Familial Bond Revenge Short Stories & Novels

It was a full moon, and my mate, Alpha Ethan, bailed on our son's coming-of-age ceremony rehearsal. All because his Omega mistress, Scarlett, was in heat. Then, during the actual ceremony, our son Caleb was ambushed by a rival pack. By the time I heard the news, Caleb had been shot. He was dead, lying in a pool of his own blood. I knelt beside him, completely breaking down, when Ethan's voice, faking an apology, came through the mind link: "Sorry, Scarlett needs me. I'm sure Caleb can handle things. Just make sure Caleb gets some rest early, don't let him run around and mess up tomorrow's celebration." I looked at my son's broken body, my voice trembling, "He won't be running anywhere anymore." "Good," Ethan said, sounding pleased. "Scarlett's bloodline is purer. She's better suited to give the Stone Pack strong heirs. You should understand." I cut the link. After I committed my son's body to the flames, I found the secret ritual to break a mate bond and contacted a wolf I hadn't spoken to in a long, long time: "The protection wards on Stone Pack territory are down. You can make your move."

Six years ago, my sister and I fell for the same man, Edmund. But he only had eyes for Rosalie, the sweet, innocent type. With them, I was always the third wheel. They got married, of course. And on their wedding day, I overheard my parents whispering. "The company's strapped for cash," my father said. "What if we marry Corinne off to our business partner? That'd solve our problem..." This "partner" was over fifty and twice divorced. So I ran. I fled to Sicily with the only five thousand dollars to my name. I ran on pure bitterness. In four years, I brought dozens of small-time Sicilian crews to heel and forged my own family: Vexille. In another two, I came back to New York and quietly became the most powerful woman in the North American underworld. By then, Edmund's power was crumbling, hit hard by a rival family. That's when my mother called, her voice full of that same old entitlement. "Your brother-in-law's in some trouble. Figure out a way to help him." Then a text from my sister, Rosalie, dripping with contempt: "Sister, I remember you have a little casino in Sicily, right? So you must know something about that Vexille family." "Edmund needs their help. See what you can dig up." They still don't know. I'm the Don of the Vexille family. I glanced at the schedule my advisor had prepared. Tomorrow, 9:00 AM. A sit-down with some minor family looking for a handout. The name on the file: Edmund.

In my last life, I single-handedly wiped out a rival gang, winning great honor for the Family. My mother handed me control of her private arsenal, worth hundreds of millions. Before I could even take inventory, the convent orphan my family had adopted quietly changed the codes, and handed the entire shipment to homeless men in slums controlled by our enemies. Staring down my gun, she crossed herself, her face full of pity. "God tells us to love the world, Alessia. Sitting on all those instruments of murder is a sin. I am only atoning for you." I scoffed, but one second before I pulled the trigger, my childhood friend, the Family's top killer, shot the gun from my hand and denounced me as bloodthirsty, cruel, and incapable of empathy. My older brother, the new Don, only sneered and stripped me of my inheritance on the spot. He threw me into the lowest end of the red-light district to wash dishes until the violence had been ground out of me. That same night, addicts from the rival gang cornered me at the end of an alley, stabbed me more than twenty times, then dumped me into the Thames. I opened my eyes, and I was back on the day the orphan girl walked toward the arsenal with my key in her hand.

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.

After five years of being forcibly institutionalized in a mental hospital by my parents for “rehabilitation,” I awakened the “Slap System” skill. One slap, a million dollars deposited into my account. Another slap, my combat power skyrocketed. Just as I was thoroughly enjoying my slapping spree and preparing to leap over the asylum walls to break free, my parents suddenly arrived to take me home. The moment I stepped through the front door, I saw my adopted brother Atticus Hawthorne, eyes reddened, holding my fiancée, Cassandra Vaughn, in his arms. Meanwhile, my real brother Roman Montgomery was locked in a dog cage, bitten and torn by vicious hounds, covered in wounds, and breathing his last breath. The moment he saw me, a faint light flickered in his eyes. Using the last ounce of his strength, his lips trembled slightly. “Lysander... run…” Before the words could fully leave his mouth, his hand went limp and dropped. I smashed the dog cage open with everything I had, scooped up his still-warm body, and rushed outside like a madman. “Stop right there!” Cold-faced, my parents blocked the doorway. “Roman is pure evil. He tortured Atticus’s dog to death and drugged Cassandra. Suffering a little punishment like this is light for him! Why take him to a hospital over a tiny injury?” Atticus fell to his knees before me with a loud thud, tears streaming down his face. “Lysander, after five years, you still hate me this much... I’ll go die right now so I don’t stay in your sight…” Cassandra immediately shielded him behind her back, harshly berating me. “Lysander! The moment you return, you force Atticus to die! You should never have been released from the mental hospital!” I looked at their hypocritical, evil faces, then down at Roman’s closed eyes that would never open again, and slowly raised my hand. Bullying me? I could bear it. But torturing Roman to death... I was going to make them find out whether their bones were tougher, or my slaps were harder.

I grew up fatherless, clawing my way through the Chicago underbelly with my mom. She always said he loved us. That he just had to go far, far away. Until she got terminally ill. I dropped out of design school and rushed back, ready to drain our life savings to treat her. But she put a pair of scissors to her own throat. She told me not to touch the cash. It was the only thing she had to leave me. I pretended to agree. But the second I turned around, I took our fifty grand and ran to Mr. Sal, the neighborhood's back-alley doctor. I begged him to save her. "Fifty grand? This buys her three months. Tops." He lit a cigarette. Through the smoke, his eyes bored into me. Like he was looking at a ghost. "Your mother... she was once the brightest jewel in Chicago. Gave it all up for a man. That man took her money and became the city's real estate king. He's Mob-connected. Maybe you should go ask him for help." I took that poison home with me. And I didn't breathe a word. When she found out I spent the money, she held me and cried. "My foolish girl, why are you so stubborn? I'm dying anyway. What about your school? How will you pay for it?" But while I took care of her, I tore through all her old things, looking for proof of that bastard's betrayal. On the night of his empire's 20th-anniversary gala, I crashed his party. I brought two things: a blood-stained marriage certificate, and a lawyer. "I'm looking for Nico Russo. He can either honor a twenty-year-old marriage... or he can sign these divorce papers."

"Your brother's gone to Korea. Make sure you send him an extra $300 next month for his loan repayment." I was swamped at my desk when I received that text. My mind went blank. I asked Dad how much my brother had borrowed, and he casually replied: "The surgery costs $83,000, but you only have $75,000 in your bank account, so we took out an $8,000 loan for two years." Seeing my brother's selfie from a luxury hospital room in Seoul, posted on his social media, a chill ran through me. That was my life savings, scraped together by selling my car and pulling all-nighters for three months! Perhaps sensing my emotion, my father sent another text: "Put off your treatment for now. Once your brother becomes handsome, he can snag a rich woman, and then you'll have all the money you need for treatment." Without another word, I immediately called the bank to report the loss and filed a police report for theft. My bank account was instantly frozen. Within days, my brother, who was kicked off the operating table because the payment couldn't go through, called me and begged. His face half-stitched, he was on the verge of a breakdown.

The moment I was pushed into the river by my six stepbrothers and drowned there, I was still clutching a piece of candy my mom had given me. When I open my eyes again, I curl up in my swaddle as a one-month-old baby. That's when I notice six children glaring at me darkly with their hands outstretched, ready to strangle me. As I stare at them, I begin cursing them out mentally. "Just you wait till the day I can speak, you bastards!" My mom rushes out of the kitchen instantly. "It's a rare occasion for me to cook for the family, so I told you to keep an eye on your baby sister. Why are you cursing all of a sudden?" The brothers swap glances with each other in confusion. The oldest brother, Alex Finch, scratches his head. "You must be hearing things, Mom. We were about to play with Meadow. No one was speaking just now." Upon hearing Alex's shameless words, I continue cursing him out silently. "You're the most shameless bastard I've ever seen! When I'm three years old, you'll plot to sell me to an old single man in the countryside! Screw you!" Mom's hands tremble slightly at that moment. She quickly picks me up, her eyes as wide as saucers. I flash a toothless grin at her in return. "Don't be scared, Mom. This time, I'll definitely protect you!" Watch as I, a one-month-old baby, send my bastard of a father as well as the six ungrateful brats to prison!

For Children's Day, I help source and purchase gifts for my son's class. I not only keep the budget to a minimum, but I also manage to get expensive toys that are way over budget for them. During checkout, because my son, Harry Chandler, has grabbed a limited edition toy robot, the PTA representative, Darren Larson, shouts at me, "Jordan Chandler, are you trying to tell me that you didn't embezzle the class funds for that 500-dollar toy robot?" The class teacher, Kevin Brown, and the manager of the toy store, Florence Young, immediately pause in their footsteps. I feel dozens of pairs of eyes staring at me in the mall. Darren complains animatedly, "You were trying to pay for that 500-dollar toy with the class funds, basically using everyone's money to spoil your son, weren't you? "Both Mr. Brown and the manager are right here, but you still dare to pocket our money? I can't imagine how much of the class funds you must've used to line your own pockets behind our backs! I daresay, for someone with no morals like you, the children you raise will be thieves in the future too!" Darren glares maliciously at me, looking me up and down. Even Kevin is giving me a look of suspicion and disdain. Instead of arguing with him, I turn to the cashier and ask in a calm tone, "My family owns this mall. Do I need to pay for a toy I just grabbed off the shelf?"

During the heatwave apocalypse, I didn't die due to the heat, nor did I die in a conflict. My younger sister, Amber Carter, has a "heart of gold" by nature. She couldn't bear to see the people suffering in the apocalypse, so she gave away all the food in our cellar. After we ran out of food, Amber forced me to go look for food outside in the heat. That was how I died—from the heat outside. In this lifetime, I'm going to enjoy my ice-cold watermelon while watching Amber dig her grave with her own hands.

My younger sister Avery Denning's fiance, Timothy Lane, is injured by a raging bull on the eve of their wedding. Timothy ends up impotent because of the incident. Refusing to marry an impotent man, Avery flees from the wedding. I gaze at Timothy, abandoned, along with my humiliated parents. My parents then beg me to marry Timothy instead, to which I agree. Since marrying Timothy, I've shouldered the burden of juggling household chores and outside work, working tirelessly from morning till night. He miraculously recovers from his impotence and even becomes the wealthiest man in town. But Avery suddenly returns on the day Timothy is officially announced as the wealthiest man in Greenwood Vale. She sobs as she explains that she didn't flee the wedding of her own will. Instead, Avery claims that I had tricked her into going into the mountains to search for a miraculous berry that could cure Timothy's impotence. She also claims that I had struck her unconscious on said mountain range. Timothy immediately believes Avery's lies. He angrily slaps me and even tosses me into a river to drown. My words fall on deaf ears, and I swiftly pull Timothy and Avery down into the river with me. When I next wake up, I am back to the day of my wedding to Timothy. This time, Avery shows up, too. But what they don't know is that without me, Timothy will never recover from his impotence nor become the wealthiest man in Greenwood Vale.

My brother died, so my parents forced me to undergo plastic surgery to look exactly like him and live his life in his place. "Your brother was a genius. You can't just leave his fiancée and research project behind. You have to take over." "You've accomplished nothing with your life anyway. Getting to live his life is a lucky break for you." They seemed to have forgotten that I had my own name and that I had a life of my own. My identity records were canceled, and my parents acted as though they had every right to do it. "If you really care about our family, then you should understand why we're doing this." "We're doing this for your own good. Don't be so ungrateful." Everyone thought I would break down and run away. Instead, I smiled. "He was a genius? Fine. I will take his place." I later signed a high-stakes wager agreement with his former rival and even carried out increasingly reckless experiments in his name whilst wearing his face. "Don't go too far. You'll destroy our family…" I looked at them calmly. "I see." I tightened my grip on the letters my brother had left behind before quietly feeding them into the shredder.

It's Family Day at my daughter, Hannah Neel's, preschool, but my wife, Samantha Miller, says she has to work and tells both Hannah and me not to go. Seeing the disappointment on Hannah's face breaks my heart, so I bring her to school anyway. As soon as we step through the gates, I see Samantha. She's holding her childhood friend—Oscar Barnett's—hand, with a little boy clutching her other. The three of them look like a perfect family, laughing and chatting, as if they belong together. When Samantha sees us, her smile fades, and she lets go of Oscar's hand. "Zach, it's not what you think. Oscar's raising his son alone. Today's his fifth birthday, and he just wanted to give him a little taste of a mother's love," she says quickly. I study her for a moment, then kneel and gently take Hannah's hand in mine. "Sweetheart, say hello to the lady."

On the day of my daughter Eleanor Baldwin's second birthday party, my entire family stood nervously by the banquet hall entrance. They were not there to greet guests, but rather to keep me from showing up and causing a scene. Mom's face was written all over with anxiety. "Lucas wouldn't actually crash the party, would he?" Dad's brow stayed tightly furrowed. "Who knows? That disgrace of a son is capable of anything." My younger brother, Cody Baldwin, had his arm wrapped gently around my wife, Kendra Clarkson, trying to reassure her. "Don't worry. If Lucas dares to show up, I'll keep you and Ellie safe." Kendra nodded slowly. "If it really comes to that... maybe we should just let Ellie be his goddaughter. At least then, we're still family..." However, the party came and went, and I never appeared. I had already made up my mind to join a classified national defense research program. Only this time, it was for good.

I had spent fifteen years in Rathai’s jade trade. Tonight was another routine trip to a private auction to pick up stock. On the outside, these auctions moved jade, but behind closed doors, they sometimes moved people. I had just walked into the back when I spotted a teenager huddled in the corner, covered head to toe in bruises and welts. He looked up at me with desperate eyes. A second later, lines of text floated across my vision. [This is Arden Carlisle, the fake son of the Carlisle family in Harstead!] [The real Carlisle son framed him, and his own sister shipped him out here to 'teach him a lesson'.] [It's awful. He's been shocked, whipped, and beaten. Now, they're about to strip him and put him on the block.] [The real Carlisle son and his people are in the auction hall right now, waiting to watch him get humiliated.] I lived by one simple rule. If it was not my problem, I would not get involved. I turned to leave. However, another line then appeared. [Oh my God! The jade dealer is his biological father!]

The tenth time one of my paintings appeared under my sister Rose's name, I handed Adrian the divorce papers. He raised an eyebrow and tossed the agreement aside without a second glance. "Don't be dramatic. Your hand is ruined -- where would you even go without me?" I said nothing. He smiled, his tone dripping with casual indifference. "You should be grateful. Rose was the one I was supposed to marry. A few paintings is a small price to pay. A little gratitude wouldn't kill you." He blew a ring of cigarette smoke directly into my face. I choked, and the sting brought tears to my eyes. Through the blur, I was transported back to the moment my tendons were severed for his sake -- a pain that had drilled straight to the bone. He thought I had no choice but to take it. What he didn't know was that I'd already accepted an offer from the Royal Academy of Arts in London. Soon, I would be free of him for good.

I am an orphan who was adopted, yet I live like a king in my house. While my older brother, Eric Jones, sleeps in the attic, which is freezing in the winter and sweltering in the summer, I get the nicest bedroom, the south-facing one with the best sunlight. Eric wears worn-out clothes from the flea market, the kind sold by the pound. As for me, I get new clothes from the mall every year. Some still have the tags on. Eric starts working at a construction site right after high school. As he works three shifts a day, his hands are covered in calluses. I, on the other hand, attend the best private high school in the city, where one year's tuition costs as much as two years of his wages. My adoptive mother, Dolores Bender, looks over my straight-A report card, wipes away her tears, and says, "Even if I have to sell everything we own, I'm putting you through college." Whenever relatives come over, they tell me how lucky I am to have been taken in by the kindest family on earth. That's what I've always believed, too, right up until Thanksgiving, when Eric had too much to drink.

Nine years after my hands were burned beyond restoration, I woke in the middle of the night with pain shooting through my fingers. I lay there, barely able to move, when I heard my mother talking on the phone in the living room. "Hey, you've had a hard time too. You've been taking care of him all these years. He was such a gifted pianist, and now look at what he's become…" My mother let out a quiet laugh. "A hard time? You have no idea how long I've been waiting for this day." There was a long silence on the other end of the line. Then she continued, "I was the one who hid his passport. And I was the one who started the fire." The voice on the other end went silent. "I only meant to make him miss his flight. I never thought the fire would get out of control. I never meant for him to end up like this." After a pause, I heard my aunt's faint voice. "But his hands…" My mother was silent for two seconds. When she spoke again, her voice was colder than before. "Maybe it's better this way. With his hands ruined, he can't play the piano. He can't go abroad. He can't leave me here all by myself. "All these years, he's had to rely on me for everything, even eating and getting dressed. Don't you think he'll be grateful to me for taking care of him?" I lay completely still in bed, my ten twisted fingers throbbing as if the flames were licking at them all over again. So that was the truth. I had not been trapped in this house for nine years because life had dealt me a cruel hand. My own mother had burned my future to the ground with her own hands. Lying there in the darkness, I kept thinking about all the possibilities. What if I had not rushed back when that phone call came the night before my flight? What if the fire had never taken my hands? What would my life have looked like? Then I opened my eyes again. I had returned to the day I received my visa.

In my previous life, my younger sister, Amy Lockwood, was sexually assaulted. When I wanted to file a police report, she adamantly refused to let me do so. She even stroked her belly lovingly and said something that blew my mind. "H-He was drunk. He didn't mean to do it. What if his life gets ruined because you reported him to the police? You shouldn't be so heartless!" Later on, Amy poisoned my food and nearly killed me just so she could run off with her assailant. However, my mother kept telling me not to hold it against her. This time around, I decide to be as heartless as I can possibly be.

By the fifth year of my marriage to James Hill, he began pretending to be his late twin brother, the late Don of the family. With that, he took over all of a Don’s duties and the role of my sister-in-law, Hilary’s husband. Every time after he slept with her, he would cut his arm open, kneel before me, and beg for forgiveness. “Pia, you’re the only woman I’ve ever loved. Once Hilary gives birth to the heir and secures her position, I’ll fake my death and come back for you.” He told me his twin brother had died saving him, so he had to fulfill his brother’s last wish. During the year he pretended to be his brother, James slept with Hilary ninety-nine times. After a full year, Hilary finally gave birth to the family’s heir. I truly believed James would fake his death as promised, then take our son and me away from this bloody life. However, I saw him with Hilary in his arms, teasing the tiny baby she carried. “Hilary, I’ll stay with you and our child until he’s ready to take over as the next Don.” Silently, I wiped my tears and went back to my room to pack my suitcase. My son saw me crying and ran into my arms, gently wiping away my tears with his little hands. “Ma, Aunt Hilary already had her baby. Why isn’t Papa coming home yet?” I placed my clothes into the suitcase as I told him softly, “Because he doesn’t want us anymore. But don’t be sad, sweetheart. I will build us a home.” If James wanted to raise an heir, then I would return to North Atlantis’s most powerful mafia family, take my rightful place as my father’s heir, and become the Godmother of the Mafia.