Independence Familial Bond Short Stories & Novels

My mom, Olivia Taylor, is a selfless and devoted teacher who is admired by everyone at school. But I know better. When I apply for financial aid, she tells me that other students need the money more than I do and says I should learn to care for my classmates. When I win a writing competition, she awards the prize money to Myra Davis, the girl who has made my life a misery, and tells me not to get too full of myself. When I submit my college applications, she secretly rewrites them and offers the spot to the same girl. In the end, Myra pushes me from a rooftop. Mom says I am rotten to the core and deserve to be taught a lesson. Then she marries into Myra's family and becomes her stepmother. When I open my eyes again, I find myself reborn on the very day I apply for financial aid.

Adrian Vance and I had been secretly married for ten years, and I had always been his perfect wife. He was the president of a hospital. But lately he'd fallen in love with playing broke. I asked him to pick up blackberries; he came home with bananas and a sad little story about money. I needed a ride to my own surgery; he drove me there rattling along in a beat-up van, because the van fit the part. And when our daughter was dying and the one person who could save her was him, he looked a stranger in the eye and swore he was nobody, just an assistant, certainly not the hospital's president. That was the moment it finally landed. He hadn't drifted into an affair on a whim. He had chosen, with his whole heart, to walk away from his wife and his child. Fine. I'd take our daughter and clear the way for his great love.

After my family and I are dragged into a roguelike horror simulation, they favor my cousin, Julian Clark, over me. In a lobby of blood-soaked players, he always manages to stay spotless, earning their praise as someone who has "kept his humanity". He's unlike me, the brute who willingly throws himself into melee combat and hacks down monsters just to keep everyone else alive. During one dungeon run, a terrifying entity targets my younger sister, Millie Larsson. I draw my blade and move in for the kill, but Julian stops me with a sorrowful smile. "Every creature has a soul. Gabriel, if you kill it, you'll only enrage it and burden Millie with the sin of bloodshed." Millie believes all the nonsense he says and begins resenting me for interfering. Later, when a veteran player steals Julian's life-saving loot drop, I nearly die reclaiming it for him. Instead of thanking me, he takes pity on the woman robbing him and hands the item back to her. He condemns me for being too ruthless, claiming I know nothing about showing mercy to women. Then comes the advanced raid. Cornered by the final boss, I beg Julian to activate the high-tier talisman I've given him, buying me just one second to escape. He recoils from my bloodstained hand in disgust and turns to my parents instead. "Gabriel provoked the boss himself. He's too violent. I can't risk wiping the whole party just to save him." In the end, I die in the boss' jaws. Julian steps over my shattered bones and blood to clear the raid, eventually becoming the server's most celebrated player for being the Untainted Saint. But fate grants me a second chance. I awaken once more in the game's central lobby, right before everything begins. This time, I want to see how long their precious humanity lasts in a world overrun by horrors when the blood-soaked blade that always carries their party is no longer there to protect them.

After the SAT, my daughter turned into something I didn't recognize. She repeatedly stabbed her grandmother, who had raised her, until the old woman bled to death. She pushed her little brother from the tenth floor and killed him on the spot. My wife and I tried to talk her down, our voices shaking, but she only laughed. "Grandma and Caleb were too good to me. That's why they had to die! And you two worked so hard to raise me. You paid for my education and gave me everything. You were too good to me, so you have to die!" Then she set us on fire. I closed my eyes in despair. When I opened them again, I was back one week before my daughter's SAT. This time, I installed a hidden camera in her bedroom. I didn't care what it took. I was going to find out why she killed us. When my wife and I watched the footage later, neither of us could say a word.

My adoptive brother, Ryan Wellington, saved me from a car accident. When he woke up, he lost the memory of my parents ever finding me, their true biological son, or of anything that had happened since. He still believed he was their only son. He pointed at me and asked, "Who is he?" My mom, Tina Wellington, was originally holding my hand. When she saw how anxious he looked, she slowly let go. She said, "His name is Leon. He's just a distant relative who's staying with us." My dad, Joseph Wellington, and my older sister, Claire Wellington, went along with it. My fiancee, Natalie Evans, stood nearby and never mentioned our engagement as well. The doctor said he couldn't handle too much stress, so everyone asked me to play along. In the first week, he moved into my room and took the watch Grandpa had left me. During the first month, my parents turned my birthday party into a recovery celebration and introduced to everyone that I was an orphan the family was supporting. By the third month, Claire had cropped me out of our family portrait, and my fiancee had put my engagement ring on Ryan's finger. Whenever I protested, they reminded me, "If Ryan hadn't saved you, you'd be the one lying in a hospital bed." On the day of my engagement party, he wore my suit and accepted everyone's congratulations with my fiancee on his arm. After the party, when no one was around, he leaned close to me and said, chuckling, "This suit was made for you, but it really does fit me better." I had barely asked if he had ever gotten his memory back a long time ago when Claire cut me off coldly. "Enough! Natalie already said she'll have another ceremony with you once Ryan gets better. Do you have to make a scene today?" My parents accused me of being so jealous that I would slander the man who had saved my life. That was when I finally gave up on them. If this family only had room for one son, I was done fighting for a place.

In the Moonstone Pack, every daughter received two moonstones after her first shift. When she found her mate, they were set into matching bonding bracelets. Two weeks before my twin sister Selena and I were supposed to hold our mate ceremonies, my brother came home carrying one black velvet box. Inside lay a pair of platinum bracelets set with four moonstones. All four belonged to Selena now. She burst into tears. Mom pulled her into a hug, while Dad warned Tyler that the entire Grey family would come for him if he ever hurt their precious girl. No one saw a problem. I looked at my brother’s empty hand. “Where are mine?” Noah blinked. “Selena’s design needed four stones, so I used yours. You don’t care about traditions anyway.” Mom cut me off before I could answer. “They’re only bracelets. You make good money, so buy another pair. Don’t ruin your sister’s moment.” As they closed around Selena, I finally understood. Whenever they said their daughter, they had never meant me. Fine. They could keep the family they had chosen. I was done begging to belong to it.

My adopted sister, Bianca, screwed up. Big time. It was at a charity dinner. Hosted by the Vitiellos. The most powerful Mafia Family on the East Coast. She spilled hot coffee on the Vitiello boss's sister. Right into her eyes. Almost blinded her. Massimo went ballistic. He’s the cold-blooded Don who runs the whole damn coast. He wanted a hostage from our family, the Costas. Within five days. Or it was war. My mother grabbed my hands. Her eyes were red and filled with pain. “Bianca didn’t mean it. She’s terrified. She’s hiding in her room, shaking so hard she can’t breathe. Valeria, you're tough. You can survive this. Just go to Massimo for a few days. I swear I'll get you back.” My twin brother sighed. “That Don is a psycho. Bianca is too delicate. She wouldn’t last a day. You’ve always been the strong one. Just… do this for her.” Even my fiancé, the man I’ve been engaged to for years, held me. He whispered, “Baby, just take the heat for her. Once this all blows over, I’ll give you the biggest wedding you’ve ever dreamed of.” What a joke. I wasn’t even at the party. But I was the one paying the price. So I gave them what they wanted. I walked right into the Vitiello estate. And then they regretted it. They cried, and begged me to come back.

Thor and I grew up together—we were the definition of childhood sweethearts. We'd promised to attend the same university, graduate, and marry right after senior year. Everyone envied us. They said we were a perfect match, destined for a lifetime together. And I believed that too. I truly thought I'd spend the rest of my life with him. Until the final semester of our senior year in high school, when a new transfer student named Lina joined our class. At first, the two barely spoke. But as they grew familiar, their bond deepened in ways I could no longer ignore. He started staying after school to tutor her, bringing her breakfast every morning. When she was upset, he'd take her for a drive along the coast. If she craved Italian steak, he'd have fresh cuts flown in. Even during her period, he'd quietly prepare everything she needed. I was furious. I confronted him, argued with him, and even threatened to break up. The first time I said it, he thought I was joking and coaxed me out of my anger. The second time, he dismissed it as another tantrum and tried different ways to please me. The third time, he broke down—standing outside my house in the pouring rain all night, half kneeling before me, begging for forgiveness. Again and again, I tried to leave, and every time, he refused to let me go. Yet with each reconciliation, something in him shifted. He started taking me for granted, assuming I would always come back. His patience wore thin. His apologies turned perfunctory. Even when he came to make peace, there was no sincerity left in his voice. So I said it for the hundredth time, and that was the last. That was the moment I finally gave up on him.

I come home for the holidays to find four pairs of slippers beside the shoe cabinet. There's a pair for my dad, Dean Pratt, a pair for my mom, Nancy Kerr, and two pairs for my sister, Luna Pratt, including a spare. Mine isn't there. Although my sister attended school in another state, kept her room exactly as it was. Even her slippers sit by her bedside, waiting for her return. I had been away from home for three years. When I returned, I discovered that my belongings had disappeared one by one. And now, they hadn’t even kept a pair of slippers for me. I stand in the entryway, my feet bare. "Where’s my pair?" Mom pokes her head out. "You hardly ever come back, so I threw them away. They were taking up space." But the soles of my sister’s spare pair had already been worn smooth, and they were still neatly sitting in their original place. The next day, I buy a new pair for myself at the supermarket and put them beside the shoe cabinet. That night, I check the shoe cabinet and find them gone. Dad is watching TV on the couch. "Luna's classmate came over, so I gave them to her." "I just bought them." Dad doesn't even turn around. "It's just a pair of slippers. Get another one." Luna pauses. "Huh? I thought Mom had bought them for guests." It makes sense. Guest slippers were supposed to be thrown away once the guest had left.

My twin sister, Bianca, tried to kill herself because I was better than her at school. Apparently, my success triggered her. So my parents sent me away from the Bellini estate. “Only until the college decisions come out,” Mother promised. “Then you can come home.” Behind her, my brother, Dante, helped Bianca choose her new armored Bentley. My boyfriend, Luca, stood beside them, holding Bianca’s favorite white roses. “If anything happens, call us, Valentina.” I did. A month later, a drunk man showed up at my door and wouldn't stop pounding. I locked myself in the bathroom and called my family again and again. Every call was declined. Near dawn, Mother finally texted. Sorry, sweetheart. We were celebrating Bianca’s birthday. Seeing your name might have upset her. After that, I stopped asking for help. The last college decision arrived, but they still wouldn’t let me return. Then, at our eighteenth-birthday gala, the Bellinis presented Bianca to New York as their beloved and only principessa. Mother sent me another message. Your sister still needs time. Please wait. This time, I was done waiting. They didn’t know I had already accepted my offer from MIT. I was leaving the Bellini family behind.

On my very first day studying abroad, my mom brought her real son back home. Within two years, he had won over every single person in the family. By the time I came back, she tossed a signed disownment agreement in my face. "To be honest, I've always thought you were pretty selfish. All you care about is money. You refuse to hand over control of the company, and you never show any real concern for us as parents. Thank God my real son isn't that cold-blooded. So do the right thing—hand over your shares and walk away from this family on your own." She stood there waiting for me to break down, to beg her to let me stay. But I just let out a quiet sigh and pulled out a DNA test linking me to my grandfather—her father. "Mom, I'm not your biological son—that much is true. But I am the biological grandson of the man who actually runs the Harrison family. The one who should be leaving the Harrison family isn't me—it's you."

On the first day I returned to the Schmidt family, my parents told me, "Christina, you may be our biological daughter, but Jenny has been part of this family for fifteen years. She's a daughter of the Schmidt family too. "A biological daughter and an adopted daughter are both our daughters. We love you both equally." To make sure no one could accuse them of favoring either of us, they said every important decision from then on would be made by drawing lots. A red stick meant the better outcome, and a white stick meant the worse one. It was fair and impartial. Over the past three years, we drew lots 47 times for matters big and small, but not once did I draw a red stick. I truly believed I was just unlucky. It wasn't until the 48th drawing. This time, the Schmidt family had to send one person to the countryside. Whoever drew the white stick would be sent to the countryside, and whoever drew the red stick would stay in the city and start working there. As I passed the study, I overheard Mom speaking to Dad. "Don't forget to replace tomorrow's sticks with two white ones. Jenny's body is too weak. She can't endure the hardship of being sent to the countryside. "Christina spent fifteen years in the countryside. She's used to it." I stood outside the door while still holding the glass of warm milk I had just prepared for myself. The glass felt hot in my palm, yet no warmth could reach the chill that had settled deep inside my heart. It turned out nothing had been fair over the last three years.

My older sister Jenny and I both gained weight easily, so our mother made the decision that we could eat nothing but the diet meals she made. I followed her rules as best I could. I did not even dare drink an extra drop of water. But when I stepped on the scale a month later, I weighed three hundred pounds. I rushed into Jenny's room and found her in a tight dress posing in front of the mirror. She smiled at me. "Shannon, does this dress look good on me?" Then, I saw the number on her scale. I could hardly believe it. She was down to ninety pounds. I suspected something was wrong with Mom's diet meals, so I watched everything she did, from buying groceries to cooking. As soon as my meal was ready, I carried it straight to my room so that no one could do anything with it. Another month passed, and my weight climbed to five hundred pounds. Stretch marks covered my body, and my blood pressure reached two hundred. I lost my job because of my weight, my boyfriend dumped me without warning, and my health problems tortured me. I fell into deep despair. I refused to eat Mom's meals anymore and demanded that they take me to the hospital for gastric sleeve surgery. By then, I weighed eight hundred pounds. I had severe hypertension, high blood sugar, high cholesterol, and advanced heart failure. On the second day after the surgery, I died at home from a severe infection. When I opened my eyes again, I had regressed to the day Mom first started making our meals…

According to the Moretti family's rules, my twin sister Chloe and I were supposed to inherit our grandmother's trust when we turned eighteen. But the night before the trust was unlocked, my mother came to us with red-rimmed eyes and told us the family was three million dollars in debt. We needed to pay it off immediately. My fiancé Damian held my hand and moved our wedding date up to the end of the year. He promised we'd face it together. That night, Chloe and I both signed the waiver. Three days later, I got my Harvard acceptance letter with a full scholarship. I rushed home early to share the news—and walked straight into the living room projector still running. On the screen was a group chat I'd never seen before. It was called "Protect Chloe." [Did she sign?] [She signed. She voluntarily gave up her inheritance. Everything belongs to Chloe now.] [That's what Chloe deserves. Vivian's the older sister. She should be the one to give in.] [She doesn't need that much money anyway. She'll have the Salvatorre Donna title soon enough.] Because I was born ten minutes before Chloe, my parents had always favored her. And now, even my fiancé had chosen her side. I didn't say a word. I confirmed my Harvard enrollment and booked a flight to Boston. They thought I'd do what I always did—get angry, cry, then come crawling back. But this time, I was really done with them.

My mother dragged me out of my biological father's brutality, and I thought we had finally escaped. Then she married the Don of the Falcone family. The woman who once fought to protect me completely changed. To secure my stepfather's approval and coddle his beloved Sofia, she stood by and let them turn me into a servant in the house I was supposed to call home. Every time I pushed back, they pushed harder. Every time I begged to be seen, I was met with contempt. My biological father's fists left scars on my body. This family's marks went deeper—into my bones. So I stopped. If they never wanted me there, I would stop breaking myself for their hollow approval. I would take my own life back. In seven days, I would leave. Harvard acceptance in hand—Boston waiting.

The day my parents divorced, I turned my back on the mother who loved me and clung desperately to my cheating father. In my previous life, I chose my mother without hesitation. Because the family never accepted me, she spent the rest of her life suffering for my sake, enduring endless scorn and hardship. This time, as I looked into her heartbroken eyes, I walked away without a backward glance. Five years later, I was scraping by at a seafood market, spending my days gutting fish amid the stench of saltwater and blood. Just as I expertly sliced open a fish's belly, my mother appeared. Her heels clicked across the damp floor as she navigated around puddles left by melting ice and approached me. She covered her nose in disgust, looked me up and down in my stained, shabby clothes, and let out a cold laugh. "No matter how hard you wash, you still reek of fish. This is the life you chose when you picked him over me. “The Cooper family's notorious young heir is about to form an alliance with our family through marriage. “As long as you kneel and beg me, I'll give you a chance to live a better life. What do you think? “You know I always mean what I say.” The contempt in her voice was unmistakable. I swallowed the metallic taste rising in my throat, flashed a carefree grin, and stepped closer. “Not only am I not kneeling, but you’ll have to kiss me first if you want me to go.” Just one kiss would be enough to get me through the last month of my life.

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.

The year I turned twelve, I was learning to swim when the lifebuoy was snatched from me by my little sister Mia Lawrence. By the time they pulled me out, the oxygen deprivation had taken my hearing for good. The incident made me the new family’s darling, in Mia’s place. My big brother Josh Lawrence kept the shotgun seat of his car off-limits to all but me. My second brother, Ethan Lawrence, reserved a front-row seat in my name at every single one of his concert. And Samuel Lawrence, the youngest of my brothers, would accept Mia’s gifts only to toss them in the bin the moment she turned her back. Even Brian Ferguson, betrothed to her since childhood, spent three painstaking years learning sign language so he could communicate with me. For a decade, I was convinced I was the apple of everyone’s eye. How foolish of me, as I learned the fateful day the Fergusons came to discuss the pending union. Mia’s eyes were rimmed red. “I’ve given up all that’s mine for ten years,” she said. “Not this time, not Brian. I can’t give him up too.” Mom reached for her hand at once, choking back tears as she turned to me. “Elaine, please. Let this one go. Whatever Mia owed you, it’s been more than made up for." Dad’s voice was low, final. “This union has always been meant for Mia, not you.” Josh’s jaw tightened. “You’ve taken over a decade of her life. Isn’t that enough?” Ethan quietly agreed, “She’s been left out in the cold all these years.” Samuel lifted the ring from where it sat before me and set it down in front of Mia. “Time to put things back in their places.” And last of all, Brian, who would not meet my eyes, signed the verdict. “I only stayed close to you to make it up on Mia’s behalf. It was always her I wanted as my wife.” The truth hit me then. Ten years of being adored, of being first, none of that had been love. All had been but a grand performance, a debt dressed up as devotion. I shredded the marriage agreement that night. By morning, I’d signed away my old life for a teaching position in a far-flung village. With me out of the picture, now everyone could shower love over Mia, guilt-free at last.

As Christmas drew near, my little sister claimed she’d seen Santa Claus in the house. “He had four legs, real long, like dead branches. He crawled on the floor like a dog. His mouth was full of teeth, and I saw him with my own eyes, climbing out of the chimney. His bones were making this clicking, clacking sound.” The Santa she described was nothing like the legends. My parents and I thought it was just her imagination. Until I posted about it online. A user named “NocturneNotes” insisted my sister wasn’t lying, and that the thing was dangerous. Panicked, I asked him what we should do. He gave me three rules: “On Christmas Eve, from 11:30 PM to 2:00 AM, the entire family must ‘sleep’ by the Christmas tree.” “You can’t actually fall asleep, or you’ll die in your sleep.” “No matter what you hear or feel, you absolutely cannot open your eyes or stop pretending to be asleep. Once it hits 2:00 AM, it will leave on its own.”

When the email from the company came in, I rushed into the living room, bursting with excitement. "Mom, Dad, Ethan, Tyler, I got the job at MT!" But the living room was eerily silent. Out of habit, I glanced at the couch. Four dolls sat there. One was Dad, one was Mom, one was my brother Ethan, and one was Tyler Brooks, the boy I'd grown up with. The dolls' button eyes stared back at me, their stitched mouths pressed shut. My chest ached, and I had to admit what I'd tried so hard to forget. I'd been kicked out of the house a long time ago. The day we turned 18, my twin sister cried until she fainted. She said I tried so hard at everything that I made her look like a loser. She couldn't take the pressure. So everyone kicked me out and told me never to show my face around my sister again. When I first moved here, some thugs followed me home. Late that night, they pounded on my door. I hid under the table, terrified, and called Mom, Dad, Ethan, and Tyler again and again. They hung up every time. All I got were four identical texts. "Adele, stop calling. If Maria sees, she'll get upset. Once she's feeling more stable, we'll come get you." I clutched a baseball bat as they hammered on the door, too scared to even let out a sob. In the end, the noise woke my landlord, Frank. He chased the thugs off with a gun. After that, I made four dolls that looked just like Mom, Dad, Ethan, and Tyler. The dolls sat with me at meals and slept beside me. I used to hold them and imagine how happy I'd be when my family finally came to take me home. But now, standing in that suffocating silence, I felt utterly exhausted. I finally had to face reality. I stopped hugging the dolls and talking to them. There was no point pretending I was loved. I took out my phone and applied for the company's voluntary transfer to London.