Contos sobre Familial Bond e Romances com Independence e Regret

On Christmas Eve, my mother sent a long gift list to our family group chat. It had everything from sports cars to diamond necklaces. I was full of anticipation, but when the gifts were finally handed out, I realized the sports car was for my brother, Luca. The rest—the diamonds, the Hermès bags—were all for Mia. Mia was our family’s adopted daughter. Her father used to work for my Papa and took a bullet for him. Because of that, the Sterling family had raised Mia as their own flesh and blood for ten years. Not a single gift was for me. When I asked my mother about it, she stated the obvious: "Julian is your fiancé. He’ll have something prepared for you." "Mia is so pitiful for losing her father because of us. We have to give her the most love, right?" I wanted to scream that I needed gifts from my family too, but I kept my mouth shut. I looked over at Julian, only to find he hadn't gotten me anything either. Instead, he was smiling, handing Mia a custom gown he bought for her. Sitting on the sofa at the edge of the grand hall, watching them, it finally hit me: there was no place for me here. Looking down at my phone, I signed an overseas deployment contract with Doctors Without Borders to a field hospital in Colombia. Five years. No returning home. I decided to leave for good, and never come back.

My family is always tricking me into believing there's an emergency over the smallest things. When Dad faked an attack signal, I forfeited a championship final, only to discover he'd simply misplaced his favorite newspaper. The time Grandma claimed her wolf was vanishing, I missed my promotion review, only to find out she just wanted me to clean the lawn. Every single time, I rush to their side in a panic. And all I get is the same perfunctory, casual explanation—"We just wanted you to come home sooner." Eventually, it becomes an unspoken game of testing how quickly I will come running. On the night of the Full Moon Festival, I'm negotiating at the Alliance headquarters when my younger sister, Leah Holmes, suddenly calls. "Erin, Mom's wolf is fading… She keeps calling for you." The next second, my blood bond with Mom suddenly weakens. A sharp pain grips my heart. I can barely manage to excuse myself before bracing against the wall and rushing out of the conference room. But when I arrive home, Mom is on the terrace, carving a roast turkey. Upon seeing me, Leah excitedly waves her phone. "I win! She didn't even grab her coat!" Mom holds up the moonstone used to simulate distress signals and chides her, laughing. "You should tell Erin now. Look how terrified she is." My future mate, Nolan Harding, walks over and holds my cold hands in his. In the past, whenever my blood telepathy acted up, he'd always hold my hands like this and stay with me until the pain in my chest subsided. But this time, he advises me in a lowered voice, "Leah spent all afternoon preparing this. She just wanted everyone to have a happy holiday. Take a moment to calm down before blaming her." Leah bursts out laughing behind him. "Erin, I'm not the only one to blame. Nolan was the one who taught Mom how to use the moonstone." I slowly withdraw my hands. Of course. He knows better than anyone how to make me feel safe, and how to make me afraid. That night, I accept a three-year transfer to the West Coast branch and withdraw my application to form a mate bond.

My parents never let me spend my summer or winter breaks in the city where they worked, even when I offered to go there and look after them. I thought they were just worried about me. Dad said eight people shared a single factory dorm room, and even using the bathroom meant waiting in line. Mom said they worked twelve-hour rotating shifts on the assembly line. Sometimes, she and Dad barely had time to eat. Afraid of being a burden, I eventually stopped asking. The year I finished high school, I used the money I'd been saving for ages to buy a train ticket. I wanted to surprise them. I waited six hours at a diner across from their shop before I finally saw them. They were holding hands with a little boy I'd never seen before. Dad wore a spotless jacket. Mom had her eyebrows perfectly shaped. The little boy was dressed in a private school uniform. He tilted his head up and asked, "Dad, can I turn on the projector and play video games tonight?" Standing across the street, I suddenly felt that there was no point in showing them the screenshot on my phone—the one with my SAT score of 1580.

In the Ferro family, every daughter received a black onyx ring before getting married. The stone was jet-black, with the Ferro family's signature F engraved in the center. My father said it wasn't jewelry. It was a Ferro family vow. As long as you wore it, the whole Ferro family would have your back, wherever marriage took you. My twin sister, Lucia Ferro, and I were getting married on the same day. But in the days leading up to the wedding, my father brought out only one velvet ring box. Lucia held out her hand in delight as our relatives raised their glasses. I stared at my bare ring finger, then turned to my mother. "Where's mine?" My mother, Margaret Ferro, avoided my eyes and pretended to study the oil painting on the wall. My brother, Victor Ferro, kept cutting his steak and didn't even look up. "Lucia's marrying into the Cassano family. She needs to walk in with some real weight behind her. We melted your ring down and added the gold to her band." My father, Robert Ferro, sipped his red wine, his tone perfectly flat. "The Cassano family has strict rules. She needs them to know the Ferro family is behind her all the way. Your fiancé, Aiden Brooks, is just an ordinary doctor who has nothing to do with the family business. You'll never need a ring like that." I stared at the harsh gleam of gold around Lucia's finger. I remembered the year I turned 18, when my father let me touch his ring for the first time. He'd looked at me and sworn that as long as my last name was Ferro, I'd always have someone in my corner. Only now did I understand that he hadn't been lying. I simply wasn't the Ferro he meant to protect.

The night I died, my whole family was busy celebrating my twin sister Elena's eighteenth birthday. Everyone thought Elena was going to die the next day. We're elves. My father worked as a clan guardian, and after Mom gave birth to Elena and me as twins, she stopped working altogether. We should have been a happy family. But from the moment we were born, Elena and I were bound by a witch's curse. Because Elena came into the world one minute before me, she took the full weight of it onto herself. She was never supposed to live past eighteen. From the day we were born, Elena was the family's treasure. Mom and Dad treated me like I owed her something. New toys went to her first. New dresses were always her pick. Every night, Mom would sit in Elena's room for at least an hour before she'd turn off the light. I always fell asleep alone. One night I had a nightmare and ran barefoot to find Mom. She was holding Elena and didn't even look up. "Go back to bed. Stop making a fuss." I kept telling myself: she's dying, of course they're kind to her. But every time I let something go, that splinter in my chest pushed a little deeper. Then the day the curse was supposed to take effect finally came, and naturally, that was the day my stomach cramped so badly I could barely stand. Mom and Dad didn't hesitate. They shoved me into the cellar and locked it from outside. I crouched on the stone floor with the smell of mildew everywhere and knocked on the door over and over. "Mom... Dad... my stomach really hurts, I can't even stand up... let me out, please..." One sentence came back through the door. "Your sister is dying tonight! Can you just give us one day? One day!" "But... Mom... I'm scared..." Nobody answered after that. The cellar went quiet. My eyelids grew heavy. My last thought was: if I were the one dying of a curse, would they come hold me too.

My dad owned a boxing gym. He gave me one rule: If you're right, don't back down. Then I turned eighteen, and my biological parents—Jonah Gautier and Diana Saun—showed up. Apparently, I was the son they'd lost years ago. Dad always taught me to remember what people did for me. They gave me life. That had to count for something. So I grabbed Dad's beat-up canvas duffel and headed to the Gautier estate. Liam, their adopted son, popped up from the couch with a fake-sweet smile. "Troy, rough trip?" I raised the bag. "Nope." Gary, the butler, showed me to my room. An hour later, I came back downstairs. Liam clung to my biological mom, Diana Saun, tears streaming down his face, a handprint bright on his cheek. The second he saw me, he flinched. "Troy, why'd you hit me?" Every head snapped my way. I walked over and lifted my hand. A sharp whoosh cut through the room. Everyone froze. My hand stopped inches from his face. I spread my fingers and held my hand next to the mark on his face. Ten years in the gym had hardened my fists. Thick calluses covered my knuckles, and my hand was way bigger than the handprint on his cheek. "Does my hand look anything like that?" His fingers twitched against his cheek. "Couldn't even bring yourself to hit that hard? Next time, have someone else do it." I dusted off my hands. "When you're done with the performance, let me know dinner's ready."

The day I married Santino Connor, he went from the infamous heir of a mafia fortune to a broke nobody. When he handed me a plastic ring in a shabby basement and asked if I would start from scratch with him, I looked at the man I had loved since I was a girl and nodded without a second thought. "Santino, as long as it was with you, I would do anything." For him, I worked more than ten hours a day until my stomach bled from the stress. Our son, from the moment he could walk, trailed me from one odd job to the next. I thought my love could eventually build us a life in the sun. Until, at a lavish banquet where I was serving the elite, he showered me with cash from his seat at the head of the table. "What's that thing crawling on the floor? It's blocking my view!" "Take the money and get out of my sight!" When I saw the woman by his side, her face an eerie copy of my own, I finally understood. To him, this was just a game, and I was the only one playing for keeps. If he was going to go to such lengths to deceive me, then it was time for his game to end. What he didn't know was that one month later, he would be tearing the world apart to find me.

When my sister, Vesper Rowe, begged us for help, my mate, Alpha Sterling Blackwood, and I traveled for three days and nights to reach the neighboring Cloudwolf Pack. Vesper's in-laws made her life as hard as they could. I out-argued every wolf in the room, and Sterling backed me up with brute strength. Once her mate bond was finally severed, a smile finally appeared on Vesper's haggard face. "Moon Goddess bless you both. Don't ever split up, okay? Otherwise, I won't know whose house to go to anymore." Sterling ruffled her hair, then looked at me with open affection. "Don't worry about us. The Moon Goddess chose Livia and me as the most compatible mates in the entire werewolf world. Everyone else could split up, but we'd still be together. "What matters now is figuring out what kind of life you want for yourself." After we brought Vesper home with us, I took even better care of her than before and made sure she got out and met new people. Whenever Sterling saw me preparing a plate of fruit for Vesper, he'd pull me into his arms, acting jealous. "Livia, your sister is a grown woman. I'm your mate, and I'm the one who needs more of your attention right now." I laughed and popped a slice of apple into his mouth, my heart brimming with happiness. When I returned from a month-long training retreat, they were both there to pick me up. Sterling opened his arms to hug me as usual, but I spotted a lipstick stain on his collar. When I confronted him about it, Sterling, who'd always answered every question I asked, remained silent. My heart sank, and I decided I'd break the bond the very next day. But when I reached for Vesper to take her with me, my hand closed on empty air. She gave me one reluctant look, then turned and walked to Sterling.

The night before I left the Family, the five of us who grew up together played pool. To make sure delicate Chloe won, my own brother purposely blocked my shots. My boyfriend, the heir to the syndicate, willingly gave up his chance to turn the game around, and my childhood friend shoved a thirteenth penalty shot into my hand. "She's great at pool. What's the big deal if she loses a few rounds?" "It's just a game. Don't be such a sore loser." They gave all their attention to Chloe, completely forgetting tonight was supposed to be my farewell party. No one even cared to ask which part of the Family territory I was about to take over. I touched the plane ticket to Sicily inside my suitcase and swallowed everything I wanted to say. If they only cared about letting her win. Then this time, I would just walk away from the table forever.

Seven days before my wedding, my younger sister got dumped. Crying, she smashed my rose bouquet and tore apart my rose-printed wedding invitations, saying that seeing roses made her fall apart. That very night, Mom canceled my wedding. “Your sister can’t handle any more emotional triggers right now. Put the wedding off for a while.” Dad transferred the money I had saved for our honeymoon to my sister and let her go on a trip to relax. My older brother tried to persuade me, too. “You can get married anytime. Your sister can’t be left alone right now.” Ever since we were children, they had always asked me to wait. My eighteenth birthday party was canceled because my sister couldn’t get the gemstone necklace she wanted. The celebration party for my admission to Harvard University was canceled because my sister hadn’t done well on her exams. And now, what they wanted to cancel was my wedding. I looked at the petals scattered all over the floor and suddenly smiled. “Fine. Then cancel it.” My fiancé, Don Edward, sent me a message. “Are you going to wait for them again?” I stared at those words before slowly replying: “No.”

In the sixth year of my relationship with Niklas Berg, he spent three hundred days a year in Inari, in northern Finland, doing fieldwork on Sámi culture and traditional crafts. I stayed behind in London, looking after his mother, Helena Berg, who had been bedridden since her stroke. The day I miscarried from sheer exhaustion, I was shaking all over with pain. I called him. Before I could say a word, he cut me off. "Signal's bad up here. The project's at a critical stage. Stop bothering me with every little thing at home." Then he hung up. I had always believed he was simply too consumed by his research to understand the needs of an ordinary relationship. That belief lasted until late one night, when I came across a promotional video for a Nordic traditional crafts exhibition on social media. In the video, Niklas, always so reserved and composed, was leaning down, fastening an heirloom silver brooch at the collar of a radiant young Sámi woman. The silver caught the light against her red-and-blue shawl, and his hands moved with such solemnity it looked like a ritual only the two of them understood. Someone off-camera teased him, asking if he planned to stay in the north forever. He looked at the girl, his voice low and tender. "Aila says this brooch is only given to the person she wants to share her life with. I'd gladly stay here for her." I closed the video. I didn't cry, and I didn't confront him. I simply signed the Helsinki transfer confirmation I should have signed long ago, then left my flat key and engagement ring behind in our home. His beliefs had never left room for me. So I would go and find a world of my own.

I used to be the beloved little princess of the Colobo family. Then, on my eighteenth birthday, my father brought home Sophia. She was the daughter of the old friend who had once saved his life. Out of guilt, he gave her a place in our home. Then he gave her my place too. My brother began protecting her and hating me. My childhood friend, Luca Rizzo, fell for her and left me behind. Even my father said Sophia deserved the Colobo name more than I did, though I was his biological daughter. On the day I graduated from college, they broke their promise to me for the ninety-ninth time because of her. I finally lost control. “Am I not your own daughter?” My father pulled Sophia behind him as if I were the danger, then slapped me across the face. “You jealous little thing. I should have given everything to her instead.” My brother looked at me like I was something dirty. “You don’t deserve a place in the Colobo family. Get out.” So I left. They thought I was only throwing another tantrum. They took Sophia to Switzerland to see the snow-covered mountains, certain that silence would teach me to behave. They thought I would calm down, come home, and beg for my place again. But this time, I called the research institute in Australia whose offer I had once turned down for them. “I accept,” I said. By the time the Colobo family realized I was truly gone, my phone number no longer existed. And so did Isabella Colobo.

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.

After completing my mission in conquering Audrey Hayes, I choose to stay behind in this other world for her. Before the system checks out, it warns me that I have burned through every single point to keep her alive. If I ever find myself in danger again, I won't have the points to bail me out. I don't care, mostly because Audrey has held my hand and given me her word. "I'm a doctor. No matter what happens to you down the road, I'll be the one to save you." But ten years later, my twin brother and I are caught in a car accident. When Audrey rushes onto the scene, she walks right past me as I lie bleeding out on the pavement, choosing instead to load my brother onto the ambulance for nothing more than a few superficial scrapes. "I know all about those weird abilities of yours!" she snaps. "You aren't going to die, but Owen might." Watching her leave, I close my eyes in absolute despair, only to hear the system's mechanical voice echo in my mind. "Host, your vital signs are dropping rapidly. In light of your exceptional past performance, a new option has been unlocked. If you can collect enough regret from your family, you'll be granted a chance to return to the real world. Do you accept this mission?"

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.

It's my seventh year of being homeless when Mom and I meet again in a five-star restaurant. To celebrate a certain fake heir's birthday, Mom generously picked up everyone's tab at the restaurant, spending a million dollars. Meanwhile, I'm wearing an ill-fitting clown costume and performing various funny stunts for the guests. After the performance, Mom eyes my winded state and scowls as she snaps, "This is the best you could do after you left without leaving a note all those years ago? You're an embarrassment to the Jacobson family!" I flash her a professional, disingenuous smile. "I'm afraid you've got the wrong person, ma'am. A tip is welcome, though, if you liked my performance." I wish I had the sense to leave my family all those years ago. If I had, I might not have been pushed off a cliff by Darren Jacobson and nearly fallen to my death. Now, I've stopped holding out for what little kinship was left between my family and me. Mom throws the 200-dollar tip meant for me on the floor, then storms off. I pick up the bank notes and run my hand along my cold prosthetic, secretly relieved. Finally, I have enough money for a new prosthetic. Thank goodness.

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.

Before the awakening ceremony, our pack reserved two family seats for every teenager taking part. I handed Mom and Dad their invitations and reminded them three times when it started. Every time, Mom said, “We know. We’ll be there.” But that day, I waited outside for three hours. Neither of them showed up. Other dads had brought cameras, ready to capture the moment their children awakened. Other moms had packed their kids’ favorite fruit to help them regain their strength afterward. Mom finally picked up just as the ceremony was about to start. “Mom, why aren’t you here yet?” “Huh? Here for what?” “My awakening ceremony. You promised you’d come.” She went quiet for a few seconds. “Your sister has a dance competition today. Your dad’s there with her.” “And your brother has a toothache. I’m at the healer’s with him.” “The ceremony will go ahead whether we’re there or not. You’ll be fine on your own.” Then she hung up. I walked in alone. Some of the other teenagers gave me pitying looks. Others smirked. That day, I awakened the strongest wolf in my group. It wasn’t until dark that the family group chat lit up. Mom sent a picture of my brother eating ice cream. Dad said my sister had won a prize, and he was taking her out to celebrate. Only when tears blurred my vision did I open Silverfrost Pack’s offer to train as a warrior and accept it. If there was no place for me in this family, I wouldn’t stay.

Growing up, I knew my father hated it when we lost our composure in public. Before Thanksgiving dinner, my sister, Elena, suddenly offered to put my long hair up for me. I didn't say no. I'd barely sat down when I heard the scissors snip behind me. Blond hair I'd spent seven years growing fell to the floor. Elena held up a lock of my hair and doubled over laughing. "Olivia, you look like a clown." I looked at my mother. She looked me over, wineglass in hand, and laughed too. "Don't cry. The guests will be here any minute. Don't let anyone see you fall apart over a few locks of hair." My father frowned and rapped on the table. "Go wash your face. I don't want the guests seeing you like this tonight." Eyes red, I finally looked at my fiancé, Vincent Ashford. He was sliding $2,000 across the table to Elena. "You win." When he saw me looking, he glanced at my hair and chuckled. "She bet you'd cry in one minute. I bet three. You really let me down." Everyone around us burst out laughing. When I was 16, Elena wrote "IDIOT" on the back of my evening gown, and everyone at the party laughed at me. When I was 21, she tore up my recommendation letter, costing me my one chance to leave home and study abroad. Every time, they told me the same thing: It was just a joke. This time, I didn't argue. I looked down at the blond hair all over the floor. Suddenly, it felt like she'd cut off more than my hair. She'd severed the last thread tying me to this family.

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.”