Mistress Familial Bond Short Stories & Novels

On the first day of summer break, my daughter, Mia Leighton, is scheduled to perform a solo at the closing ceremony of her youth arts camp. It's her final audition for a televised performance, but there's one requirement— both parents have to be present to sign off on her participation. Mia had practiced every single day for this opportunity, pushing her voice until her throat was nearly raw. My wife, Thea Sawyer, had promised her too. "I will definitely be there. I won't let anything get in the way of your dream." But on the day of the performance, Mia sings the entire song while staring at an empty seat in the front row. When the TV station's staff asks about the missing signature, I hold my daughter's hand and plead with them repeatedly to make an exception. But they refuse. They tell me that these are the rules, and they're not allowed to make an exception unless I can present them with divorce papers. After the performance, we run into Thea as she comes out of a class next door. Walking beside her is the son of Clark Judson, her first love. The boy, Ian Judson, is clutching a guitar. It was only an ordinary rehearsal, yet Thea stayed by his side the entire time. Thea averts her eyes awkwardly, stammering as she explains, "Darling, Ian is shy and doesn't dare to play unless someone stays with him. Mia will have other opportunities. Besides, she has you there to support her." Instead of running into Thea's arms, Mia just clutches her songbook tightly. Then, she looks up at me and asks, "Daddy, did Mommy not come because I'm too much trouble?" I scoop my daughter into my arms. The staff member's words about divorce suddenly echo in my head. If Thea wants to play mother to someone else, I won't stop her anymore.

My secret boyfriend, Marco Ross—the fastest rising mafia star in New York—hid a ring in our home. I thought it was for me. Instead, I received a video of him proposing to another woman—Bianco Conti —on our anniversary. The same night, masked men broke in, held me at gunpoint, and forced me to call Marco. A woman answered the call, “Marco, your little orphan is calling again.” Then Marco’s cold tone. “Don’t bother, babe, she’s just your substitute, a stray I keep around, a free woman to warm my bed.” The masked men shot me in the stomach—then fled. What Marco didn’t know? The real Conti heiress… was me. The Bianco he cherished so much… was just an imposter. I once refused to take the Conti name because of Marco, afraid it would ruin us. But if he never cared… why should I? I made one call. “Papa, I’ll come home, take over the business, and accept the marriage alliance—but Bianca has to be go.”

To repay my parents for raising me for 20 years, I donate one of my kidneys to Samuel Caldwell, their biological son, curing him of his uremia. After Samuel recovers, he returns to the stage, dazzling audiences with his piano performances. Meanwhile, I survive on hormone treatments. My body is swollen beyond recognition, and I look utterly disgusting. I lock myself up in the house, staring blankly out the window day after day. Through it all, my fiancee, Shelby Holloway, never leaves my side. She comes up with new low-calorie meals every day and patiently helps me rebuild my strength. "Nick, make sure you get plenty of rest and don't overexert yourself, okay? I have a meeting to attend, so wait for me at home." Before she leaves, she gently straightens my collar. I truly believe life is slowly getting better. Then, in the backstage area of a theater, I catch Samuel holding Shelby tightly in his arms. "Shelby, Nick's in such poor health. I shouldn't be taking you away from him." Shelby buries herself against his chest, her voice full of pain. "What are you talking about? If it weren't for saving you, I never would have married that impostor. Every time I look at him, I feel sick. He looks like a pig! He'd have done everyone a great favor if he'd died on the operating table that day!" Shelby casts aside the bond we've shared since childhood and even wishes for my death, all for Samuel's sake. Just as well, I have no desire to continue living anymore either.

Everyone said my wife, Zoey Harper, was an amazing wife and mom who'd do anything for me and our son, Leo. Leo's doctor warned us three times that he might not make it. Then he died. Zoey claimed she was overseas for work. She wasn't. She'd invited Peter Cole—the first love she'd never gotten over—and his family to our apartment for dinner. I came home carrying Leo's urn, ready to confront her. Instead, she tossed my luggage into the hall. "We have guests, and we're out of rooms. Go stay somewhere else for a few days."

The day after I lose my babies, my husband, Colin Fraser, tries to make it up to me with money, like he always does. "What's it going to be this time?" he asks. "Jewelry, company shares, or that plot of land in Easton?" I simply shake my head and slide the document from my nightstand toward him. As casually as he's signed countless checks before, Colin signs it without even looking. When he glances up and sees how calm I am, he lets out a soft laugh. "I thought you'd ask me to stay and keep you company," he says, shaking his head. "After all these years, you're still so materialistic. Money is all you care about." My hand freezes for a moment as I reach for the signed document. Just then, my son, Simon Fraser, breaks the silence with his innocent voice. "Dad, you're only realizing that now? You gave Mom money when she had me. Now that my little siblings are gone, you're giving her money again. Ava is much better. She says love can't be bought with money." Ava's right. Love isn't something you can buy with money. And that is why this document isn't another business contract. It's a divorce agreement.

An hour before the registration deadline, I woke up with a start in my hotel bed in Escal. I realized that my boyfriend, Brannon Zimmer, and my adopted sister, Luna Hearn, were both gone. I quickly called them both to urge them to register right away. Instead, I was met with a burst of laughter on the other end. “We’ve flown back home already. We finished applying last night. Haven’t you applied yet?” In the background, I could hear my parents grumbling. “That’s just how she is. She’s so carefree and thoughtless that she doesn’t even pay attention to her own affairs. “Couldn’t she be more sensible like Luna?” It was a lively scene on the other end of the line, but I was shaking with panic. I had almost missed the deadline. After our test scores came out, the three of us had agreed to apply to the same university. Luna had been agonizing over her choice, while Brannon had looked at her with nothing but affection. “No rush. We’ll help you take your time choosing.” Then, he casually told me, “Just go with whatever we pick. Have a blast in Escal these next few days.” Just then, my phone vibrated. Brannon had sent me Southshire University’s application code. “Stop dawdling. The deadline’s almost up.” I stared at the application screen. My eyes stung with tears. My score had been about 120 points higher than theirs. It turned out that no one cared about the “sacrifice” I thought I was giving them. One second before the deadline, I clicked the “Apply” button and chose the one farthest from home, Attarport University. With three of us, it would have been too crowded. So, I stepped aside on my own.

My mom's dying of cancer, and her final wish is to see me settle down and start a family. I beg my girlfriend, Yvonne Hurst, and my childhood friend, Colin Lowell, to help me put on this act for Mom. After asking them 88 times, they finally agree to play along and help me fulfill her last wish. On the day of the wedding, Mom clings to the last of her strength, waiting until the very end for the bride and best man to arrive. But they never do. Instead, Colin posts a photo online. Yvonne's in her wedding dress, and Colin is dressed as the best man. The two of them stand beside a cake, beaming at the camera. "My best friend's getting married, and the bride went all the way across town to pick up a cake with me," his caption reads. A guy couldn't ask for a better girlfriend. He's one lucky man." The location tag leads to a popular bakery known for its cakes. I call Yvonne and demand to know what is going on. "Isn't this all supposed to be about fulfilling your mom's dying wish?" she asked, sounding casual, almost dismissive. "I thought I'd spend some time with Colin and help him relax. It'll make our performance more convincing later." Colin leans over and laughs. "Yeah, Nathan. We're just messing with you. We'll be back soon," he assures me. "Tell Ms. Brooks to wait a little longer." Only then do I understand that my desperate pleas and Mom's dying wish mean nothing to them. To them, it is all just a harmless joke. I stare at the heart monitor as its beeping flattens into one long, unbroken tone, tears blurring my vision. When this absurd little act finally comes to an end, I'm the only one left to bear the consequences. From this moment on, I'm going to let them go. And finally, I'll let myself move on.

In my fifth year of climbing the mountains to search for my wife's remains, I fell into an ice crevasse by accident. As the cold dragged me toward unconsciousness, I opened my phone to Maddie Paisley's silent, years-untouched messenger thread, meaning to record a final goodbye. Instead, a wedding invitation popped up on the screen. [Ten years of devotion, and at last we've found our happy ending. We warmly invite our friends and family to join us as we marry!] [Groom: Jace Lowe] [Bride: Maddie Paisley] The background photo was a wedding portrait. My foster brother held her against his chest, his smile bright and tender. After I was pulled off the mountain, I ignored my frostbitten legs and sprinted for the hotel like a madman. The moment I pushed through the doors, I froze in place. My sister, Ashlyn Lowe, who had begged me with red eyes just the night before to give up the search, was cheering as she pulled the cord on a confetti cannon. "Jace, you finally won Maddie over. If you ever wrong her, I swear I won't let you off easy!" Below the stage, my parents sat in their formal wear, eyes brimming with proud tears. A voice spoke up behind me. "What are you doing here?" I turned and saw my childhood friend. My hand trembled as I reached toward him, ready to pour out how absurd all of this was. Instead, he just sighed. "Ronnie, go home. Everyone's tired of playing along with this. "Maddie faked her death just to get away from you. Jace waited five years for her, and that wasn't easy either. "It's their wedding today. Don't force your way in and play the homewrecker. You'll only embarrass everyone." With that, he walked past me, smiling as he crossed to the stage and handed the newlyweds a huge bouquet of flowers. "Jace, Maddie, congratulations!" Streamers rained down over my head. As I listened to the emcee up on stage shout for the groom to kiss the bride, my tears fell without a sound. So this was it. During the five years I had spent desperately searching for Maddie, she had been in love with another man the whole time. Everyone had known. They had all just chosen to hide it from me.

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."

Mae Cooper accuses me of forcing wolfsbane down her throat, claiming that she can't breathe and that her wolf is gravely injured, barely clinging to life. My mate, Alpha Cole Grimaldi, and our two pups decide to teach me a lesson by locking my Omega sister up in a massive silver cage and threatening to douse her with wolfsbane. I thrash violently and beg them to let her go, but nothing I do changes their minds. Alas, my sister dies, and with her, the love I once felt for them dies too.

After his twin brother dies, my husband, Cassian Howell, starts supporting two households, splitting our family's money equally between them. Half goes to our daughter and me, and the other half goes to his late brother's widow, Esther Heaton, and her son, Noah Howell. He says he can't let his nephew grow up without a father figure. When our daughter, Anne Howell, graduates from elementary school, her teacher asks each student to contribute 50 dollars toward graduation photos. Cassian refuses at once, calling it an unnecessary expense. It's the same excuse he used the week before when I asked him for new undergarments. I call him. "I'll go without if I have to, but everyone in her class is getting graduation photos. Anne is the only one who hasn't paid." He sounds annoyed. "Faye, you know I have two households to support. We have to cut costs wherever we can." Before I can answer, he hangs up on me. Moments later, Esther posts a photo in our family group chat: a limited-edition children's camera and a brand-new designer bag. Her caption reads, "Thank you for the gifts, Cassian! I'm so grateful Noah has a father figure in his life, all thanks to you." I stare at the words "father figure" for a long moment before I finally understand. In Cassian's heart, Esther and her son are his real family. Anne and I are just outsiders he can afford to neglect.

After my wife, Shannon Stewart, suggests that we each support our own parents, I set up a million-dollar retirement fund for my dad. However, when I review this month's household expenses, I notice that every single payment is made for the father of Sean Gardner, her childhood friend. "Sean's family is struggling. Why wouldn't I help them out? It's not like it's a lot of money." Shannon brushes it off. There are 13 separate expenses of around 100 dollars each in a single month. Yet when my dad needs 300 for medical bills, she prints out the receipt and tells me to reimburse the household account. Tired of arguing, I toss the statement aside and head inside. Then my dad's condition suddenly worsens, and he's hospitalized again. I rush to the bank to withdraw money from the retirement fund. "Your father isn't the beneficiary of this fund," the bank employee states coldly. "Are you sure you have the right account?" My mind goes blank. How is that possible? Every cent in that account is my hard-earned cash. The employee impatiently turns the computer monitor toward me. The account name on the screen clearly reads, "James Gardner's Retirement Fund." James is Sean's dad.

After five years in captivity, I finally came home. Except there was already another daughter in my place, and somehow, Mom, Dad, and my brother, Samuel Lewis, had all developed strange "conditions." When I broke my ankle and texted Dad for help, he took forever to show up. "Sorry. My eyesight's been acting up lately. I couldn't make out the location you sent me." I was allergic to seafood, but Samuel brought me seafood chowder anyway. "Sorry. You know how bad my memory is. I forgot you couldn't eat it." One winter night, I came home without my keys and spent five hours locked outside before Mom finally opened the door in the middle of the night. "My hearing problems flared up again. I didn't hear you knocking." Desperate to fit into this family, I smiled and told them it was fine. Every single time. Until today, when my advisor gave me two choices. I could stay at my university and pursue my graduate degree there. Or I could join a highly classified research project across the country, where I'd live on a secure campus and wouldn't be allowed home for ten years. Holding both applications, I walked through the front door, intending to ask my family which one they thought I should choose. Then I saw Dad, whose eyesight was supposedly so bad, pick a single cat hair off Brie Lewis, my sister's collar, without even wearing his glasses. Mom, with her intermittent hearing loss, heard Brie give the slightest cough and immediately rushed to the kitchen to make her a hot drink with honey and pear. And Samuel, whose memory was supposedly terrible, sat at the piano playing a melody Brie had casually hummed a month ago. He didn't miss a single note. That was when I finally understood. Around Brie, all their conditions miraculously disappeared. And suddenly, I knew there was no reason to ask them anything. I tore up the application to stay at my university and texted my advisor: [I've made my decision. I'm joining the classified project.]

On my way home from picking wild berries in the woods, I see my mate, Ethan Volkov, feeding our pups roast chicken. His childhood sweetheart, Zoe Hathaway, is snuggling next to them. While chatting with Ethan about her experiences studying on the northern grasslands, she entertains the children. My five-year-old daughter is happily swinging her legs as she holds out a piece of roast chicken to Zoe, while My son carefully wipes the grease off Zoe's hands. Ethan never once looks away from Zoe. It is as if he only has eyes for her. Seeing my beloved mate and the pups I've tirelessly raised so attached to another she-wolf leaves me devastated. I draft a Bond Breaking Agreement, give up custody of the children, and leave. Pursue the herbal research career that I gave up for my family Yet later, the always calm and composed Ethan loses his composure. My daughter Katrina and my son James search everywhere for me, openly expressing their love and begging me to come home.

The day I win the cheerleading championship, the entire arena erupts with cheers for my team. But from the stands, my brother, Nelson Locke, hurls a water bottle straight at me. "You injured Felicia's leg before the performance just so you could win first place? She has leukemia, Victoria! Her dying wish is to become a champion. Yet you tripped her before the competition, all for a trophy! You're selfish. I don't have a sister like you!" My fiance, who also happens to be the sponsor of the competition, steps onto the stage with a cold expression and announces, "You tested positive for illegal substances. You don't deserve this title. You're disqualified." All the fans turn against me. They boycott me entirely—some even go so far as to create a fake memorial portrait of me, print it, and send it to my doorstep. I quietly keep the photo. I'll probably need it soon anyway. It's been three years since I was diagnosed with a malignant brain tumor. Knowing I don't have much time left, I choose to become the type of person they always wanted me to be—the perfect sister who loves without question, the well-mannered woman who knows when to keep quiet, and the kind of person who never, ever lies.

After five years away, Colin Winthrop, the impostor heir, was brought back to the Winthrop family. His parents ached over everything he had suffered out in the world, and Holly Ainsworth, who was engaged to the family's real son, had never let go of her old feelings for Colin. Everyone was waiting to see how that son, Graham Winthrop, would react. They expected tears, an argument, or a complete breakdown. Yet Graham only watched quietly as they carried the luggage in, and then he set up Colin's old room again. His parents broached the subject carefully. "Graham, Colin has always loved the sunlight in the master bedroom. Do you think you could—" "I'll take the guest room," Graham said, cutting them off in a calm, even voice. "I'll move my things out right now so Colin can have it." The next day, Holly invited him to dinner for his birthday, but he waited at the restaurant until 8:00 pm before she finally called. "I'm so sorry, Graham. Colin got lost at the mall, and I—" Graham stayed calm. "Okay. Go get him. I'll spend my birthday by myself." On the third day, Holly's checkup results came back. She was pregnant. Graham's parents and Holly all came to the same decision—the baby had to go.

The day my mother, Dahlia Moone, gives birth to my younger brother, she goes into obstructed labor and suffers a catastrophic hemorrhage. My CEO father, Graham Kovane, orders every doctor and nurse out of the delivery room because his mistress, Selena Langford, says, "Her crying is giving me a headache." That day, both Mom and my unborn brother die. Not long after, I'm framed for a mistake I never made, driven out of the family, and left to survive on the streets. Living on the kindness of strangers, I fight my way up from nothing. Step by step, I rise until I become the head of Rockstone Tech, controlling a fortune worth billions. On the day of the annual evaluation for promoting interns to full-time employees, five candidate files are placed on my desk. My assistant, Ingrid Nelson, taps the file at the top of the stack, her voice full of admiration. "Ms. Campbell, Monica Kovane is exceptionally capable. Her performance has earned full marks from every department manager." I open Monica's profile, and my eyes stop on the family information section. Even in the worst of times, I will never forget those two names on the paper. After a long silence, I tell Ingrid to bring all five interns into my office. The employment contracts are handed out one by one. When only the last person remains, I look up and meet her confident gaze. She's almost certain the position is already hers. Calmly, I slide a termination letter across the desk. "Unfortunately, Ms. Kovane, you didn't pass."

My younger sister, Zelda York, is a pretty little airhead. She's naive and always falling for other people's tricks. Frustrated by her lack of sense, Mom grabs her by the ear and lectures her again and again. "Lauren is smart. You should learn from her whenever you run into trouble." A light bulb goes off in Zelda's head. From then on, she becomes utterly devoted to me. She's convinced that whatever I have must be the best. When I'm eight, a severe allergic reaction leaves me fighting for my life. Just as I manage to pull out my allergy medication, she snatches it away. Right in front of me, she swallows every last pill and sticks out her tongue at me. "Lauren, don't think you can sneak off and enjoy the good stuff without me!" At eighteen, I experience my first crush and carefully write a confession letter to the most popular boy at school. The next day, Zelda slaps a photo of herself passionately kissing him in my face and gives me a cheeky wink. "Lauren, you have such good taste in men." At twenty-two, I work day and night conducting experiments and poring over data, finally earning a place in a PhD program. But on the eve of enrollment, I find myself locked inside the house. When Zelda calls, her laughter rings out like silver bells. "Lauren, the university you like is amazing! Everyone here is so brilliant. I'll definitely learn as much as I can from them!" At twenty-six, my parents throw a grand matchmaking event for me, giving me my pick of eligible bachelors. Zelda follows close behind me, her eyes darting around. She asks in a low voice, "Lauren, you have such a good eye for men. Who's your favorite here?"

Seven years into our marriage, Sawyer Sterling suddenly became the best dad in the world. He showed up at Piper's school every day to pick her up on time, remembered that she would not eat cilantro, and read her favorite fairy tales to her before bed. Piper had waited seven years for this day. She wore the hair clip Sawyer had given her and told everyone she met, "Daddy finally loves me, too. Not just Tatum." However, watching Piper smile, I could not bring myself to feel happy. For the past seven years, Sawyer had treated his first love's son like a prince. He attended Tatum's parent-teacher conferences, celebrated Tatum's birthdays, and never objected when the boy called him Daddy. When Tatum snatched Piper's toys, Sawyer made her apologize. When Piper was running a high fever, he rushed off to celebrate Tatum's birthday with him instead. He had even slapped her across the face for pushing Tatum. Then, one day, he took Piper by the hand and brought her to the hospital. "Be a good girl. It's just a quick checkup. It'll be over soon." That was when I learned that Juliet Valenti's son had leukemia. Sawyer crouched in front of Piper, trying to coax her into it. "If you save Tatum, I'll spend every day with you from now on." Piper burst into tears and curled up in my arms. "Mommy, I don't want Daddy to spend time with me anymore. Can I please skip the shots?" I held Piper close as the last of my hope finally faded. His sudden change of heart had never been about Piper at all. He had only been trying to save Juliet's son.

My twin sister, Rebecca Shaffer, was kidnapped while saving me. The trauma left her with a mental illness that made her lash out at everyone around her. The only person who could get close to her, the only one who could calm her down, was my husband, Ezekiel Roberts. For the sake of her recovery, my parents insisted that Rebecca move into the master bedroom of my newlywed home. Whenever Ezekiel and I were intimate, Rebecca would lose control and throw things at me. Then, Ezekiel would scoop her up in his arms and carry her into the bedroom, soothing her with gentle words. Everyone kept telling me the same thing. "If Rebecca hadn't tried to save you, she wouldn't be like this now. You owe her this much!" I had no response to that, so I gave in again and again. That was, until I accidentally overheard a conversation between Rebecca and my parents. "How much longer do I have to keep pretending to be crazy? I'm so sick of sneaking around like this!" My parents looked at her with sympathy in their eyes. Ezekiel gently caressed her stomach and said, "Don't worry. I won't let Rebecca or the baby suffer even a little bit. Once I have Maisie completely under my control, I'll make everything public." I clutched the pregnancy test report in my hand and let out a bitter laugh. From now on, they would not need to keep up their elaborate charade. I would leave on my own.