Nouvelles Familial Bond & Romans Independence Regret

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 my parents died, the family went bankrupt, leaving my brother and me with a large sum of debt. To pay it off, he became a haunted-house test sleeper, while I acted as a corpse on film sets. For five years, we worked tirelessly, not daring to rest a single day—and still, the debt wasn't cleared. By the end of the year, only 13 thousand dollars remained. Gritting my teeth, I signed up as a clinical trial volunteer. When it was over, I dragged 13 thousand dollars in cash, brimming with joy, to show my brother. But I found him frowning, on the phone. "Dad, Mom, Lily's doing well. Have fun abroad," he said. "She's stopped spending recklessly. The punishment ends next year." What? Our parents weren't dead? Our family wasn't bankrupt? The five years of hardship, every ounce of struggle—I'd endured it all as punishment for my love of spending. My smile froze on my face. My stomach churned violently. A mouthful of fresh blood spilled out.

I've returned to the Ashcroft family for three years. All three homecoming parties have ended in failure. At the first party, I was accused of stealing a watch in front of the guests. Because of that, I became the entire elite society's laughingstock. In the second party, I was pushed into a swimming pool. As such, I suffered from a high fever and was comatose for three days. It almost killed me. In the third party, a forged paternity test was hurled in my face. My own mother announced that she had cut all ties with me on the spot. Every party ended with the fake heir, Everest Ashcroft, bursting into tears and admitting his mistakes. But the entire family kept telling me, "Everest is deathly afraid of you obtaining our love meant for him. That's why he threw a small tantrum. "You're already acknowledged as a son of the Ashcrofts. Why must you keep latching onto this matter so pettily?" In the fourth party held on the fourth year, Everest threatens to off himself. In order to save him, I fall from the rooftop, causing my right leg to suffer from a comminuted fracture. My entire family huddles around Everest, who's obviously shaken, and keeps showering him with love and care. The butler is ordered to pass on their message to me. "Know your place. Do not disturb Everest when he's in bedrest." As I caress my broken leg, I keep laughing until tears stream down my cheeks. It's not that Everest doesn't want the Ashcrofts to give away their love to me. It's just that the Ashcrofts don't want to acknowledge me as a part of them at all. In that case, I might as well leave this family permanently.

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.”

My little brother was the weakest man on the ship. He was a pirate, but he couldn't even lift a blade. Other pirates his age had already taken plenty of plunder, but he spent his days fussing over jars of medicine. He was always saying that fighting was bad, that it was too rough. He was bullied throughout his childhood, and I always stepped in for him. Later, I gave up piracy, got married, and came ashore to settle down as a wife. I didn't see him for a long time. Then one day, my husband, Duke Edgar Windham, brought his pregnant lover home. To make me accept that bastard child, he drugged me. "Helga, as long as you're a good girl and accept this child, you'll still be my wife. "After all, you don't have any family to back you up, do you? "That brother of yours is probably off somewhere fiddling with his herbs." When I refused, Edgar began beating me, and he never stopped. One day, after he'd nearly beaten me to death, the castle door was kicked in. A tall figure stood in the doorway. "Edgar, touch my sister again. I dare you."

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.

When I was seven years old, my parents burned my birth certificate right in front of me at the dinner table. Across from me, my younger sister, Abigail Parker, calmly cut into her steak without even looking up. Dad said that raising two children was just another investment, and every investment had to be cut loose before the losses became too big. I was the loss they chose to write off. They poured every advantage into Abigail while leaving me to grow up in a dark, damp basement. Twenty years later, my parents are old, and Abigail, whom they placed on a pedestal, has become the most ruthless creditor they've ever faced. Standing in the dust-covered family home, I unfold a yellowed document titled Family Asset Divestment Agreement and can't help but laugh. This time, I'm the one settling the accounts.

At our son's piano competition, my husband, Richard Hayes, received yet another call from Vivian Morgan. I'd lost count of how many times he'd said the same thing to me. "Elena, Vivian says Mia keeps crying for her daddy and won't go to sleep. She wants me to come over and help. I need to go..." I cut him off before he could finish. "But you promised Leo you'd be onstage with him when he received his award." "I'm sorry. I promised Jay I'd look after Vivian and Mia. I can't break my word." He paused. "Leo has you. I'm sure he'll understand." Before I could say anything to stop him, Richard turned and disappeared into the crowd. I watched him go and smiled bitterly. Jay Morgan had been his closest partner on the job. Jay had died on a mission, saving Richard's life. And Vivian was Jay's wife. Ever since Jay died, Richard had been taking care of her and her daughter. Short on money? She called him. Daughter sick? She called him. Daughter crying for a daddy? She called him again. Richard took care of everything for them. And our home? It was just Leo and me. When the competition ended, Leo took first place. He scanned the audience, his eyes bright with anticipation. The moment he saw me walk onto the stage alone, the light in his eyes slowly faded. He gave me a sad, knowing smile no child his age should have to wear. "Mom, Dad left us again, didn't he?" I opened my mouth to comfort him. But he suddenly grabbed my hand and looked up at me. "Mom, you said we'd move somewhere Dad wouldn't be. Did you really mean it?"

I've been married for eight years, but my husband won't let our daughter call him "Dad" because his childhood sweetheart's son struggles with severe depression. After he missed our daughter's parent-teacher meeting again because he was with Susan Lawson and her son, I decided to leave. I prepare the divorce papers and decide to leave with my daughter. I go to her school and find her homeroom teacher, Laura Anderson. "Ms. Anderson, I'd like to apply for a school transfer." She looks surprised. "Why the sudden decision to transfer?" I reply calmly, "Her dad has been working out of town, but he's finally settled down and wants us to move there." Laura sighs. "Well, that's not bad. I always thought you were a single mom." I smile. I'm not, for now. But I'll be one very soon.

I've been a stickler for getting things right since I was a child. Whenever anyone is vague, I keep asking questions until I get to the bottom of it. At the children's home, the director used to say that the crying child gets the candy. I asked, "Why doesn't the quiet child get any? Does a child have to cry to get candy?" The director had nothing to say to that. After I became a lawyer, my supervisor assigned me a case she claimed was guaranteed to win, despite there being no evidence. I asked, "With no evidence at all, how can we possibly win?" "That isn't for you to worry about. Just show up in court on time." I put the file back on her desk. "If I can't get the full picture, I'm not taking this case." After that, none of my colleagues dared dump another hopeless case on me. That changed when my birth parents brought me home to the Rossi Family and threw a belated banquet to formally acknowledge me as their daughter. Bruno, the butler, brought out a case. Inside was a Browning pistol with the Rossi crest set into the grip. "This is the keepsake the Rossi Family commissions for each of its children. Your three brothers each have one. So does Letitia." My father took aim at a vase worth a million across the room and fired a test shot before sliding the pistol toward me. "Yours. " I picked it up. Neither the magazine capacity nor the curve of the grip had been designed for my hand. I couldn't hold it securely. I looked at him. "Father, was this made specifically for me?" "Of course." I lifted it again with my palm up so he could see the gap between my fingers and the grip. "Then why was it designed for a hand smaller than mine? "If I had to use this pistol in the field, the sharp edge at the base would snag when I changed magazines and cost me my best chance to fire." I turned the pistol over so they could see the tiny letters engraved inside the chamber: L.L. "More importantly, those are Letitia's initials." I looked at Letitia. "Or did you swap mine out?"

The day the new Pack House was finished, my mother, Aria, the Luna, announced the room assignments. Every space in the three-story mansion was claimed. The top floor was the Alpha and Luna’s suite. The room next to it—the biggest, the most beautiful, with moonstones embedded in the walls to soothe a wolf’s soul—was for Chloe. Chloe’s father died ten years ago in the Blood Moon War. He sacrificed himself to save my brother, Jasper. After that, my family adopted her. The whole pack treated her like a hero’s orphan, protecting her at all costs. I traced the blueprints with my finger. Room by room. My name wasn't there. I asked my mother. She paused, then spoke in that gentle, matter-of-fact tone. “Eliana, you have to go to the border to prove you’re worthy of being the next Luna. If I give you the best room now, the pack will question it.” “Chloe is different. Her father gave his life for us. We’re all she has. This room is an honor she deserves. It will help her heal.” My brother, Jasper, was already excitedly talking to Chloe about building a hot spring on her terrace, one that would catch the moonlight. And my mate, the future Alpha Rhys, was personally overseeing the decorations, making sure Chloe’s room was perfect. I sat in the great hall, watching them all. So busy. So happy. I wasn't forgotten. Worse. They all subconsciously believed that to repay that debt, I should give up everything. Even my own mate had become part of the compensation package. Fine. If there was no place for me in the Pack House, the symbol of our future, then I’ll give it all up. I unlocked my phone. An email from the Lycan Research Institute sat in my inbox. I signed the contract. A ten-year commitment to the “Wolf Gene-Origin Project.” No contact with the outside world. This time, I was really leaving. And I was never coming back.

My boyfriend Theo Pemberton promised that once I got into the Werewolf Noble Academy, he would take me all over the city. Later, I earned the highest score in the pack and won admission to the Academy. Yet when that day came, everyone escorted my twin sister, Susanna Linden, into the city before me. Susanna went to the Hill City campus with Theo. I left alone for the remote Moon City campus. I would never again obsess over his promise to take me all over the city.

My name is Estella Savelli. I'm Severin Savelli's wife, and the Donna of the most feared Mafia family in this city. For ten years, I've devoted myself to managing his family's affairs and raising the two children he had with his ex. Then Valerie came back. His first love. The mother of his children. In just one week, she made my 16-year-old stepchildren, Lucien and Seraphina Savelli, forget who stayed up all night beside them when their fevers wouldn't break. Or how I'd pulled them into my arms when the shooting started and bled to keep them safe. The kids took her side fast. They helped Valerie frame me for stealing the Savelli family signet ring and selling secrets to our enemies. To punish me, Severin locked me in the dungeon. That night, I heard laughter upstairs. They were toasting Valerie. When the dungeon door slammed shut, I thought something inside me would die. But in that pitch darkness, I finally saw my own heart for what it was. I'd spent ten years loving them, and I'd never once loved myself. So I decided to file for divorce and walk away with nothing. Severin thought I'd end up on the street, begging for his pity like an abandoned dog. But when I came back after disappearing for three years, they were the ones on their knees, begging for my love. And this time, I wouldn't spare them so much as a glance.

After our rivals murdered my parents, I had to become something else. A fortress. I held the Blackthorne family together all by myself. My younger sister, Anna, couldn't stand the life—the blood and the fear. She cried, begging me to send her away, to college overseas. I said yes. And the first thing she does when she gets back? She goes to the Commission and accuses me of stealing her inheritance. She said it with this entitled, high-and-mighty tone. "My boyfriend, Victor, the Falcone heir, says I can't lose." "I just want what's mine," she said. "Half of the $8.7 million Mom and Dad left, and half of the Blackthorne family's power. Fair is fair, right?" But she knew damn well she'd already blown through every last cent of that $8.7 million. And the extra ten million I'd earned for her on top of that. That's when it hit me. My sacrifice hadn't just been for nothing. I'd raised a goddamn wolf, and she was insatiable. So this time, I let the kindness die. I gave her a cold smile. "My sweet, naive sister. It's time I showed you how a real Godmother plays."

Five years after my parents, Ian Smith and Sophia Wright, get divorced, I run into Dad at school. He has just finished attending a parent-teacher conference for his stepson, Eugene Moore, who ranks first in the grade, and he's beaming with pride. The moment he spots me, his expression instantly darkens. "Is this what you usually wear to school? Is this how your mother is raising you?" He hands me his business card, his tone dripping with condescension. "Here, take it. Tell your mother that if she's willing to swallow her pride and admit she was wrong, I'll transfer you into the international class right away. In any case, it's better than rotting away in the regular class." I don't take it. In fact, I simply take a step back. "That won't be necessary, Mr. Smith." His brows draw together, his eyes filled with disgust. "You really are just like your mother—a lost cause. From now on, don't tell anyone you're my daughter." I tighten my grip on the paper in my hand and calmly watch him leave. He has no idea that this isn't a report card. It's my withdrawal application, because since Mom died, there's no one left to pay my tuition.

I was diagnosed with leukemia when I was fifteen. So it wouldn't hurt my sister Lena's chances on her entrance exams, my whole family agreed to keep it from her. I pretended I'd gone to the countryside to recover. Through the pain, I quietly watched over every step of her progress, and in the end I died with one regret: I never got to see her one last time. Lena only learned the truth after she got into Westbridge, and she struggled through endless grief and guilt. But in the end, she carried my hopes with her and chose to live fully. As she grew, she slowly learned to make peace with the pain, and through her own life, she carried on the dreams I never got to finish.

To ensure fairness, my daughter said that she would draw lots to choose whose family to spend the New Year’s with every year. However, for the past nine years, she had spent the New Year’s with her in-laws. The latest draw was no different. On New Year’s Eve, my daughter gave me specific instructions. “Mom, we’re spending the New Year’s with my in-laws. We’ve made a reservation at the most expensive restaurant in town. Please help me save some money. You can just make some food at home for your dinner.” Hence, on New Year’s Eve, I ate alone while watching TV at home. When I stood up, I accidentally knocked over the raffle box. All the lots inside the box had my daughter’s handwriting. The words ‘in-laws’ were clearly written on every single one of them. For the past ten years, the lots had been fake. My daughter was willingly spending the New Year’s celebration with her in-laws, and she had never once thought of spending it with me, her biological mother, who had spent so much money on her. At the same time, I got a notification on my phone. Her mother-in-law posted something on social media. [My daughter-in-law is so lovely. She bought me so many gifts and chose to spend the New Year’s with us. It’s as if she’s our own daughter!] They smiled brightly in the video. On the table were gifts that she bought using my retirement fund. I did not sleep for the whole night. The next morning, I called the bank. “Please remove all the auto-debit accounts from my retirement account.” From then on, I would only spend my money on myself.

From the age of ten, every dollar my parents spent on me became a debt. Tuition. Clothes. Food. Even medical bills. By eighteen, I had signed one hundred and ninety-nine promissory notes. But Camilla—the daughter of the man who died protecting my parents—received everything for free. They gave her my bedroom, my inheritance bracelet, a Manhattan apartment, a Maserati, and eventually even the attention of my fiancé, Nick. My parents called it repaying her father’s sacrifice. They called my suffering “heir training.” On the eighteenth birthday Camilla and I shared, I was seriously injured in a car accident. While my family celebrated her aboard a Caribbean yacht, I begged them for three thousand dollars to pay for emergency surgery. They accused me of inventing the accident to ruin her party. Then Mom told me to sign another promissory note. That became number two hundred. I finally understood that no amount of obedience would make them choose me. So I gave myself seven days to repay every cent, surrender the DeLuca name, and end my engagement.

In the Blackthorn Pack, every wolf born into an Alpha bloodline received a moonstone after their first shift. At eighteen, during the Pack Recognition Ceremony, the Alpha set it into a ceremonial collar, marking their official place in the Pack. A week before my twin sister Sienna and I turned eighteen, my brother Rowan brought home our ceremonial collars. Sienna’s glittered with two moonstones. “Why does she have my moonstone?” I asked. Rowan shrugged. “Sienna wanted hers to look more special.” Then he handed me an old ceremonial collar pulled from the Pack vault. It was tarnished, with half the moonstone missing. Mother sighed. “You’re still being recognized as an Alpha’s daughter, Aria. Does the collar really matter that much?” All my life, I had been expected to give up one thing after another for Sienna. I thought the Recognition Ceremony would finally prove that I had a place in this Pack too. I was wrong. They took my moonstone and gave it to her. My phone vibrated with Moonridge University’s final admission deadline—the most prestigious university in the werewolf world. the most prestigious university in the werewolf world, nearly three thousands miles from my pack. This time, I pressed ACCEPT. They could celebrate Sienna as the daughter they wanted. I was done fighting for a place in a Pack that had never made room for 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.