Cerita Pendek & Novel Familial Bond Karma

My mom passed away when I was twelve, leaving everything she had to me. My dad cried at her bedside, swearing he'd never remarry and that he'd take care of me no matter what. But six months later, my stepmother moved into the villa my mom had left me, with her daughter. She told me, "I'll love you like you're my own." It didn't take long before my room, my clothes, everything, was taken over by her daughter. I got shipped off to a boarding school and was only allowed home on weekends. That went on for four years. After my father had been away on business for months, her abuse only got worse. She even tried to make me take the fall for her daughter. When I refused, she locked me in the basement and left me there to die. I fought with everything I had, found the old phone my mom had left behind, and called my grandfather. On the other end of the line, his voice was pure fury: "No one messes with a granddaughter of the Moretti family!"

The day Sofia died, I scattered her ashes into the sea myself. In my last life, I called her my stepmother for thirteen years. She pulled me from dead last at a school in the slums to the top ten in the whole city, gave me the first dress of my life, and taught me how to sit straight at the Moreno dinner table and never bow my head to anyone. On the late nights when my father Leon got drunk and smashed his bottles, it was always her who closed my bedroom door first, then walked alone into the living room to face the man that love and power had already driven mad. Seven days after she died of her illness, Leon finally lost his mind. He charged into the sea off the old docks, screaming, "Sofia, I was wrong! I'm coming down to be with you!" I clung to him with everything I had, and in the struggle I fell into the freezing water myself. When I opened my eyes again, I was five years old. Sofia was crouched on the floor, tying my shoelaces. Her fingers were warm, the pads still carrying the thin calluses left by years of holding a pen over the ledgers. I threw my arms around her neck and buried my face in the crook of her shoulder. "Mommy, this time I don't want anyone else. I only want you."

Right after I reunited with my biological Alpha family, my brother, Henry, forced me to go mountain climbing with him for training even when I had asthma. He was convinced that his family's bloodline was too powerful for someone as physically weak as me to exist among them. Not wanting to disappoint him, I pushed myself to keep up despite my condition. Halfway up the mountain, I suffered an asthma attack, collapsed, and began suffocating. As I struggled to reach my asthma medication, my adopted sister, Ella, kicked my backpack away and sneered. "Eleanor, that's such a pathetic trick. Do you really think Henry will believe you?" She turned to Henry and said in a sweet voice, "Eleanor is faking it again. She's even trying to use her medication to get out of training. I threw her bag away. You won't blame me for that, will you?" Henry shot me a cold, impatient glance. "Eleanor, no werewolf is as fragile as you. Don't even think you can fool us with your little act! Nobody is allowed to help her! Let her get up on her own!" I lay on the ground and struggled to breathe with my hand stretched desperately toward my backpack. I kept reaching until the last of the oxygen in my lungs was gone. Then everything went black, and I lost consciousness. When I opened my eyes again, I had become a spirit floating in the air. Looking down at my small, lifeless body, I forced a bitter smile. 'Henry, I'm dead. This time, I really can't get back up anymore.'

When my sister, Amelia, and I are waiting to be adopted at the orphanage, a man and a woman come to visit. Ambitious as ever, Amelia instantly sets her sights on the elegantly dressed woman named Charlotte Evans, while I end up being chosen by the man in plain, unremarkable clothes. But to my surprise, the man turns out to be a discreet billionaire. After adopting me, he publicly announces my identity for everyone to see. Meanwhile, Amelia is taken in by Charlotte, who's so harsh it borders on cruel. She constantly scolds and punishes her. Moreover, Amelia is bullied at school and even gets doused in dirty water by her classmates. While she stands there trembling and humiliated, I walk away with friends crowding around me. Consumed by jealousy and resentment, Amelia waits for the perfect moment and pushes me off a tall building when I least expect it. The next time I open my eyes, I find myself back on the day we are supposed to be adopted. I watch as Amelia chooses the man without the slightest hesitation. It's obvious she's come back to this day, just like I have. On the day we part ways, Amelia gives me a knowing smile. "From now on, I'm going to live the high life. If you ever go hungry, maybe I'll spare you a bite or two." Outwardly, I look angry, but inside I am over the moon. In this life, Amelia can enjoy her luxurious life, even if it means living comfortably in a gilded cage.

My sister-in-law, Hannah Martinez, was eight months pregnant when someone shoved her to the ground. Due to the heavy bleeding, she was rushed to the hospital. I happened to drive past, but I rolled up my window and pretended I saw nothing, pressing down on the gas pedal. In my previous life, I had immediately taken Hannah to the hospital when I saw her pass out from the blood loss. However, the situation was critical. After the severe bleeding, she developed an amniotic fluid embolism. My wife, Lauren Martinez, was the best obstetrician in the city. I called her, begging her to hurry to the hospital. Yet, she thought I was throwing a tantrum out of jealousy because she was having dinner with her first love, Isaac Poole, and his family. She believed I was using Hannah's emergency to force her to come back. By the time her family finally arrived, Hannah had already died from the failed treatment of the amniotic fluid embolism. Her entire family blamed me for Hannah's death, convinced that I had deliberately caused Lauren to misunderstand and let Hannah die. My brother-in-law, Jacob Turner, who rushed back from out of town, believed their lies. In his overwhelming grief, he hacked me to death with a knife at Hannah's funeral. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day Hannah was pushed and started bleeding out.

When we get into a car accident, I use all my strength to push my mother, Sheila Carver, out of the way. But after Mom is saved, she completely ignores me as I lie trapped under the wreckage. Instead, she immediately leads the rescue team over to my younger brother, Lance Howell, who has only scraped his knee, and frantically makes sure it gets disinfected and bandaged. With the last bit of my strength, I beg Mom to save me. But she simply shouts at me with annoyance, "Can't you pick a better time to fight for attention? Do you have any idea that Lance could have been left with a scar?" Soon after, I die from lack of urgent care, and my body turns cold. Mom, however, loses her mind overnight.

A priest has shown up at my first birthday party. He claims that I'm a cursed soul—that my presence will bring doom to those close to me, and my existence itself can snatch everyone's luck. The only way to counter this is to give me up to an orphanage and let me live a life of poverty and suffering. Without a family, I'll be able to overcome my fate as a cursed soul. Daddy has the priest cast out of our home immediately. Meanwhile, Mommy hugs me tightly. "My son is the luckiest boy in the whole wide world!" But everything has changed when my younger brother, Andy Lawson, has fallen off the 20th floor. His body is completely shattered from the fall. I can only stand by the window uneasily. Fear is evident in my eyes as I wave my hands with all my might. "It wasn't me! It really wasn't me!" The wind that day is very strong, but it can never drown out Mommy's cries. Daddy hoists me up and stuffs me into Andy's coffin. I keep latching onto the sides of the coffin to the point my fingers are all bloodied and trampled over. At the same time, I keep screaming for Mommy. Mommy stares at me blankly at first. But her hollow gaze is soon filled with hatred. "Why aren't you the one dead? That priest told us that you'll have to stay in the coffin for seven whole days and nights just to atone for your sins! Only then can Andy's soul rest in peace! "This is your fate and your sin, Adam!" The heavy lid slowly covers the coffin, soon sealing my hoarse cries and screams away. A long time later, a few voices ring out amid the sorrowful melody played by the organ. "Why is there a tiny gap in the coffin? Hurry up and nail it shut! We can't afford to have misfortune spread to us!" When the final nail is bolted onto the lid, I close my eyes. Mommy, Daddy, I'm no longer a cursed soul.

My mother-in-law, Teresa Hawke, said she was trapped inside her burning villa. I called my husband, Asher Jensen, begging him to save her. But he was too busy at some bar, flirting with his childhood sweetheart, Melanie Lanner. It wasn't until I begged him, over and over, that he finally went to save Teresa. But Melanie was snatched from that same bar, tortured, killed, and dumped. He acted like none of it mattered until I got pregnant. Then out of nowhere, he threw it all back on me, saying it was my fault. Asher pulled every string he could to bankrupt my family, driving Mom and Dad to leap to their deaths. Then he rounded up a gang of violent psychopaths and threw me in with them. I begged again and again, but he just watched me with that dead stare. "You'll suffer like Mel did before she died! She left this world in agony. Why should you get to live? That's not fair." 99 stab wounds—that was how many it took before I finally bled out and died. And then, I woke up, right back on the day Teresa screamed for help from inside that burning villa.

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."

Every student and teacher at my school called me the dumb blonde. I touched up my makeup at morning assembly, refused to wear a wrinkled skirt, and never carried a textbook in my bag. I even brought a compact to the Academic Champions Invitational. Minerva Blake, the captain of our academic team, couldn't stand me. She called me a blonde with a great body and nothing upstairs. "Out of everyone in this school, why did it have to be you?" I shrugged off the laughter from Minerva and the competitors from the elite private school, Rockford Academy. I watched myself in the mirror as I tied up my long curls. I already had a plan. If our high school lost to Rockford again, we'd lose the foundation's funding. The school would go bankrupt and shut down, leaving us all without a school. In the final round, Rockford answered the first four questions before we could. My three teammates were getting crushed. Even Minerva, our supposed genius, couldn't keep up with the other team. With 50 seconds left, our principal was on his feet pacing, and the teachers were praying for a miracle. Rockford's headmaster laughed out loud. "They picked someone who's just a pretty face. Is she going to do a cheer routine for us when this is over?" I ignored the laughter, picked up the response pad, and started answering. Six questions in 20 seconds. Six chimes rang out, one for each correct answer, and the scoreboard went wild. I had answered every remaining question. Six green lights. I didn't leave a single one for anyone else.

On the day I get promoted to the department manager, I take my parents on a trip during the holidays. But my dad invites my older brother, Jacob Hunt, and his family over as well. He even posts on social media about the event. "My oldest son really is amazing. The first thing he does is sponsor a trip for me right after he receives his salary." Jacob comments on that post, "It's my duty to care for my parents." All of my relatives compliment Jacob right away. They even text me on the family's group chat and tell me to learn from Jacob. As I quietly stare at my dad's social media post, I decide to unlink the family sharing account from my credit card right away. This time, I want to see how Jacob will care for our dad without my money.

On my twenty-ninth birthday, I was supposed to be formally announced as the next head of the Ashford family. But before the charity gala began, my mother fed my succession speech into the shredder and replaced it with a written pledge to my sister. "Lydia hasn't had an easy time since the wedding. Announce in public that you're giving her the Harbor Hotel. Think of it as backing her up." It was the first property my grandmother had left me, and the only project I had been allowed to run on my own in eight years. I asked my mother, "And if I'm not willing?" My father looked at me coldly. "Don't forget, you'll inherit all of Ashford one day. She only has us." They had always used the inheritance to keep me in line, forcing me to hand over what was mine to my sister Lydia. This time, I didn't argue. I took out the resignation letter I had signed long before and set it in front of my father. "Then let Lydia inherit all of Ashford. "From today on, I want nothing."

My sister was autistic. The doctors called it "severe sensory overload." The rule was simple: No sudden noises. Ever. So my whole life was set to mute. I never wore heels. I never raised my voice. I wasn't even allowed to laugh. It was all to keep her from having a meltdown. My father, Victor, the Don of the Castellano family, would grip my shoulder. His face was a mask of apology. "Sera, you're my good girl. Protecting your sister is our duty. You're healthy and strong. You can sacrifice a little for her, can't you?" That day, I was on the second-floor terrace and accidentally knocked over a pot of white roses. The sound of it shattering sent my sister, who was sunbathing in the garden below, into a meltdown. For the first time, Victor glared at me like I was the enemy. He roared, "Can't you just be quiet? Do you want to drive her insane?" My sister backed away in terror, right into a glass table, and let out a piercing scream. Victor charged past me, a blur of rage and panic. He slammed into me on the stairs as I was running down to help. I lost my footing and crashed chest-first into the sharp corner of a wrought-iron banister post. Pain exploded in my chest. I opened my mouth to scream, but only silence came out. My family swarmed around my shrieking sister. No one even glanced at me. My lungs filled with blood. I was drowning on the floor. They all thought my sister, the one with autism, needed the family's comfort. They thought I just took a fall. That I could wait. They were wrong.

Two years after I return to Cendria, I unexpectedly run into my daughter, whom my ex-wife had taken with her when she left me. "Do you regret everything you've done?" she asks, her voice dripping with arrogance. "If you apologize to my new dad, Liam, I'll try to convince Mom to forgive you." Before I can respond, an adorable little boy throws himself into my arms. "School's finally over, Dad. I missed you so much!" he exclaims. I take his hand and turn to leave. My ex-daughter is furious. "If you walk away from me now, I'll disown you!" she yells after us in frustration. I remain unbothered. She's free to do whatever she pleases. After all, none of it matters to me anymore.

My Alpha mother had a mark burned into my heart, a Submission Mark, all to guarantee I'd claim first place at the Ascension Trials. The mark was simple in its cruelty: whenever my heartbeat dipped below the intensity of combat training, it would scorch the flesh around my heart. No drifting off. No rest. Not even an extra breath during sparring. When I passed out from exhaustion, she'd pull out an iron whip soaked in silver solution and lash it across my hands. She called it "awakening the wolf's instincts." "You're a she-wolf. If you fail, you become the lowest thing in this pack and every male wolf will have the right to walk all over you." "Every drop of blood you shed is a stepping stone to the top." "Iron doesn't become a blade without fire. I've already begged the Moon Goddess for her blessing. Why can't you just push harder?" Today was the first round of the Ascension Trials on the pack's sacred calendar. I was the first contestant to break out of the underground arena, and instantly the pack's Record Keepers swarmed around me. My mother stood just outside the arena. Flush with pride, she triggered the Submission Mark and pushed my combat reflexes to the absolute limit of my wolf form. "Look at my daughter move, like she has Moon Goddess guidance. All thanks to my one-of-a-kind Branding Enhancement technique." But Mom... two days before the Trials started... Your mark, running at full power, burned my heart to nothing and stopped it cold. What more could you possibly want?

During a long holiday, my husband booked flights for a family vacation. On the way to the airport, I suddenly saw numbers appearing on everyone’s head. The numbers on my husband’s head indicated sixty years, but my parents and I had only six hours indicated on our heads. While I was puzzled over the meaning of those numbers, I noticed that the driver next to us only had six seconds indicated over his head through the car window. Five… Four… Three… Two… One. When the number turned zero, a massive truck immediately rammed into the car next to us. I saw flickers of fire, flesh and blood exploding before my eyes. People were screaming for help, but I could not hear anything. I trembled as cold sweat drenched my entire body. It was because my flight would be taking off in six hours.

Mom is diagnosed with a benign fibroid during her check-up, but somehow, she ends up getting her entire uterus removed, leading to her getting an infection and dying from it. With the surgical records in hand, I decide to sue the doctor for malpractice. But my wife, Anastasia Ziegler, who's also the director of the hospital, personally steps in to vouch for him. Enraged, I question her why. However, Anastasia just shoves me away coldly. "Your mom was already that old. What use did she have for her uterus? Louis' future is more important! Anyway, I'll waive the hospital bills. You'd better take down the court case, though. Don't embarrass me any further in the hospital." As I gaze at Mom's cold corpse, I can't help but chuckle. It turns out that Anastasia has no idea that her beloved side piece has killed off her actual mom, who had stayed widowed for many years.

When I turned eighteen, I awakened my wolf. That was also when a strange System appeared in my mind. It told me that if I won over Matthew Reed and survived his betrayal-and-groveling arc, I would receive $32 billion. That was the only reason I agreed to keep our marriage secret. But the night Matthew won Best Actor, he posted a photo on Instagram of himself feeding Hellfire Wings to his childhood sweetheart, Layla Bennett. The caption read: [After all this time, this is still the flavor I crave most.] Immediately afterward, he exposed our secret marriage and posted evidence that I had paid him to mark me against his will. The trending page crashed on the spot. My hands shook as I reached for him through our mind-link, but Matthew didn't sound sorry at all. "Layla's been diagnosed with terminal stomach cancer. This is her last wish. "She can't be labeled a homewrecker. You've had me for three years. Can't you show a little compassion for a dying woman?" The entire internet called me a homewrecker who was destroying their true love. Some of his fans even made black-and-white memorial photos of me and plastered them across my front door. They demanded that I, the "vicious mate," break our bond and step aside for his true love. I sat there in silence, tears running down my face, when the System suddenly roared inside my head: [Hostile betrayal by target detected. Host bears no responsibility. Groveling Protocol disabled.] [Mind-link backlash blocked. Switching to: Maximum Savage Comeback Mode!] The moment the System fell silent, my head snapped up, every trace of tears gone. I went live to the entire internet, grabbed a megaphone, and planted myself right outside Layla's VIP hospital room. "Terminal stomach cancer, and she's still stuffing her face with Hellfire Wings? Is she trying to die even faster?"

I was the heiress switched at birth by a nanny. It was not until I turned eighteen that my biological parents finally found me, and traded me back for the girl they had raised and loved as their own. However, fate played a cruel joke that very same week. My parents died in a car accident. The family business collapsed. In one night, I lost everything. My older brother survived, but his kidneys failed. I did not hesitate. I gave him mine. However, grief broke something in him. Blaming me for our parents' deaths, he spiraled into madness. "You killed Mom and Dad! Why wasn't it you who died instead?" he screamed. I gave up college and took on three jobs a day just to pay for his treatment. Years passed. One day, while cleaning a mansion as a housekeeper, I saw her, the "sister" I was traded for, gliding through a lavish party, dressed in designer clothes and dripping in jewels. I froze when I heard the voices I had long thought silenced. My parents, alive, speaking to her as gently as ever: "Jasmine, you're so compassionate… agreeing to end Helen's punishment early." My brother, the one who should still be seeing a therapist, frowned and objected. "No. Not even a day less. Just because she suffers a little doesn't mean she deserves to live." I glanced down at the medical report still warm in my hands. For the first time in years, I smiled. "Perfect," I whispered. "Now I can finally die like I wanted to."

My husband had just ducked into the bathroom when his phone started ringing. I glanced at the screen and saw it was his brother calling. A frown creased my brow, but I answered anyway. "George, why haven't you sent the $10,000 to Mom and Dad this month?" Ross Serrano said. "Mom just asked me about it." I hung up without a word, but a rush of fury surged through me. My husband stood at the bathroom door, his hands still dripping wet. I forced a bitter smile. "You make $8,000 a month, right? $3,000 goes to the mortgage, $2,000 to me, and you pocket $1,000 for yourself. You told me you sent $2,000 to your parents, so how did that magically turn into $10,000?" His lips quivered, his face draining of color. My heart sank, and my hands trembled uncontrollably. We'd been married for five years, and I'd never once laid eyes on his bank card. What other secrets was he keeping from me?