Nouvelles Inspirational & Romans

After I was abducted at six and forced into the largest theft ring on the East Coast, I learned one thing. Anyone who comes at me gets it right back. At eight, a trainer had it in for me, so I slipped a diamond ring into his coat pocket. He ended up with three broken ribs. At twelve, someone took the money I had spent six months saving, so I took everything he had. At sixteen, I escaped that place. Four years later, the Vail Group was the largest conglomerate on the East Coast. That same year, Vail bought out the theft ring that had taken me, and everyone on the East Coast started wondering who Vail's chairman was. Then my birth parents, who headed the Whitmore family, found me through a DNA match and planned to acknowledge me as their daughter at a family dinner. I wore a faded old coat to the dinner on purpose. I wanted to know whether they would still want me if I had nothing. At dinner, my father announced who I was and said I would marry the head of the Ross family. Celeste, their adopted daughter, linked arms with my mother. "A beggar like her gets to marry into the Ross family. She should be grateful." Everyone around us smiled at me. I looked up at them. "If it's such a good match, why don't you marry the eighty-two-year-old gangster yourself?" That stopped Celeste. It clearly hadn't occurred to her that I would answer back. I smiled again. "Besides, the Ross family was finished anyway. I bought them out last month."

My fiancé, Orlando, was a mafia captain. Three years ago, he got caught in a shootout, and someone tried to kill him. I took the bullet for him without thinking twice. The wound left me so weak that I spent most of my days stuck at home. Afraid I'd get hurt again, Orlando brought in a maid named Cecilia to look after me and act as my stand-in. Whatever was meant for me, she tried it first to make sure it was safe. Little by little, she got everything before I did. First to break in my heels. First to sleep in my wedding bed. Even the trip to Iceland I'd waited years for—she went with Orlando first, in my place. When the accident happened at the shopping center, Orlando still carried Cecilia into the emergency stairwell first. A falling stone column crushed my ankle. Lying in that hospital bed, I finally lost it. Orlando only frowned at me. "Nadia, stop making a scene. Cecilia is just your stand-in. She faces the danger first so you can stay safe." He sounded so sincere. He took my hand and pressed it to his lips. "Nadia, try to understand how hard this is for me. I can't let you get hurt again. I just can't." That devotion of his made me give in one more time. I never imagined that even at my own wedding—the day that mattered more to me than anything—Cecilia would wear my wedding dress before I did. I can make do with something secondhand. But I don't want a secondhand man.

On yearbook photo day, I went over and stood next to my boyfriend, Blake Whitmore. Madison Vance, the cheer captain and sorority president, showed up late, and the crowd parted for her without being asked. A path opened straight to Blake, who stood dead center. "What took you so long? You just turned every head in the place." Blake smiled softly and pulled her into the spot beside him. I was pushed out of the frame. Tyler Brooks, my friend since childhood, caught my arm. "Claire, don't fight Madison for the spot. She's the main character today." Then he traded places with me and took the spot next to her. The crowd started whooping. The fraternity president stood on one side and the vice president on the other, with Madison safely between them. When the group shot was done, the whooping started up again. Blake and Madison had won Cutest Couple in this year's yearbook by a landslide. A hairline crack opened inside my chest, and the cold seeped through it. I was the one dating Blake. Everyone had voted for them anyway. Out on the lawn, the photographer guided the two of them through one close pose after another. Then he called out to us. "Mr. President, where's your fraternity pin? Put it on your queen!" My hand went to the Greek-letter pin over my heart. Blake looked over at me and jogged toward me. "Babe, let me borrow it. Don't be stingy." He took my wrist and moved my hand aside, then removed the pin he'd fastened there himself three years ago. People around us started murmuring. "Oh, that's her. Claire. Blake's girlfriend." "I never even noticed her... She really doesn't stand out." Something in me went hollow, and my hands closed into fists. Your moment of glory has nothing to do with me. So from now on, my life has nothing to do with you.

The day Lillian was born, my husband, Darian Ford, lied to me. He was with Maya Bell while she gave birth, and he missed our daughter's first cry. He came back full of guilt, apologized, and did everything he could to look after our daughter and me. Maya's child happened to start preschool on the same day as Lillian. Darian missed Lillian's preschool orientation. I saw the disappointment on my daughter's face. All I could do was tell her quietly, "It's all right. You still have me." When she fell down the stairs, I called him in a panic. He swore he was on his way. We waited three hours at the hospital. Then we found him in a video that had gone viral. In the video, he was walking down the street with Maya's child in one arm and his other hand on Maya's back. An interviewer had stopped them because they looked like a picture-perfect family of three. When my daughter woke up crying for her father, I kissed her forehead and said, "Baby, from now on, it'll just be you and me. Is that all right?" He finally arrived, apologizing over and over. He promised to take us on a trip once she was better. But just as we were leaving, his phone rang. It was Maya's special ringtone. Maya's voice shook with sobs. "Darian, Sean has a high fever. I'm so scared. What do I do?" I didn't say anything. I waited to see what my daughter would do. Darian hung up, looking torn, and knelt in front of her. "Lillian, I have to go back to the city. Something urgent came up. Go ahead with your mom, and I'll join you later, all right?" I thought she would cry and cling to him the way she always had. Instead, she took a small step back and gave him an innocent but distant smile. "Mr. Ford, you don't have to come find us. Mom says not to talk to strangers."

My parents made me submit a written request to the family accountant for any expense over five dollars. They said it would keep me from becoming vain. On the day of the car accident, I sat in the ER, struggling to stay still through the pain. I charged $200 for emergency treatment to the card linked to my father's account. The bandage was barely on when my parents called to tear into me. "Who said you could steal from this family? The Bennett family has rules, and they do not include feeding parasites who bleed us dry!" They froze every card I had on the spot. The hospital discharged me because I couldn't pay for further observation. So I walked. More than ten miles back to the Bennett estate on Long Island, bleeding through my clothes. I pushed the gate open and saw every light in the main house burning. My parents were throwing Sophia an enormous 18th birthday party. The custom cake at the center of the party, made by one of New York's top pastry chefs, had cost three hundred twenty thousand dollars. This time I didn't stand there and ask them why, the way I always had. I calmly signed the waiver of inheritance and the financial settlement. Then I turned around and left.