Nouvelles Male POV Familial Bond & Romans

I've invested in my cousin, Jack Glenwood's farm. His net profit is more than four million dollars per year. On the day I'm supposed to receive my bonus, Jack tears the contract stating that I get a 55% profit share right in front of my family. After that, he transfers 40 thousand dollars to me. He even has the audacity to pat me on the shoulder with a smile on his face. "Noah, you never did anything throughout the year. Since I'm giving you 40 thousand dollars, that means I'm treating you well, right?" I just smile as I look at Jack's greedy and despicable expression. Then, I accept the 40 thousand dollars without saying anything. The next day, I cut off the secret formula to the farm's feed and travel overseas to carry out a new round of investments. This time, I want to see how Jack will fare without my secret formula.

After I was taken into the mountains, I became the whole town's slave. If one field remained unharvested or one family's firewood went uncut, they beat my face bloody. They avoided my arms and legs only because they expected twice as much work from me the next day. On New Year's Eve, I finally decided I couldn't survive another day and went to the river to end my life, only to hear two people whispering behind the trees. "Watch yourself. He is still the Hawthornes' biological son. They sent him to Red Willow Hollow to learn discipline, not for you to use however you want." "Biological son? His parents haven't asked about him in years. They already have another boy, the polished young heir who visited last time. The difference between them is night and day. "If anything happens, we'll blame him. Mrs. Hawthorne said that a boy without manners doesn't deserve to be her son. He may as well die out here." I stood frozen above the river, forgetting even why I had come. My mother always boasted that her family came from old money. She said a gentleman's most important quality was proper conduct. So why, after seeing my body, did she abandon every rule of dignity she had ever demanded from me?

The day summer break started after my third year of college, Mom and Dad drove over in their SUV to pick us up. My older sister, Janet Gould, helped carry the luggage. My younger brother, Harvey Gould, clung to Mom and soaked up her attention. When I carried my duffel bag downstairs, they stared at me in shock. None of them recognized me. "Liam, is that you? How did you lose so much weight?" Mom looked me over, her expression hard to read. For a moment, I thought she was worried about me. But then she suddenly frowned. "You're not sick, are you? We don't have health insurance for you." Janet looked at me with disgust. "Did you lose all that weight just to compete with Harvey for attention? That's ridiculous." Dad leaned out of the car. "Stop wasting time. Our table at the restaurant will be ready any minute. Same as always. Harvey gets car sick, so he sits in the front. Janet will sit in the back. "There's not enough room. Liam, just take a cab." I gripped my duffel bag tighter. "But it's a five-seater. Now that I'm…" Before I could finish, they drove away. I stood there staring at my luggage for a long time. I used to weigh 240 pounds. When Mom bought Janet a designer jacket that cost over a thousand dollars, she said they didn't have my size, so I didn't get one. Harvey wore basketball shoes that cost a few hundred dollars. Dad said they'd be too tight on my feet because of my weight, so I didn't get a pair either. I used to think they left me out of the car because I was too heavy. But it turns out even after losing 90 pounds, there was still no place for me in this family. If that's how it is, I won't try to fit in anymore.

After spending five years in Virtue School, I was a machine that dutifully carried out every order. Seeing me staying as silent as a grave, my father exclaimed happily, "Jojo's such a good boy now. Come on, let's eat! Let's celebrate!" Hearing the order to eat, I sprang to my feet, grabbed a plate, and stayed on all fours, shoving food into my own mouth with my own hands. My sister Josie shot me a look of disgust. "Mom! Dad! How has he improved?! He's even more annoying now!" On the other hand, the culprit who made me like this—the adopted orphan of my mother's fallen comrade—was suddenly tearing up, his voice cracking. "Sorry, brother… I didn't know you'd hate me for so long. "If you hate me that much, I will go to my mother. I'm more than content after your parents have taken care of me for so long." My brain, essentially lobotomized by shock therapy, couldn't understand such complex sentences. So I only watched as he gritted his teeth and pressed his dinner knife against his own neck. My parents promptly leaped up to stop him, while Josie bellowed at me, "No! If anyone should die, it's Joseph! He's such a jinx, ruining the mood here as soon as he comes back!" It was another complex sentence, but my mind caught the order this time. 'Die. Joseph.' Without hesitation, I scrambled to my feet, dashed toward the open window, and jumped.

Before the national graduate entrance exam, my fiancée, Tara Mowry, had been holding on to both our exam permits and ID cards. She handed in only her own. When it was my turn, she showed up empty-handed, her tone as casual as if this were the most natural thing in the world. "I forgot to bring your permit and ID. Just skip this last section and let Cyrus have the spot instead." I stood frozen, stunned that Tara would scheme against me, all for Cyrus Tipton's sake. Cyrus was the Tipton family's fake heir. Ever since I'd been brought back into the family, my grades had outshone his at every turn. I stared at the woman I'd been bound to by an arranged family marriage, and something about the whole situation struck me as almost funny. I turned and walked away. Behind me, Tara's voice rose, sharp with panic. "You've already taken his place as the Tipton heir. Are you really going to fight him for a graduate school spot too?" "If you throw a tantrum and skip the exam now, what will people think of Cyrus? Do you want the whole school to think he forced you into it?" I didn't even turn around. A tantrum? She had no idea. Half a month earlier, I'd already been accepted into the Distinguished Scholars PhD Program at the National Institute of Advanced Sciences. Showing up for the exam today had only ever been a courtesy, something I did for the sake of the arranged marriage between our families. Since she didn't want it, that courtesy was officially over.

My parents suddenly told me that we were living in a novel. I was the frail and favored younger brother destined to get into college, marry my childhood sweetheart, and live an easy life. My older brother, Daniel Luther, on the other hand, was the expendable one. He was destined to fail his SAT and be beaten to death. My parents said that if they wanted to save him, they had to make sure he got into college. They did everything they could to help him, but he still failed his SAT. Meanwhile, I got into the same college as my childhood sweetheart, Priscilla Grimmie, through my own hard work. That night, my parents snatched my college acceptance letter and locked me in a cellar under the backyard. "Let your brother take your place and go to college first. You can retake your exams next year." My foot slipped, and I hit my head hard against a canning jar. Warm blood trickled down my neck. I shouted, "Mom, it hurts!" She didn't even turn around. "Caleb, stop it! Your brother is one step away from his dreams!" Their footsteps gradually faded. I slowly closed my eyes. The next time I opened my eyes, I was already floating in midair.

In my sophomore year of college, my family went bankrupt. My mother was diagnosed with cancer, while my father was diagnosed with depression. Without hesitation, I dropped out of college and took on the responsibility of supporting them. I went from being the privileged heir to the Lawson family fortune to an exhausted laborer barely scraping by almost overnight. My skin grew tan from working under the sun. My hands became covered in calluses. Eventually, prolonged exposure to toxic levels of formaldehyde at one of my jobs gave me leukemia. I refused treatment and kept the diagnosis from my parents. Instead, I worked harder than ever. I was not afraid of dying. I was only afraid that I would die before I had saved enough for their surgeries. One morning, after coughing up a mouthful of blood, I took a cab straight to work. Just as I had intended, I died at my desk, leaving my parents with a strong claim for compensation from the company. However, after my death, I saw them living happily in a luxury home downtown, doting on a little girl who looked about ten years old. It turned out that my family had never gone bankrupt and that neither of my parents had ever been sick. The entire ordeal had been nothing more than a test they had devised for me.

After finally wrapping up my mission, I figured sticking around in this world meant I was in for a smooth, happy ride from here on out. Then my twin brother and I got plowed over by a car. My wife, who happens to be a doctor, took one look at me drenched in blood and didn't even blink—she loaded my brother, who'd barely skinned his knee, into the ambulance first without a second thought. My own daughter, the one I raised with these two hands, just let out a sigh of relief that it wasn't her uncle lying in the ICU. When my parents got the news and came racing over, they barely glanced my way before swarming my brother to fuss over his scratch. That was it for me. I felt something inside go cold and dead. I didn't have it in me to fight anymore. I just let my eyes fall shut. Right there, in that last second before I slipped away, I finally heard the System again—the one that'd been dead silent for years. "Host, you regretting it now?" I managed a weak, bitter smile. "Yeah. I am." "Considering your attitude, if you can fill your family's Regret Meter, there's a chance you can go back to your original world. Host, you up for this new mission?" Twenty-five years, and I never once got them to truly love me. So what are the odds they'd actually feel sorry I'm gone—in just one week?

My parents' enemy kidnapped me and live-streamed cutting off my fingers, just to force them to show up. For a time, the entire internet was searching for my parents. But what no one knew was that the police chief on the live connection was my real father. At that very moment, he was on a beach in Havai, lighting fireworks for his adopted son. And on their barbecue table, the live stream of my fingers being cut off was playing. Later, I survived long enough to be rescued, and I reached out with my severed fingers, wanting to touch my parents. But they recoiled in disgust and, without so much as a backward glance, took their adopted son out for steak. What they never realized was that hidden inside my severed fingers was something that would make them regret everything.

At a community party held to commend Dad, the community association director taps the microphone and makes an announcement. He says, "Mr. Cohen is selfless indeed. He has donated all the profits from his son's cafe to Jared Leroy. He solved the biggest problem that Gavin Leroy's household is facing." I think I must have heard him wrong. So the reason my accounts never added up was because my dad, Leonard Cohen, had given away my cafe's profits. But Dad straightens himself and says to me, "Gavin once saved my life, Hugh. Now, his family can't even afford the rent. What's wrong with you helping them out a little?" "Then what about me?" I ask in a shaky voice. Dad says with a frown, "You're different. After all, you're young. A little hardship will help you grow." Tears fall onto the account book clenched in my hands, blurring the ink. "If you're so desperate to have someone repay your kindness like you're their savior," I say, tearing out the last page of the ledger. "Then let Jared be the one to support you when you're old."

In order to take care of my father, who got hurt from a fall, I gave up on my chance to get promoted and even took a week's leave. On the day he gets discharged from the hospital, my dad hands me a mysterious envelope with a wide smile on his face. "Thank you for your trouble over the past few days, Luther. This is a little token of appreciation from me. You can buy yourself a nice pack of smokes." I rub my hands together, feeling warmth surging into my heart. But when I open the envelope, all I see is seven dollars. Still, I comfort myself in thinking that the sum isn't important at all. It's the thought that counts, after all. But the next day, I come across a social media post of my younger brother, Felix Grayson, who never showed his face around the hospital during Dad's hospitalization. It features a photo collage of a luxurious villa, with a photo of the purchasing contract smack dab in the middle of collage. The caption writes, "I bought the top-tier riverside villa for seven million dollars! Thank you so much for your support, Dad!"

When I start middle school, Dad quits his job to become my full-time study coach. He devotes every ounce of energy to monitoring my academics and refuses to let a single distraction near me. My best friend in middle school has average grades, so Dad goes straight to his parents for a talk. "My son is going to a top school. Don't let your kid's low IQ rub off on him." I lose my closest friend after that, and the rest of my classmates start keeping their distance too. In high school, the class rep asks me a math question one day, and Dad sees it happen. Without a word, he slaps her across the face. "Already flirting with boys at your age? I'll have the principal expel you! "Just asking a question? My son's study time is precious. If you're too stupid to figure it out, hire a tutor!" After that, I have no social life left at all. I finally get into a top university out of state. Dad even agrees to let me live in the dorms. I think this is my chance to break free. But on move-in day, he shows up at the campus gate, suitcases in hand. "Let's go, Tyler! I thought it over and decided to move here with you!"

I'm the unluckiest real heir to the Hoffman family. I have been reborn 99 times now, and each time, it's on the exact same day—the day I'm brought home for the first time and immediately sent away by a single question from the fake heir, Dexter Hoffman. "Whom do you love more, Dante? Mom or Dad?" "If Desiree and I both fall into the water at the same time, who will you save first, Dante?" No matter what my answer is, my whole family will think it's wrong and judge me as a horrible, malicious person. And then, I will die under mysterious circumstances. When I'm reborn for the 100th time, I decide to give up on giving any real answers and just slack off. Dexter stands next to Mom and Dad and asks me the same question again with a smile on his face. However, I remain standing in place and say nothing in response. Dexter flies into a rage. "Are you deaf or mute, Dante Hoffman? Why aren't you saying anything?" I happily bring out my handy notebook and write, "Are you welcoming me home, Dexter? I'm sorry, but I'm deaf and mute, and I can't hear your beautiful voice. "I'm so happy and touched. You're the first person who doesn't despise me." I even draw a crying face at the end. Dexter is shocked. Even Mom, Dad, and my elder sister, Desiree Hoffman, are utterly confused.

I have pica. I have had a compulsion to eat hair for as long as I can remember. Whenever I feel strands of hair tugging inside my stomach, I feel strangely calm. I look at my thin wrists and the sharp outline of my ribs, and I feel proud. Sometimes Mom cries and asks why I became like this. Seeing her hurt because of me fills me with satisfaction. Dad runs himself ragged trying to get me appointments with specialists, his hair turning completely gray from the strain. And somehow, that makes me feel happy too. My therapist asks whether there is some knot inside me I can't untie. I shake my head and say that my parents have always favored and spoiled me. How could there be a knot? It isn't until Mom completely breaks down in the consultation room that the truth begins to surface. She drops to her knees in front of me, presses her forehead to the floor, and sobs. "Please forgive us. Please stop doing this to yourself, okay?"

To save my daughter, I collected 50,000 plastic bottles. Day after day, I dug through trash, carried them home, and traded them for scraps of hope. However, when I finally hauled them all to the recycling center, I learned their selling price had dropped. The 50,000 bottles were worth only enough to buy my daughter a better urn. Desperate, I held my feverish daughter in my arms as she suffered a seizure. I called my actress wife for help. Her answer was ice-cold. “$5,000 for a fever? Do you think I’m some kind of charity?” The irony was that she had spent $50 million building a private hospital for her screen partner’s dog just hours earlier.

After I started college, my mother announced that she would be giving me my living expenses in installments. "Hank, you're grown up now. To teach you how to manage your money, I've decided to give you your living expenses in installments." At first, I assumed she meant she would send my allowance once a month. At worst, maybe once a week. But on the day I checked in, she walked around the cafeteria, then transferred $6.80 to my bank account. I stared at her in confusion. "Mom, you sent the wrong amount." She shook her head with a smile. "Silly boy, that's your lunch money for today. I already picked out the cheapest meal for you. Just get the set lunch from that place. From now on, you can apply to me for the cost of each meal based on this amount." I was completely stunned. So when she said "installments," she did not mean monthly or even weekly. She meant every single meal. But by the third day, I was standing at the breakfast counter, struggling to come up with the $1.50 I needed for an egg. When I asked my mother for money, she refused. Instead, she simply said, "I paid for your brother's house in full yesterday. I don't have any extra cash on hand right now. Missing one meal won't kill you, will it?" The cafeteria lady looked at me with surprise and pity. That look burned a hole straight through my already fragile pride. That day, I held the egg the lady had given me and searched for a part-time job. Yet, when I no longer needed my mother, she was the one who panicked.

When the murderer tortures me to death, my criminal investigator dad and chief forensic pathologist mom are cheering at my brother's match. The criminal saws off my tongue. He answers my Dad's call with my finger. Just before the call ends, Dad's cold voice cuts through. "Playing dead, huh? We should never have brought him back." The murderer chuckles mockingly. "Looks like I grabbed the wrong kid. I thought they'd care more about their real son." When Mom and Dad arrive at the crime scene later, they stare at the mutilated body in shock and rage at the murderer's cruelty. But they never realize that the broken, bloodied body is their biological son.

I am the Hogan family's long-lost biological son, while Jared Hogan is the impostor who grew up in my place. Then, Jared unexpectedly acquires an "Academic Leech System". All he has to do is enter someone's name, and whenever he takes an exam, their score becomes his. He mistakes me for the other Riley Hogan, the STEM prodigy who has dominated Elmland High's district rankings for three straight years, and eagerly locks the system onto my name. With three months left before the college entrance exams, Jared spends every class scrolling through videos and every break playing games. He boasts that he could get into any prestigious college with his eyes closed. When I warn him that the exams are no joke, his fiancee immediately jumps to his defense. "Jared is a genius. What would some country bumpkin like you know?" My parents take his side, too. "Jared was born brilliant. Stop being jealous of him!" What none of them know is that Elmland High's famous Riley Hogan is a girl. She has already accepted early admission to Oaklum University and isn't taking the entrance exam at all. As for me? I'm just an art student who spends every waking hour painting. On score-release day, Jared invites the press to broadcast his results live, ready to unveil himself as the nation's newest academic genius. As I watch him bask in the cameras, I quietly tuck away my acceptance letter from Westbridge Academy of Art. So he wants to steal my score? Fine. He can have all 8 points. Consider it a graduation gift from me.

My sister, Ruby O'Brien—the family's formidable CEO—had just landed herself a top-tier celebrity boyfriend. Now the two of them were filming a reality show right in her house. All I wanted was to go home and collapse on the couch. Instead, I wound up as his living control group. While he worked out, I lay there. While he read books, I lay there. While he cooked gourmet meals, I still lay there. The internet wanted my head on a platter. [Poor Josh, stuck with a useless future brother-in-law!] [Someone drag that lazy bum off the screen. We just want to watch Josh and his girl fall in love!] [I heard he didn't even sit for the SATs. Total dropout, rotting away at home.] [That's our Josh, though—a certified genius who just got accepted into Layne University's graduate program!] I rolled over lazily, completely baffled. Getting into Layne's graduate program was supposed to be impressive? And I was the lazy dropout? Were they talking about the guy who'd just won an international physics prize?

On the seventh day after my dad's passing, I head over to the funeral home to wrap up the aftermath of the funeral as well as pack up my dad's personal effects. That's when an employee stops me and demands that I cough up an additional 100 thousand dollars for the storage and preservation of my dad's corpse. I'm stunned, to say the least. Dad has already gotten cremated and buried a long time ago. His ashes are already deposited inside the graveyard, as we speak. So, how is his body getting stored and preserved throughout the week? I use facts and logic to argue with the employee. But he has the gall to threaten me with an impatient scowl on his face. "Stop yapping already! The system shows that your father's body is still inside the cold storage! It's been seven days, so you must pay 100 thousand dollars, no matter what! If you refuse to settle the payment, you can forget about taking your father's personal effects with you! "When the time comes, you have to cough up the additional charges as well! If not, I shall see you at court!" As I stare at the hostile employee, I can feel rage simmering in my blood. Still, I call every family member and relative I have to borrow 100 thousand dollars from them just so I can make the payment. With the receipt in hand, I walk into the police station right away. "Officer, my dad was cremated and buried seven days ago. But the funeral home decided to charge me 100 thousand dollars' worth of storage and preservation fees for no reason! I suspect that they didn't send my father off the proper way!" When the police show up at the funeral home, the same employee who threatened me looks alarmed. He quickly gets his manager, Mr. Lawson, to deal with the situation. Impatience is etched all over Mr. Lawson's face as he snaps at me, "Your father has already gone through the cremation process seven days ago. The procedure and all the receipts are intact. Don't you dare kick up a fuss irrationally now!" I let out a cold chuckle in return before showing Mr. Lawson the receipt. "I'm being irrational, you say? I've just paid for the storage fees of my father's corpse, and here's the receipt to prove the validity of the transaction! You must return my father to me today!" I thought the funeral home insisted on charging me earlier. Now, they'd better fulfill their side of the bargain by returning my dad's corpse to me without a single hair out of place!