Multiple Identities Family Emotions-Kurzgeschichten & -Kurzromane

I was the last person you'd expect to find on Manhattan's Upper East Side. My parents, Grant and Helena Sinclair, were fashion royalty, and size zero was their religion. But I'd been overweight since childhood, and there was nothing they could do about it. By the time I was five, I weighed far more than other children my age and ate like a bottomless pit. My parents called me "Meatball" in disgust and shipped me off to live with my grandmother, Margaret Sinclair, on a farm deep in rural Texas. It wasn't until I won a full scholarship to Columbia that I finally earned the right to return to their New York penthouse. My father, a fashion mogul, took one look at me and frowned with disgust. "An XXXL hoodie, oversized sunglasses, and a black face mask. "You look like a walking trash bag. Are you too ashamed to show your face?" My mother, editor-in-chief of a Vogue-caliber fashion magazine, scoffed. "She probably saw Isabella with us at Paris Fashion Week and knew she'd look terrible standing next to her. "As if being fat weren't bad enough, she's got an awful personality, too." My sister, Isabella Sinclair, hurried over with feigned warmth and took my hand. "Your weight doesn't define you. There's no need to feel inferior to me." I was about to take off my mask, but my hand froze.

She coveted everything about me. My possessions, my experiences, and even my men. So one night, my mother pushed me into an older man's bedroom. The next day, she asked with a smug smile, "Nina, how was your night with the older guy?" I rubbed my sore waist, recalling his broad shoulders, long legs, and trim waist from the night before. I smiled as I answered her. "That fiancé of mine is all yours now. Just remember—I’ll be your Aunt-in-law in the future.”

After my sister stole my boyfriend 11 times, I decided to take action. I went out and found myself a fool to date, just to see if she'd still try to take him away. But I never expected that one day, my "foolish" boyfriend would stop being so dumb. In fact, he became a scoundrel.

I was the best healer in the world. The Alphas of every pack fought over me day and night. To escape that exhausting life for good, I faked my own death. Then I put on a pair of dark glasses and pretended to be completely blind. When the Silver Moon pack found me and brought me home, I thought I was in for the usual family drama: the biological daughter and the adopted one fighting over their parents' love. But my older adopted sister, Evelyn Howard, turned out to be sweet and kind. She learned Braille for me right away. My father, the Alpha, and my mother, Eleanor, were consumed by guilt and heartache over me. My seven older brothers, the backbone of the pack's defenses, guarded me as if I were the most precious thing in the world. I didn't have to save anyone. All I had to do was sit there quietly , play the part of a proper little blind girl, and do nothing. That all changed when eight packs joined forces to crush our family. William Carter, an Alpha and the Cedar pack's heir apparent, kicked in our front door with his wolf guards. "All Silver Moon territory is under our control. If your whole family isn't off this land by morning, I'll slaughter every last one of you. "As for the older sister and the little blind girl ... they stay. I'll lock them in my private cage as pets." I looked at my seven brothers. They had been beaten until they coughed up blood, yet they still shielded me with their bodies. Then I looked at my adopted sister, sobbing as she offered her life to save us all. I twirled my cane between my fingers and let out a slow sigh. Without the pack to protect me, how was I supposed to keep doing nothing? As my family watched in despair, I rose from the shadows and calmly took off my dark glasses. "William, go ask the Chief Elder something for me. "Three years ago in the Alps, I repaired his heart myself and injected a life-saving serum into it. How's it working out for him? "Tell him his three years are up today.And now I'm cutting him off."

The day after the new year, during a family gathering, my aunt sneered at me as I worked overtime, reviewing a proposal. "Why are you pretending to be so busy? It’s not like we don’t know you only make three thousand a month. Real money-makers are people like my daughter, a designer so successful she doesn’t even have time to come home!" I ignored her, but she directed her spoiled son to delete all my files while I was in the bathroom. My hands trembled with rage. "This proposal is due in ten minutes—if I don’t submit it, everything is ruined!" She scoffed dismissively. "He’s just a kid. What could he possibly know? Besides, your job isn’t even worth much. If you lose the files, you lose them. Worst case, you get fired." I chuckled coldly but said nothing. She had no idea it was the proposal her daughter had spent an entire month working on. And I was the client who held her daughter’s fate in my hands.