelyn Burch, and I are on the guest list. The banquet is filled with strict rules. Every socialite is required to wear a mask before they take turns entering the banquet hall just to put on a performance. In my previous life, Evelyn couldn't hold her jealousy back simply because I had stayed in the banquet hall for almost 20 minutes. Right after I came out, she worked with a music professor and accused me of plagiarizing her musical scores. I couldn't even defend myself when I saw two copies of the identical music scores. My parents refused to listen to my explanation. They were quick to pin the blame on me just so they could protect Evelyn's innocence. Heck, they even admitted me into a mental asylum by force and allow the staff to torture me there. I finally managed to escape, only to die in a car accident that was staged by Evelyn. Only when I took my last breath did I find out that the blood worthed even less than one of Evelyn's lies. When I open my eyes again, I realize that I've gotten reborn. So, I start playing games on my phone when it's my turn to perform on the stage. This time, I want to see how Evelyn can accuse me for cheating when I never even get to hold a musical instrument in this lifetime.

I couldn’t speak until I was eight years old. Everyone in the Sterling family called me dumb. Even my mother would secretly wipe away tears, convinced she had given birth to an autistic daughter. Whenever my father looked at me, his eyes were filled with nothing but disappointment. However, for the sake of the family’s reputation, he could never bring himself to send me away to a special education school. Then came the day someone from a prominent hedge fund company arrived to acquire our family company, Sterling Group. He was so arrogant that he chewed out everyone in the boardroom until all of them hung their heads low. The room full of corporate executives fell silent, too terrified to speak. Meanwhile, I stood there in the corner, listening to the whole thing until I felt sleepy and fed up. Taking a step forward, I spoke the very first words of my life.

I host a late-night campus radio show and have been on the air for three years. I take calls about cheating, scandals, and even people threatening to end their lives. The final night to submit college choices is also my last night on the air before graduation. At 11:30 pm, an anonymous call comes through. It's a guy. "Host, I changed my sister's college choices for my mom tonight," he says. "I have two sisters. Ever since we were kids, the older one has been better at everything than the younger one. "She gets better grades, she's prettier, and even strangers praise her. "This year, my younger sister is just 20 points short of the cutoff, while my older sister is certain to get into a top university. "So I changed all my older sister's college choices to schools she can't get into. That way, she has to wait a year and apply again. "She's smart anyway. If she takes the exam again and reapplies, she can get into an even better school. It all works out in the end." He pauses. "We just want my little sister to win for once. That's not too much to ask for, is it?" I grip the microphone but say nothing. Suddenly, another guy's voice comes through the line. "Host, I'm the older sister's boyfriend. We've been together for three years. Honestly, I do feel bad about this. "Could you play her a song? She listens to your show every night. If she hears it and comes to see me tomorrow, we can still talk about which schools she should apply to. "If she doesn't hear it, then I guess it doesn't matter." I take a deep breath and reach out to end the call. Suddenly, the producer cuts to a piano piece. I freeze, my blood running cold. It's the song I taught my childhood best friend to play, note by note, back when I was 16 years old. Only the two of us know this song.

The night before the college application deadline, my parents said they wanted to throw me a celebration dinner. I had a pretty good score on my SAT. However, the moment I reached the restaurant entrance, a few lines of text suddenly floated in front of my eyes. [Don't go in.] [Tonight at dinner, your parents and your guidance counselor are going to get your account verification code out of you.] [They're going to swap your application to a top out-of-state university for the local teachers' college, the one that locks you into teaching here after you graduate.] [Your counselor will log in from the school's computer lab and make it look like you confirmed it yourself.] [Once the admission results come out, your dad will tear up your ID and lock you in the house until you accept your fate.] [From then on, your paychecks will go toward your brother's downpayment first.] [You'll be stuck in this town forever.] I stood outside the building, chilled to the bone. A second later, my phone rang. It was Mom. "Callie, why aren't you up here yet? Mr. Ormsby said the application portal tends to lag tonight, so it's better to confirm early and be done with it."

When I returned from a mission, I found my Alpha mate, Wyatt, had tattooed his Beta's sigil next to our sacred mating mark. I cut my mission short, stormed back to the pack, and publicly declared my intent to Reject him. The mating mark is sacred, a symbol of two souls eternally bound. Desecrating it is the gravest insult to the Moon Goddess. Wyatt tore the rejection papers to shreds, casting them to the ground. Fury blazed in his wolfish eyes. "Over a sigil? You're tearing us apart over a meaningless symbol. Are you insane?" "Do I look like I'm kidding?" I sneered. "Fine. Let the Moon Goddess be your judge." The color drained from his face. "Faye, if you dare go through with this, I'll strip Rory of his birthright. He'll never be Alpha." "How could I be cursed with a mother like you? You're ruining my future as Alpha! I hate you!"My son, Rory, snarled from the side, his eyes burning with hatred. I looked at this father and son, who was now both strangers to me, and my heart turned to ash. My fingers tightened on my herb pouch. "The moment your father desecrated our mark," I said, my voice eerily calm, "I was already done with you."

The year I turned fourteen, Grandma and I were crammed into a beat-up trailer on the edge of a desert town. She couldn't afford paint, so she mixed colors from the cheapest red clay pigment at the general store. When a frame broke, she hammered it back together herself. When canvas tore, she patched the back with old cloth and sealed it with a paste she boiled from leftover church wax and cheap resin. Grandma never went to school. She painted out of pure love, and she kept at it for thirty years. Then one summer, a gallery owner named Evelyn Hart crawled into Grandma's leaky shed and examined every painting, flipping each one over to study both sides. The next day, every last painting was gone. Finished oils, sketches, pigment records, old photographs, frames. Everything cleared out overnight. Three months later, Grandma walked into Evelyn's gallery and saw her own painting, Madonna of the Red Rock, hanging in the brightest spot. But the brass nameplate beside it bore Evelyn's name. She lunged for the painting. The security guards pried her fingers loose and dragged her out the door. That night, a blizzard sealed off the roads. She pounded on the glass, but no one came. The next morning, when I found her outside the gallery, her body was already frozen solid. After the funeral, I went to clean out what was left of the burned shed. Inside the lining of an old brush pouch, I found a small scrap of painted canvas. It was a piece Grandma had trimmed off while repairing Madonna of the Red Rock. The thief had missed it. I tucked it away and kept it. For twenty years. Twenty years later, I was the compliance director at an international art marketplace. A young woman submitted an auction application for a series of paintings. The Desert Madonna Series was about to be sold to collectors and private museums around the world. The collection was valued at more than $150 million. I opened the file. In the artist field, I stared at the name for a long time. "Application denied."

The four of us were planning a graduation trip, and my adopted sister, Lily Howard, suggested a trip out to sea. My brother, Ethan Howard, backed her right away. My fiancé, Julian Walker, went a step further and planned the whole trip for her. Nobody bothered to ask what I wanted. Julian had even forgotten that he'd promised to take me to Switzerland to see the snow after graduation. For years, my family had forced me to give Lily whatever she wanted. Julian was the only one who had ever promised to stand up for me, comforting me in private. "Once you get an offer from a top firm in London, you'll never have to tiptoe around anyone again." Then, last night, Julian went behind my back and rejected my job offer, hoping to get Lily hired instead. "You're going to marry me and stay in New York anyway. Can't you let your sister have the job?" If they think Lily deserves everything, she can have it all—my lying fiancé and my rotten family.

On New Year's Eve, my little brother begs me to play hide-and-seek with him. The moment I cover my eyes and count to 30, the "eraser" in my mind starts moving again. I stand frozen for a few seconds, then turn around, go back inside, and start watching TV. An hour later, Mom crouches down in front of me. "Sweetheart, where's your little brother?" Little brother? I blink, confused. "I don't have a little brother…" Her expression drops instantly. Leaving the New Year's Eve dinner untouched, everyone surges out into the heavy snow. But no matter how hard we search, we can't find my brother. Mom raises her hand and slaps me hard across the face. Her eyes bloodshot. "Didn't I tell you to keep your brother company? Didn't I tell you not to let him out of your sight?" she screams. "Where is he now? Which way did he go? Answer me!" I'm shoved to the ground, tumbling into the snow and ice. "Why couldn't it have been you who got lost, you idiot? It's not like you can remember a single thing anyway! "You forgot your brother this time. What's next? Are you going to forget your father and me, too?" Mom lunges forward, wanting to strike me again, but Dad grabs her and holds her back. They won't stop crying, and my heart aches alongside them. She's right. Why couldn't it have been me, the idiot, who got lost instead?

As the only expert in the world capable of rescue dives below 3,000 feet, I received a once-in-a-lifetime salvage contract worth tens of millions of dollars. I had dived in those same waters over a decade ago. My son's research submersible had been damaged on the ocean floor. After his oxygen ran out, he suffocated in the dark. The grief nearly destroyed me. My husband, Griffin Lattimer, held me through it, staying by my side through countless miserable nights. I found out later that he had personally redirected the only rescue vessel capable of reaching the depths our son was at to save his childhood friend's daughter. That girl had merely choked on a mouthful of water in the shallows. I divorced Griffin and threw myself into deep-sea salvage like a woman possessed, diving over and over until I knew the undercurrents of those waters better than I knew my own home. I never wanted another child to die the way mine did. Today brought the same stretch of ocean, the same crushed hull, the same depleted oxygen, and the same impossible odds. When I opened the client's file, I went completely still. I recognized the name and face inside instantly. I would never forget either of them for as long as I lived. I smiled and slid the folder back across the table to my partner. "I can't take this one."

After my husband, Don of the Rizzo family, died in a shootout, I took over the family and wiped out the one that killed him. To groom my daughter into the next heir, I handpicked four adopted sons to protect her. Ten years. I poured everything into them—my name, my money, my time. And every last one of them turned out exceptional and self-reliant. Over the years, with them at her side, my daughter moved forward steadily. Until the month before my daughter was about to take over my position, I got a desperate call from her. "Mom, help me... someone's got me trapped in the banquet hall. They're trying to rip my clothes off..." By the time I got there, my daughter was curled up in a corner, half her gown torn apart. And the four adopted sons I'd raised with my own hands? Standing outside the door with some girl, watching the show. All of this—because my daughter had gotten into an argument with her. When they saw me, there wasn't a shred of guilt on their faces. Just impatience. The eldest stepped in front of the girl. "Mom, she's the one who mouthed off first and pissed Isabella off. Since she never learned to respect people, I figured I'd teach her some manners for you." The third one's eyes flickered with disrespect. "Handling our little sister—that's not something you need to worry about." One look at their smug faces and I was done. Clearly, they'd forgotten who the real head of this family is.

On the day the SAT results were published, my mother sat together with me as I checked my scores, equally excited. But when she saw that I scored 1,580, her face fell. She dragged me out. "You're not my daughter! Get out!" I was stunned. "I scored 1,580, Mom! You always wanted me to do good!" She ignored me and quickly made an appointment to disown me. My father quickly stepped in as the mediator. "What are you doing? She's finally done with her SATs…" When my mother showed him my result, he flew into a rage. "You bitch! I can't believe you!" They shoved me out of the house. I banged on the door, asking them why they were doing this. They gave me icy stares and cursed me even more. In a daze, I missed a step and rolled down the stairs, falling to my death. When I opened my eyes again, I was back to the moment I checked my results.

After I found out my Alpha mate, Bruce, couldn't let go of his ex-mate, Fiona, and her pup, I started teaching our son to call him "Alpha Bruce." When our son had a fever, Fiona called my mate away in the middle of the night. I touched my son’s burning forehead and had him say, "Goodbye, Alpha." When he bailed on the birthday party he’d promised our son because Fiona called, crying that her own son didn't have a father, I didn't even look up. I just had our son explain to the guests, "The Alpha has something important to do." Our son always hesitated for a long time. Until Bruce finally realized how much he’d failed us. He suggested we take a family portrait. But at the studio, Fiona called again, sobbing. “Bruce, can you please come and pretend to be Tony’s dad? The kids at daycare are making fun of him for not having one…” A flicker of guilt crossed Bruce’s face. He was about to kneel and explain it to our son. But this time, our son didn't need my cue. He just waved. “It’s okay, Alpha Bruce. Go be with your other pup. Mom and I are enough for the family photo.”

On the day my adoptive father, Claude Bolton, is buried, my biological parents, along with the fake heiress, Gwen Walton, force their way into the funeral hall to pressure me into signing a statement of forgiveness. They say Gwen is about to be recommended for graduate school, so she can't afford to have a disciplinary record for driving a mechanic to his death. My biological mother, Lorna Pollard, holds my hand and cries. "Claude is already dead. Don't ruin Gwen too." My biological father, Joseph Walton, presses the pen into my palm. "The dead shouldn't stand in the way of the living." Gwen kneels in front of the casket, crying pitifully. "Ada, I'm sorry. I didn't know Mr. Bolton would really jump off the building." Just as I am about to sign, the funeral home calls. They say a pearl button fell out of Dad's hand before cremation. Meanwhile, Lorna's cuff is missing a button today.

I came across a cage-fight livestream on the dark web. A girl was being forced to fight a vicious dog. Her clothes were torn, and her arms and legs were covered in blood. I couldn't bear to watch. I ordered the stream shut down. She looked about my daughter's age. Ten years earlier, when my daughter was born, I'd stepped back from everything to raise her. I handed the Lorenzi family's four most important operations to my four adopted sons. I'd raised every one of them myself. They were ruthless, capable, and each could hold his own. But with my daughter, all that toughness disappeared. If she so much as frowned, they'd spend ages coaxing a smile out of her. A second before the stream cut out, the girl suddenly looked up. The moment I saw her face, rage flooded through me. That blood-smeared face belonged to my daughter! Marco DeLuca, my second-in-command, came in with a report, his head bowed. "Boss, we traced the source of the stream. Your daughter clashed with a girl your adopted sons brought around. They said they'll let her out when she admits she was wrong." That dog cage was what we used to punish traitors. And my adopted sons had locked my own daughter inside it. They'd forgotten the promises they made back then and what it was like to fight beggars for scraps. I would make them remember.

As an exploration geologist, I'm caught in a landslide during a mission, and one of my arms is crushed. Before we set out, our exploration team has accurately predicted the weather. There's no chance of heavy rain that day. It isn't until I overhear my wife, Diana Nelson, talking to a doctor friend that I learn the truth. "Diana, you knew Adam was going out on a mission that day, yet you spent a fortune on creating cloud seeding just to get him injured and eventually cost him an arm. You really went too far for Flynn." Diana frowns. "Who told him to care so much about that exploration project? The only way the project can go to Flynn is if Adam gets disabled. "Otherwise, Flynn will be sent to Nambara. You think I can bear to let him suffer in a place like that?" What she doesn't know is that the Nambaran assignment will go to either Flynn Cooper or me. Before leaving, I put my medical report, which states that I've lost my reproductive ability, into a box. The day Flynn makes a name for himself, the box will be delivered to Diana as a gift.

The first thing my brother did after returning from his studies in Europe was drag me before the family council. I ran the rundown bar our Capo father left me, stocking shelves at dawn and scrubbing counters past midnight. I even took on debt from loan sharks to keep him afloat. "Just one last time," he always promised over the phone. "I'll pay you back once I marry rich." But today, a summons from the family arrived at his request. It demanded I be stripped of my birthright and forced to hand over the bar and our territory. My phone pinged. A photo flashed on the screen: my brother in a silk shirt, sitting close to a woman, her hand digging into his thigh. The message followed: Meet my fiancée, the daughter of the Valenti family boss and their Chief Legal Counsel. She says you don't stand a chance. I stared at that hand for a long, long time. Then I crouched down and pried open the hidden compartment beneath the bar.

My house suddenly catches fire. The nanny is burned across nearly 80% of her body while saving my son, and the doctors spend three days fighting to keep her alive. But I fire her because of a single glass of water she gives him. Then I hire a lawyer and demand that she pay me back for every expensive supplement she took while working for us. My son looks at me as if he can't believe what I've become. "Mom, when did you become so heartless? Amy almost died saving me, and you won't even cover her medical bills. Now you're firing her too? "You're the one who taught me never to forget what someone has done for me. If you won't help her, I will!" I hold his gaze without flinching. "Then go ahead! Samuel, I've frozen all your cards, so you won't be using a cent of my money. If you want to help Amy, you'll have to find a way to pay her bills yourself." Because of what I've done, everyone in my family thinks the worst of me. But I don't explain myself to any of them. After all, I've already died once. In this second life, I'll do whatever it takes to protect my family, even if it means being misunderstood by everyone.

The day after my parents finally find me and bring me home—18 years after my abduction—they announce their bankruptcy and plunge into massive debt. Over the next two years, I'm forced to drop out of school and work three jobs a day to pay off the family debts. I even lose hearing in one ear after a brutal beating from a debt collector. Through it all, Mom and Dad hold me close in the middle of the night, weeping and apologizing for failing me. Foolishly, I believe them. I tell myself that as long as our family is together, I can endure anything. Desperate to hear again, I buy a used hearing aid on a secondhand goods platform for 9.90 dollars. The comments section congratulates me on snagging a rare steal. But the seller replies indifferently, "This is something my housekeeper doesn't want anymore. I'm just giving it away as charity." Swallowing my pride, I travel to a massive luxury villa to pick it up. After taking the hearing aid from the young woman, I bow my head in deep gratitude. But as I look up, my gaze catches Mom and Dad in the garden behind her. They were calling out to her, saying, "Stephy, hurry back after meeting with that peasant. And be careful not to get your hands filthy."

My little sister was murdered by her kidnappers. I watched it all happen and never said a word about who did it. My mother got on her knees and begged me. I didn't flinch. When my father threatened me with his authority as the Don, I walked away from my place as the Family heir. I moved to a small town down south. Eight years later, I was dying of a terminal illness, and my older sister, Beth Turner, had taken over the Family. Under her, the Turners had become the most powerful mafia family on the East Coast. The first thing she did when she found me was have me dragged back to the Family's tribunal. "Selena Turner, you ungrateful snake. Mia called you her sister for all those years, and you still won't name the kidnapper. "Mia's been dead for years. Don't you feel any guilt at all?!" I was on my knees in the great hall. I couldn't speak. "After all these years, I can finally extract your memories. Today, I'm going to see exactly who you've been protecting. I will avenge Mia." She ordered her men to restrain me and hook up the extractor. On the screen above the banquet hall, a face suddenly appeared. The room erupted into chaos, and Beth's face went deathly pale.

My best friend, Eleanor Fitzroy, and I both transmigrated into an era of turmoil, where we happen to become students of a legendary seer. I am born with an uncanny gift for divination. With nothing more than three coins, I can read the signs of fate and predict what is yet to come. Eleanor, meanwhile, possesses an extraordinary mind for strategy. She can decipher the most complex military tactics and, with a single formation of her own design, turn the tide against thousands of soldiers. After leaving Ravenvale, our mentor's secluded valley, we join forces to support the disgraced Seventh Prince, Alexander Wyndham, and help him rise to the throne. Alexander soon falls deeply in love with Eleanor. He marries her in a lavish royal wedding, making her the queen of the realm. 15 years into their marriage, they are still as devoted to each other as ever. They have eight sons together. Then, last night, the palace receives joyous news—the empire of Arden has welcomed its first princess since its founding. Overjoyed, Alexander rides through the night with his eight sons and arrives at the gates of Ravenvale, begging me to come out of seclusion and divine Matilda Wyndham's fate. Of course, I agree. I hurry to the royal palace that very night. I place a dab of vermilion on Matilda's forehead and bestow a blessing of peace and safety upon her. With my task complete, I prepare to leave. But on a whim, I toss my coins one more time, intending to divine Eleanor's fate and see what the rest of her life holds in store. The moment the coins hit the ground, however, the signs turn ominous. The reading reveals chaos, death, and a fate that has been sealed long ago. My blood runs cold. If Eleanor has already been dead for some time, then who is the woman lying on the queen's bed, smiling at me so warmly?