Contos e Romances sobre Familial Bond com Marriage

My father-in-law, Arthur, was the rightful heir to the Mosby family fortune. When he insisted on marrying, Judith, my mother-in-law, who ran a small neighborhood restaurant, everyone said he had lost his mind. One morning over breakfast, Arthur suggested that we stop by Judith's restaurant. "Judith came home yesterday with a burn on her hand." Concern flashed in his eyes. "She refused to tell me what happened." The tenderness between them warmed my heart, so I immediately agreed to take him there. But while we were waiting in line, a broad-shouldered man suddenly shoved Arthur hard. "Move it, old man! You're blocking the way!" I caught Arthur before he fell and shook with anger. "What gives you the right to insult him or cut the line?" The man sneered and tossed a foul-smelling used napkin at our feet. "Because my wife owns this place! I can do whatever I want. Keep talking and I'll have her throw both of you out!" The air went still. All the color drained from Arthur's face, and the luxury bag he had just bought for Judith slipped from his hand. I froze. Could the woman Arthur had adored all his life really be having an affair?

Mom always said my sister was the little princess of our family, while I was a tough little monkey who could take anything. So whenever my sister caused trouble, I was the one who got punished. When she refused to eat vegetables, Mom made me skip dinner for three days. When she played on her tablet instead of doing homework, Mom smashed my favorite Star Ranger figure. When she climbed onto the windowsill to retrieve a toy, Mom made me stand outside in the sun all day. Mrs. Parker from downstairs always praised her. "You're such a wonderful mother. Most parents would have scolded their daughter." Mom would tap my forehead and answer as though it were obvious. "Boys are tougher. A little punishment won't hurt him, but my Lily should never have to suffer." One Saturday, my sister and I were home alone. She turned on the stove because she wanted to toast marshmallows. Mom came home just as the burner clicked on. Without asking a single question, she shoved me into the kitchen, opened a burner valve without lighting it, and told my sister, "Lily, the next time you touch the stove, I'll punish your brother again. Let this teach you a lesson." I pounded on the door and begged Mom to let me out. The door never opened. The rotten-egg smell grew stronger and stronger. And my eyelids grew heavier and heavier...

Vanessa Allen and I were the envy of everyone who knew us—we were the perfect, loving couple. What none of them knew was that I was never anything more than a stand-in for my younger brother. One offhand complaint from him that he wasn't feeling well, and Vanessa would drop me the second my heart gave out. I begged her, in tears, to save me. All I got back was a cold, "Stop making a scene." Mom frowned and told me to be the bigger person, to stop pulling petty stunts out of jealousy. Dad looked at me like I disgusted him and said if I really wanted to die, I should just hurry up and do it. Even my elder brother, the one who'd doted on me since we were kids, turned on me. "Miles has bipolar disorder. You know that. Why can't you just let it go for once?" After that, I finally let go of any illusions I had about love or family. That was when they finally started to regret it—when they came to me in tears, begging for forgiveness.

On my way home after a night shift, my wife, Lilian Jones, the associate chief of neurosurgery, suddenly called. "Honey, Garrett Lowe in Room 9 has suffered a ruptured cerebral aneurysm. You're the only surgeon in the hospital who can perform this operation. Come back now!" In my previous life, I did not hesitate. I made a U-turn and sped back to the hospital. However, by the time I burst into the operating room, Garrett was already dead on the table. Right in front of his family and the entire surgical team, Lilian slapped me across the face and insisted that my surgical error had cost Garrett his life. The hospital immediately suspended me from clinical duties, stripped me of my position as an attending neurosurgeon, and suspended my medical license for six months. Three days later, Garrett's family ambushed me outside the emergency department and stabbed me to death in broad daylight. Only after I died did I learn the truth. To give surgical resident Ethan Smith a chance to gain hands-on experience, Lilian violated hospital protocol and allowed him to take the lead in the operation. His inexperience cost Garrett his life, and I was nothing more than the scapegoat they sacrificed to cover it up. Less than a week after my funeral, the two of them moved in together openly. A few years later, they even became the hospital's model couple, admired and envied by everyone. "The patient's already under anesthesia, and the OR is fully prepped. Where are you?" Lilian's voice came through the phone again in this life, her barely concealed panic impossible to miss. I fell silent for a moment before answering in a hoarse voice, "Okay. I'll be right there."

Before my wife went into labor, a nurse handed me a stack of consent forms. Buried among them was an optional prenatal paternity screening offered through St. Briar Medical Center's new genetic-services program. I'd barely started signing when my mother-in-law, Margaret, charged at me and slapped me across the face. "You monster! My daughter is risking her life to give you a child, and you want a DNA test?" Before I could explain, the hospital-room door flew open. Vanessa pressed a pair of medical scissors against her neck, her eyes bloodshot. "Daniel, I've given you seven years of my life. You know who this baby's father is. Why would you humiliate me like this?" When I saw the thin line of blood on her throat, my heart broke, and I dropped to my knees. I tore up the testing form and ordered my attorney to draft an unconditional agreement transferring assets to the baby. To comfort her, I drove across Aldercrest searching for her favorite honey-lavender shortbread. But when I returned to the hospital room, I heard laughter inside. "Vanessa, thank God we reacted quickly. If he'd signed that testing form, everything would've been over." "Why worry? Daniel's an idiot. I only have to cry, and he believes me." Then a familiar male voice said, "Once the birth certificate gives the child the Raleigh name, everything Daniel owns will belong to the three of us." The words froze me outside the door. I turned away and called my attorney. "Cancel the agreement. Then hire an investigator and uncover everything." At the baby's welcome reception, I would personally present Vanessa with the gift she deserved.

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."

My wife brought home three identical boys and insisted they were mine. I rushed a DNA test overnight. It proved that none of the children was biologically related to either of us. She slapped me, called me a heartless cheater, and demanded a divorce that would leave me with nothing. I went to my best friend to vent, but the moment he saw the boys, he kicked me hard enough to break eight ribs. "Deny they're yours one more time, and I'll kill you myself." Sick with disbelief, I bought a ticket and fled to my parents' home that same night. I begged them to hear me out. Instead, they beat me to death with a garden hoe. Even as I died, I couldn't understand why everyone I loved was determined to make me claim three children no one knew. Then I opened my eyes and found myself back on the day my wife first brought them home.

My wife is sitting on a talk show and announces that she's already divided up every asset under her name. The host jokes that she must have left her husband and daughter a massive fortune, but my wife smiles gently and shakes her head. "I only left them enough to get by," she says. "Everything else goes to my adopted son. It's a promise I made to his father. I stood at his grave and promised his son would never have to worry about a thing." I'm standing in the kitchen, cooking for the two kids, and my hands go still. My eyes lift to the TV screen. The woman on it is going on and on about the man she lost, like she could talk about him forever, until the host finally cuts in. "Does your husband know about this?" She blinks in surprise for just a moment, but the smile on her face doesn't falter. "He won't object. He's been great with my adopted son all these years. Honestly, he's better at it than any nanny we could've hired." I untie my apron and walk out of the kitchen. My daughter is crouching on the floor, picking up toys for the boy. I gather her into my arms and carry her back to her room. Five years, and I've had enough. If nothing in this family belongs to me and my daughter, then whoever wants the nanny job can have it.

I was the sole heiress to the Alpha King of the Northern Territory, yet I fell in love with Caine, the Alpha of the Silver Moon pack in the East. Our territories were sworn enemies, so I kept my identity hidden and stayed by his side in the shadows. For ten years, I was his secretary, his weapon, and his only woman. I helped him transform the Silver Moon pack into one of the most powerful forces in the East. I had always hoped he would propose. After all, every night in bed, he would fuck me hard, his voice rough against my ear as he whispered over and over that I belonged to him. Then one day, after we made love, he said casually,”Starting tomorrow, you'll handle the schedule for the engagement.” I lay there, still trembling in the aftershocks. “Caine.” I sat up, my voice shaking. “Are you... asking me to marry you?” He turned and looked at me like the question surprised him. Like he hadn't expected anything so naive. “Marry you?” His tone was lazy. “The engagement's for Celina.” Celina. The daughter of the River Pack Alpha, next territory over. Something closed around my heart and dropped it straight through the floor. “You're marrying her.” My mind went blank.”Then what am I?” “Sophia,” he said. “You're an Omega. For ten years I've given you the best of everything. Protection. Status. My time.” His thumb stroked along my jaw. “But you know you can never be Luna. Don't go telling yourself fairy tales.” That's when I knew he had never considered me his mate. For his ambition, for that princess, he chose to sacrifice me. So, I chose to destroy everything I had ever given him. I dialed a number I hadn't called in ten years. “Dad.” “Sophia. My little princess. You've finally come to your senses?” The second I heard his voice, my throat locked up. “You were right, Dad. I want to come home.” I forced down the catch in my voice. “Come for me in five days.”

My girlfriend, Aria Zimmer, only agreed to marry me after I transferred one million dollars to her. My parents took the train from our hometown to discuss the marriage arrangements. We had to wait for three hours at the restaurant before Aria finally answered the phone. “What’s the rush? My mom’s facial treatment isn’t finished yet. You small-town folks always make such a big deal out of everything.” I felt so dejected that I even forgot to hang up. That was when I heard her mother, Jesicca, speak on the other end of the line. “Good job, sweetie. That’s exactly how you keep him in line. Otherwise, once you’re married, he’ll forget who’s the boss. Besides, he has already given you every penny he has, and you’re pregnant. He can’t run away now.” Through the blaring speakerphone, my parents lowered their heads in embarrassment. Out of nowhere, a desperate child’s voice echoed in my mind. “Dad, don’t marry her! And don’t let her give birth to me!” I shuddered and looked around frantically. “I’m your future daughter. I’ve returned to the past. Back then, you gave in and married Mom. Her mom hated that I was a girl, so she locked me outside in the middle of winter until I froze to death. Grandpa tried to stand up for me, but they broke his legs too. Dad, run!” After the child’s voice faded, I broke out in a cold sweat. At that moment, my father’s eyes welled up in tears as he tremblingly took my arm and said, “Philip, let’s just go home. We may not have much, but we can’t let ourselves be treated like this.” I took my parents’ hands and said resolutely, “Okay. Mom, Dad, let’s go home tomorrow. I’m calling off the wedding.”

"Daddy, I want to see Mommy," my son, Simon Lloyd, murmurs after he regains consciousness on the hospital bed. I freeze for a moment and instinctively look toward the hospital room door. No one is there. Yesterday, after Simon came out of the operating room, my wife, Selena Aston, held his hand and said, "Don't worry. I'll be right outside waiting for you. I'm not going anywhere." Why is she nowhere in sight? I begin to panic and pull out my phone to call her, but there's no answer. Just then, I see a new photo posted on Instagram. Her male colleague, Joe Carter, is the one who posted it. The caption reads, "I'd like to thank a certain someone for filling the role of a mother in my daughter's life." In the photo, Selena is wearing matching outfits with Joe's daughter, Katy Carter. She holds Katy in her arms while smiling brightly the whole time. They look like a happy family of three. That is, if Selena weren't my wife at all.

I spent two years and went to a lot of wine-and-dine before finally snagging the 100-billion-dollar deal with Mr. Lawson, the industry leader. On the night of the signing, my fiancée gave my client to the fake heir who had just returned from his study abroad. I asked her why she did that, but she held the fake heir's arm and looked at him like she was heartbroken. "He already had it rough, getting sent away. You're his brother. Surely, you can help him." Chris Riverson had a smug look on his face as he mocked, "You might be Dad and Mom's real son, but you should study how I handle business. Otherwise, you'll just end up embarrassing the family." The bastard stole my client and had the gall to lecture me? I laughed mirthlessly and looked at my mother, but she seemed proud as she took Chris' side. She announced, "Chris is right. He studied abroad for two years and has more experience than you. Besides, he's been with the family for more than 20 years. He has a stake in the company. You must be tired after managing everything for two years. "Let him handle things from now on." I didn't bother arguing. After all, Mr. Lawson only signed that deal after triple-checking that I was the person in charge. He had also made it clear that he had the right to pull out at any moment if I were to leave. These people wanted Chris to take over so hard, did they? Fine, they could have it, but I wasn't going to clean up any of their messes.

During the university’s hundred-year anniversary celebration, my daughter was cast as the lead in a play. A certain female classmate who had always been jealous of her conspired with others to swap out the safety cables. Halfway through the performance, the cable snapped, and my daughter fell from a great height. She bled to death on the spot. I rushed onto the stage in a frenzy, but my daughter’s advisor and others held me down with all their might. My wife was heartbroken. In front of the media cameras, she wiped away her tears. “My husband had been so desperate for our daughter to become famous that he secretly changed the safety wire to a thinner one...” Amid a storm of online abuse, I jumped to my death, filled with bitterness. When I opened my eyes again, I found myself back on the day of the anniversary celebration. Without a word, I immediately withdrew my daughter from school and locked her at home. That evening, I sat in the audience at the school anniversary gala. When it was time for the final play, the female lead wore my daughter’s costume and took the stage. My heart sank, and I looked around. The group that had bullied my daughter was sitting in the row in front of me. So, who exactly was the person hanging in midair right then, wearing my daughter’s costume?

Five years after Liam DeLuise went bankrupt and skipped town, he suddenly returned, richer than ever. While I was waiting in line at the hospital pharmacy to pick up lifesaving medication, he kidnapped my eight-year-old son, Teddy Molson. He called me on video. I immediately recognized the abandoned industrial park on the west side of town behind him. On the screen, Teddy, who had a heart condition, was suspended over a pool of water inside an abandoned warehouse. His skin had turned purple from the cold. Liam sneered into the camera. “You really are one hell of a friend, Dave! When I went bankrupt, you refused to help me and even stole my woman! Bet you never thought I’d make it back on top, did you? “Now, I’m going to make you feel what it’s like to lose the person you love most!” He raised the metal pipe, ready to break Teddy’s knee with it. My eyes burned with panic as I screamed at the screen. “Don’t touch him, Liam! He’s your son!”

Before the holiday ticket rush started, my fiancée, Lisa Jetrow, and I had agreed to go back to my hometown for the holidays. A minute before the train tickets went up for sale online, her phone suddenly rang. Her male assistant's voice was trembling on the phone, sounding flustered. "Ms. Jetrow, what should I do? My mom sprained her ankle, but my signal's terrible so I can't buy tickets to go home..." I was totally focused, double-checking all the info in the last thirty seconds. But Lisa suddenly grabbed my phone, deleted all my travel details, and keyed in her assistant's details instead. When she tossed my phone back to me, she and her assistant had successfully booked tickets, and the destination was his hometown. All the other tickets were already sold out. "Are you out of your mind? You promised my grandma..." "His hometown is really far, so he can't wait. I'll explain to your grandma later." I was speechless. My grandma was critically ill, and she wanted to see her grandson and future granddaughter-in-law one last time. Lisa had only reluctantly agreed to go back with me after I'd asked her three times. But she wasn't going back to my hometown now. She gave that precious ticket to someone else. Taking a deep breath, I opened a WhatsApp chat and typed: "Come pick me up. Grandma wants to see you."

My husband, Nathan Carter, had taken an interest in a young woman he'd been sponsoring through school. He hired her as our housekeeper with a generous salary. From that day on, my monthly allowance dropped from 120,000 dollars to just 120 dollars. She had to approve every expense for our household of more than a dozen people. Even the cook couldn't buy an extra bag of salt without getting her permission first. Furious, I went to Nathan to complain. He only smiled, looking completely unconcerned. "I like how careful she is with money. Don't you think it's cute?" Later, Nathan's mother accidentally fell from an upstairs balcony. She needed emergency surgery that would cost 30,000 dollars. I immediately called Nathan. "Your mom fell from upstairs. She needs surgery, and it costs 30,000. Hurry and have someone bring the money to the hospital." A mocking laugh came from the other end of the line. It wasn't Nathan. "A fall like that would only cause a few broken bones. Why would it cost 30,000? Ms. Smith has always been reckless with money. She has no idea how hard Mr. Carter works to earn it. If you won't help him save money, I will!"

The day I became the state's SATs valedictorian, my father, with his dyed blond hair, got so excited he put his food delivery helmet on crooked. He threw his arms around my mother, tears streaming down his face. "Honey! See that? I told you our genes were anything but ordinary! The curse's been lifted! Our son's gone and become the greatest of all time!" My mother, who had just dyed her hair purple, smacked her thigh as she shed tears of joy. "Bull! This is all because I quit the club scene for good and started selling grilled cheese sandwiches at the night market! God has seen my sincerity and rewarded us for it!" As I watched them celebrate like a pair of overgrown teenagers, I read the floating comments across my vision and had to blink away my tears. "You dummies, this has nothing to do with luck!" "You two swallowed so much bitterness just so your son could stand tall in public! Frankie over here got beaten and didn't dare fight back while Tanya pricked her fingers raw just to support his studies. You two sacrificed everything you had just so he could live well."

After I quit my job to become a full-time househusband, my wife, Brooke Lowell, left me with nothing but a bank card capped at 1,000 dollars a month. She said children had to be raised with hardship to grow up strong, and was always worried I might secretly give our daughter special treatment. But 1,000 dollars was nowhere near enough to cover a household's monthly expenses. Every time the kindergarten asked for nutrition fees, I could only swallow my pride and beg for leniency. "She's just a child. Why does she need that much money? You've got some nerve, living so comfortably on 1,000 a month." I had thought Brooke's harshness was meant to temper our daughter's character. That illusion lasted until I asked Brooke for 300 dollars to buy clothes for our daughter's Children's Day performance. What I received instead was humiliation and ridicule from everyone. Brooke accused me of acting like a spoiled rich kid, wasting money on unnecessary clothes. My mother-in-law complained that I dressed too poorly, like a beggar bringing shame to the family. Even my daughter blamed me for embarrassing her, saying I had ruined her Children's Day and damaged her props. I bowed my head, apologized, and paid compensation. Only then did I discover that my bank card had been frozen. The very next moment, Brooke's crush posted on social media about his son receiving a luxury mansion. 'Already a house-owner at three! Who'd believe she's not his birth mother?' Only then did I understand. People who truly loved someone would never be stingy when spending on them.

At my best friend Naomi Dodson's Sip and See, my husband, Joe Walsh, gifts her a luxury villa. I think it's a mix-up, but he stays deadly calm. "Naomi's baby is mine. The villa is her reward." The world goes cold around me. Desperate, I push for answers. "When did this start?" He knit his brows, annoyed. "Does it matter? You're still Mrs. Walsh. You get the money, the freedom, and a kid without the birth pains. What's not to like?" What he doesn't know is that he has severe azoospermia. I am never the infertile one. He is.

Today was my younger son, Luke's, eighteenth birthday. My ex-husband, Major General Arthur Ashford, let himself into my house without knocking. He headed straight for the liquor cabinet like he still owned the place. He poured himself a glass of whiskey and looked at me with open contempt. "Allison, how have you enjoyed the last eight years? Stuck here in Briarwood because of a family court order. "All because I broke a couple of glasses and put my hands on you a few times, you just had to file for divorce." "And what did that get you? The judge stopped you from taking the kids out of the city and made sure I got regular visitation." He swirled the whiskey in his glass, spilling a little onto the carpet. It was the same cocky look he wore the night he came home drunk and beat me with his belt. "You really thought you could get away from me? As long as I say no, you'll spend the rest of your life under my control. "After Luke cuts his cake, I am filing for emergency guardianship. You will never take my son away from me." I looked at his smug face, gripping the edge of my sleeve, and said nothing. Then he lifted his glass, ready to start barking orders at everyone. My daughter, Kate, rose from her chair and set a thick stack of papers onto the table in front of him. "General Ashford, you should read these. "As of midnight, Luke is legally an adult. Every travel restriction the family court placed on Mom is gone. "And this is the filing receipt for the name change petition for the two of us, which I filed with the Supreme Court." Arthur gave the papers a dismissive glance. Then his smile disappeared. Printed across the top in bold letters were the words: Petitions of Kate Ashford and Luke Ashford to Change Their Surname to Pierce.