Familial Bond Revenge 短篇故事與小說

Two months after I stepped down as Boss, my eldest son Gideon pressed a barrel to the back of my head. I put him in that chair with my own hands. "Mom. An eighty-million-dollar shipment went down. The Five Families want blood." My adopted daughter Alessia stood beside him, sobbing fake tears. She ran the books. "Mom, Gideon just took the seat. He can't have a stain like this. You're retired anyway. Do this for us, one last time." Such devoted children. I signed the exile contract. In return, I got five million in hush money and an order to get the hell out of Chicago. Then the enforcers from the High Commission slammed a ledger onto the table. It was my younger son, Silas. The one who ran the docks. He sold out the route and laundered the payout with our South American rivals. I thought the circus was over. My sweet little girl wiped her tears in a second. She shoved the papers against my chest, cold as stone. "The streets already think it's you, so just die for us. We have pure Mafia blood in our veins. We can't let our future burn." Right then, I laughed out loud. These ungrateful mutts really thought they carried royal Sicilian blood. They took twenty years of my mercy and treated it like dirt under their shoes. They had no idea. They were just street rats I pulled out of slum dumpsters. Now they want me to take the bullet? When I built this empire on dead bodies and became the only female Boss in the Great Lakes, their little hands couldn't even hold a gun without shaking.

Every day, my son and husband finish all the house chores before I even get home. But only because they're bringing my husband's first love, Sally Sullivan, back for Thanksgiving, I pour boiling water on my son's face. I also kick both my son and husband out when it's 104°F outside. Desperate to save our son, my husband sprawls across the front porch, begging me to open the door. "Wanda, open the door! We need to save our son! I only invited Sally over because she saved you once back then. I didn't mean anything else by it!" "Mom, it hurts!" my son cries. "Mom, can't you kiss me? Mom…" Meanwhile, I'm slouching on the couch, snacking away as I watch TV. In the end, my husband can't take it anymore and brings me to the Bad Mom Court for trial. The moment my memories are extracted, the entire court bursts into tears.

I opened a restaurant in an alley, and business was booming. When the lease expired, I took the initiative to talk to the landlord about renewing it. The landlord, Jasper Smith, crossed his legs and said, “My dear Flynn, my dear little nephew Harvey Jordan, wants to open a restaurant too. So, this place would be perfect for him. “He thinks your food is delicious, so he went out of his way to learn all the recipes for your dishes and soups. Come to think of it, he has you to thank for your careful guidance!” The blood rushed to my head. Harvey Jordan had kept his relationship with Jasper from me and worked at my restaurant for half a year. He had stolen my recipes, and he was trying to kick me out to steal my customers? I was furious. “Mr. Smith, isn’t this going a bit too far?” Jasper slammed his hand on the table. “The shop lot is mine. I’m free to rent it to whomever I want! Clear everything out before the lease expires!” I laughed through gritted teeth. “Are you sure you want to go down this road?” I had a secret blend of spices that I had never shared with anyone. Without it, my soups would become increasingly bitter the longer they boiled. Harvey had only learned some surface knowledge. He had yet to grasp the soul of it. I was interested to see how he would manage running a restaurant without its soul.

My five-year-old daughter loved telling lies. I had taken her out to a simple school supplies run, but she yelled on the street that I was a human trafficker. Consequently, I nearly got arrested and taken to the police station. When we went home, she cried and threw herself in my husband’s arms to complain about me before I could say anything. “Dad, Mom wouldn’t buy me stationeries. She even hit me on the street!” I offered my husband an explanation. He heard me out, but I did not expect him to angrily slap me when I was finished. “Our daughter is only five. She can’t lie. Can’t you just put up with it?!” When I drove my daughter to school, she got down on her knees in front of me while the other parents were around. “Mom, please let me go to school. I don’t want to take naked photos for those guys.” When the teacher checked my phone, it was full of my daughter’s explicit photos. A mob of angry parents pushed me into the traffic, killing me. I could not figure out why my biological daughter would behave that way, even as I lay dying. When I opened my eyes again, I had returned to the day when I was about to buy stationery for my daughter.

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."

The Moretti Family raised a stable of orphans to be its next heir. I was one of them. But in every test, I always came out second best. Lucia always came out on top. Then, just before the bid that would decide the heir, I was bound to a Switching System. Comments scrolled past my eyes: [Oh, it's over. The villainess has always been jealous of the main character, Lucia, for getting first place. She’s definitely using the system to swap their proposals!] [Good thing Lucia can hear Olivia’s conversation with the system. She’s already planning to hand in a blank sheet of paper.] [So what if the villainess schemes all she wants? All she’ll get is a blank page! In the end, Lucia will inherit the Moretti Family and become the new Don! So satisfying!] Just then, the system prompted: [Please designate your switch target.] Without a second's hesitation, I thought, "Lucia." The moment I did, I saw Lucia shoot me a strange, triumphant look. I knew then. She'd heard everything. But she had no idea. I wasn't swapping her proposal. I was taking what was most precious to her.

On the way to the hospital in my daughter's car, my legs felt cramped, so I adjusted the angle of the passenger seat. A second later, I heard a soft snap from beneath the seat. A toothpick had broken. I jumped in fright as my daughter, Marissa Langford, slammed on the brakes, her face turning pale. "Why would you touch that? Tyler set that seat to a specific position on purpose. He uses it to check whether another man has been sitting in the passenger seat. How am I supposed to explain this now?" Realizing I'd caused trouble for her marriage, I immediately sent Tyler Ashford, my son-in-law, an apology. Hours passed without a reply. Eventually, all I received was a cold laughing emoji. Thinking Tyler was upset, I bought two expensive bottles of wine and personally went over to smooth things over. However, when Marissa opened the car door, I finally saw what was covering the passenger seat. It was a custom seat cover. Embroidered across it in glaring letters were the words: "Tyler's Exclusive Seat. No Old Bastards or Dogs Allowed". My vision went black with rage. Seeing me standing there without moving, Marissa frowned impatiently. "Tyler's just immature. Are you really going to be this petty and hold it against him?" I laughed. "You're right. I am petty. That's why the $20,000 I give you every month ends today. From now on, you're on your own."

The day Victor Moretti told me he was the Sicilian Don's heir, he also handed me a bill for everything he had spent on me over the years. "Elena, the Family will never let a woman who came to me for money become its next Donna." He pushed the ledger across the table to me. From the hot dogs we shared when we first got together to the condoms we used the first time we slept together. From the mattress-cleaning bill he had fronted to the hospital bill for my miscarriage. Thirty-seven thousand five hundred dollars in total. Every single item, down to the cent. I looked at the man I had loved for five years, swallowed the taste of blood rising in my throat, and kept my voice low. "I have to settle my mother's surgery bill first. I'll pay you back next month." Victor frowned at once. "Camilla was right about you. Women who come from nothing, like you, always have an excuse. I should have listened to her. I never should have broken the rules and gotten involved with you at all. Fine. One month. But you'll pay the same interest rate the Family charges its borrowers." I gritted my teeth but didn't argue. I silently accepted the condition. But the hospital's billing desk had another shock waiting for me. A clerk told me the balance in my account was down to one dollar. The hundred and fifty thousand I had scraped together from every corner of my life to save her was gone. Shaking all over, I called Victor. His tone was as condescending as ever. "I hacked into your account. Camilla Marchetti wanted an antique jeweled necklace, and she was a hundred and fifty thousand dollars short." "It comes to more than what you owe me. Consider the difference payment for the damage you did to my Family's name." With two casual sentences, he had turned my mother's life into a bauble at the throat of a mafia boss's daughter. The call ended. Then a nurse behind me said, "Miss Hayes... you don't need to pay. Your mother... she just took her own life... She said she didn't want to be a bur

On the day my parents file for bankruptcy, my adopted brother and fake heir, Oliver Bilson, is also diagnosed with leukemia. To earn enough money to pay his medical bills, I brave the snow and winds and continue working even on New Year's Eve. When I hand over the food delivery to the scion, Charlie Jetton, he suddenly knocks the cake over. "Why weren't you more careful when making the delivery?" he demands. "Don't you know that Mr. Bilson spent a million dollars to specifically order this cake for Olly?" I'm about to make a retort when I hear three voices that I'm intimately familiar with coming from within the warm villa. "It's okay. It's the thought that counts, Mom and Dad." The voice belongs to none other than Oliver! Dad, who claims that our family has gone bankrupt and is saddled with a mountain of debt, proudly says, "You're so mature, Olly. I'm going to give you an island to reward you!" Mom, who has always been frugal, gently adds, "My one and only, precious son is so understanding. I'll give you my golf club in Masonila, so don't be angry, alright?" My phone chimes just as the cake lands next to my feet, informing me that I have received a bad review. Later, I cut ties with them and leave with my advisor, Richard Dyer. However, when Mom and Dad find out that I'm leaving, they fall to their knees and frantically beg me to stay as if they have completely lost their minds.

My grandfather, Daniel Collins, is a thief. He steals my grandmother's name, Elise Caldwell, along with her identity as a volunteer from the city. Then he uses it to escape from the remote backcountry with another woman. Years later, he becomes a law professor, standing at the front of a classroom and lecturing his students about justice. The woman he runs away with becomes a renowned painter, appearing on television to speak about integrity, morality, and principles. Meanwhile, my grandmother is left behind in that remote backcountry for the rest of her life. Everyone around her brands her a "slut" and shames her for something she has never done. She dies without ever reclaiming her name, her identity, or the life that has been stolen from her. 50 years have passed. With the sacrifices my grandmother and mother make for me, I eventually escape the remote backcountry where they spend their lives and build a future of my own. I work my way up until I become a partner at one of the country's most prestigious law firms. During graduation season, I serve as one of the firm's lead interviewers, sitting across from a room full of ambitious young candidates hoping to land their first position at the firm. One applicant in particular catches my attention. She is poised and polished, and she has graduated at the top of her class from one of the country's most prestigious universities, where she studied law and political science. I open her résumé and read through it carefully, page by page, until I reach the section listing her family information. Then I stop. My eyes settle on one name and stay there for a long moment. Finally, I look up at her. My expression gives nothing away as I quietly close the résumé and announce, "I'm sorry, but we're not taking you as the intern."

On my 24th birthday, an app suddenly appears on all the other digital devices in my family except my phone. The one inside that app is another version of me, another Cordelia Winchester. But she's so much better at everything than I am. Mom's bakery has been in the red for three years. "Cordelia" casually tweaks one recipe, and the cakes sell out that same day. Dad has failed to earn his promotion three times. "Cordelia" revises his presentation, and the very next day, his boss grants his promotion. My fiance, Chase Jensen's company is about to run out of cash. "Cordelia" spends ten minutes reworking his pitch deck, and the investors immediately put in another 20 million dollars. From then on, Mom starts asking her how to develop every new dessert. Dad prints out screenshots of everything she says. Even when Chase chooses an engagement ring, he asks her opinion first. On my 25th birthday, before we even cut the cake, Mom suddenly stares at the app and asks, "Does she really have to stay inside the phone?" Dad lowers his voice. "Is there any way to bring her here for real?" Chase taps open customer support. [Apply for a parallel-life exchange?] Customer support replies, [After the exchange, the Cordelia from your world will be sent to the other world. Confirm exchange?] They barely hesitate. I watch as they hit "confirm", my nails digging into my palms and drawing blood. I force a strained smile. "Since you guys adore her so much, I hope you don't regret this." The next second, a red line of notification appears on the screen. [Exchange sequence initiated. Countdown: 7 days.]

My family and I have gone on a vacation to an island on All Hallows' Eve. Alas, that's where we get trapped by a flood as well. The tour guide claims that someone among us has committed many misdeeds, resulting in the flood. That person's antics have offended some malicious spirits, it seems. As long as the sinful culprit is thrown into the water and drowned, everyone else can leave the island safe and sound. "Here's a piece of information for you—the offenders are a family of seven. As long as all seven of them are dead, the rest of you get to survive." My heart goes tense at the tour guide's words. My family consists of seven people! Are we supposed to get annihilated on this island? "That's bullshit! How is the flood related to malicious spirits?" "Floods are caused by natural disasters! How are they related to people?"

After I was abducted at six and forced into the largest theft ring on the East Coast, I learned one thing. Anyone who comes at me gets it right back. At eight, a trainer had it in for me, so I slipped a diamond ring into his coat pocket. He ended up with three broken ribs. At twelve, someone took the money I had spent six months saving, so I took everything he had. At sixteen, I escaped that place. Four years later, the Vail Group was the largest conglomerate on the East Coast. That same year, Vail bought out the theft ring that had taken me, and everyone on the East Coast started wondering who Vail's chairman was. Then my birth parents, who headed the Whitmore family, found me through a DNA match and planned to acknowledge me as their daughter at a family dinner. I wore a faded old coat to the dinner on purpose. I wanted to know whether they would still want me if I had nothing. At dinner, my father announced who I was and said I would marry the head of the Ross family. Celeste, their adopted daughter, linked arms with my mother. "A beggar like her gets to marry into the Ross family. She should be grateful." Everyone around us smiled at me. I looked up at them. "If it's such a good match, why don't you marry the eighty-two-year-old gangster yourself?" That stopped Celeste. It clearly hadn't occurred to her that I would answer back. I smiled again. "Besides, the Ross family was finished anyway. I bought them out last month."

The Hollis twins were prodigies. They never needed sedatives to keep their wolves under control during full-moon trials, because they had me. I was 19, and I still hadn't shifted. My parents said I had a weak heart, that I couldn't stop taking my medication or leave the house during a full moon. But whenever the twins trained under a full moon, my mother rolled up my sleeve and connected a collection tube to the machine. By the time I was too dizzy to stand, Jace and Skye Hollis were already back in front of the cameras, acting as if nothing had happened. When I was seven, Jace went into a frenzy and bit straight through my arm. My mother stitched up the wound, gave me a piece of candy, and said next time she'd protect me first. When I was 13, Skye's claws tore open my back. My father praised me for being so understanding and promised that once I shifted, he'd take me up into the mountains to run all night. I held on to those promises and waited six years. At 19, I'd passed the admissions interview at an out-of-state university. My application was in, but my father still hadn't signed my out-of-territory clearance, and my family hadn't agreed to cover my first year of tuition. He kept telling me to wait one more week, until the twins' coming-of-age trial was over. He wrote the promise on the back of a treatment consent form but left out the date and tuition amount. This time, I didn't just nod along. I told him to put the terms in writing: one more bag of blood, then the day after the trial, he would return my documents and sign my out-of-territory clearance. My father looked at me as if he'd only just realized a bag of blood could be leverage. And he had no idea that two labels with my name on them were already hidden under the insole of my shoe. Seven days before the full moon, I was back in the blood-draw chair at our family clinic.

When the Russo family—the most notorious mafia empire in America—brought me, their long-lost true blood, back to the estate, I set three rules: One: Don't compare me to Chloe, the perfect adopted daughter. Two: Don't give her my things as charity, and don't dump her hand-me-downs on me. Three: Stay out of my private life. The man she was supposed to marry is hers. Our father—the Don—agreed. Chloe and I barely kept a fake peace. But when the marriage alliance came up, the rules went out the window. Her fiancé Marcello chose me—a street-wild girl covered in motor oil. My father was furious. My mother, bitter. My oldest brother, the Underboss, looked at me with pure disgust. Chloe was convinced I seduced her fiancé in bed. But God as my witness, I never touched him. I stormed into his private cigar club, demanding he clear things up. Marcello blew out a puff of smoke and sneered. "The Vitiello family's marriage pact was always with the true Russo blood. We have no intention of taking a fake." As he said it, his sharp dark eyes slid toward a trembling Chloe. A cruel, almost sick thrill flashed in them. It took me a long time to get it. He had too much wildness in his bones to marry a smiling puppet. And I—a foul-mouthed, reckless street girl—became his perfect pawn to rebel against his entire family. I was forced to become Marcello's wife. Three years later, he got bored. He threw a divorce agreement in my face. Filled with my unbearable "sins": "Too stubborn. Zero feminine, in bed or out." "Always showing your face at that biker shop. A disgrace. Unfit for the title of Donna." I stared at him. I remembered why he dumped Chloe—he hated her submissive elegance. Now, what he hated most was that I wasn't submissive, and I wasn't elegant. I flicked the ash from my cigarette and said, dead calm: "Fine. I'll sign."

The Fletcher family, known as the most prestigious and wealthiest family in Baymouth, has hosted a musical banquet. That event is actually a cover-up for blind dates between the rich and the elite. My younger sister, Evelyn Burch, and I are on the guest list. The banquet is filled with strict rules. Every socialite is required to wear a mask before they take turns entering the banquet hall just to put on a performance. In my previous life, Evelyn couldn't hold her jealousy back simply because I had stayed in the banquet hall for almost 20 minutes. Right after I came out, she worked with a music professor and accused me of plagiarizing her musical scores. I couldn't even defend myself when I saw two copies of the identical music scores. My parents refused to listen to my explanation. They were quick to pin the blame on me just so they could protect Evelyn's innocence. Heck, they even admitted me into a mental asylum by force and allow the staff to torture me there. I finally managed to escape, only to die in a car accident that was staged by Evelyn. Only when I took my last breath did I find out that the blood worthed even less than one of Evelyn's lies. When I open my eyes again, I realize that I've gotten reborn. So, I start playing games on my phone when it's my turn to perform on the stage. This time, I want to see how Evelyn can accuse me for cheating when I never even get to hold a musical instrument in this lifetime.

The Volkovs. The most brutal family in Russia. Their Don was holding our arms deal hostage. He wanted the De Luca princess. Isla. My adopted sister. I was their biological daughter. The blood heir they found in the slums twenty years too late. But Isla was the one they actually loved. The news broke. My mother walked into my room for the first time in forever. “Aurora, my best girl. You know how fragile Isla is. If she marries him… that man will break her. He’ll kill her.” My fiancé, Julian Caldwell, heir to the Caldwell family, made me a candlelit dinner. He held me, kissing me softly. “You’re so much stronger than her, Aurora. Please. Do this for her. I’ll give you a private wedding. Just us. Even if I can’t marry you for real, you’ll always be my wife.” Even my father—a man who never smiled at me, the Don of the De Luca family—actually slid a blank check across the desk. “Take her place instead of Isla. Name your price. Anything you want.” They were so sure I’d say yes. Because I’d always been that pathetic girl. Desperate for their approval. Willing to do anything. But not this time. I was done. I looked at the blank check and laughed. “A blank check? Not even close. I want one hundred million dollars. And a blood contract that cuts all ties. Forever.” They had no idea. I wanted more than that. In seven days, I was going to give them a gift. I wanted their lives.

My older sister was always kind-hearted, while I was born a natural troublemaker. When the intense heatwave struck, our family stocked up on supplies and stayed indoors. My sister saw a little boy, who seemed about seven or eight years old, crying and asking for help. She decided to take him in. “We’ve plenty of supplies anyway. One more person won’t make much difference. Besides, he’s just a child.” I warned her that the boy looked oddly mature and might not be as innocent as he seemed. I suggested we observe him a bit longer. She said I was a cold-hearted troublemaker by nature. Then, she went and let him in anyway. Not just that, but she also convinced our mother to force me to share a room with the boy. That night, the scheming “little boy” secretly climbed into my bed. I was brutally assaulted. Yet my sister told me to let bygones be bygones and marry him. To force me to obey, she locked me out on the balcony at over 140 °F. Enraged, I set a fire and killed everyone. When I opened my eyes again and saw my sister safe and unharmed, I smiled. This time, I would show them what a troublemaker really was.

Mom and Dad always disappear at midnight and don't come back until 8:00 am the next day. Even when I'm forced onto the roof because of a flash flood and try calling them 99 times, they still refuse to show up. I've tried clinging to them like glue as it gets close to midnight once. As the clock hands creep toward midnight, they hit me for the first time, lock me in my room, and then vanish once more. That all changes when a prestigious family comes knocking because of an old marriage arrangement and the fake heiress, Suzanne Weston, walks out through a secret door. Only then do I find out that ten years ago, Mom and Dad didn't actually send her back to her real parents. Instead, they secretly bought the villa next door and set up a whole second home there. Mom and Dad push the fake heiress forward before blocking me. "We've only spent eight hours with her every day for the past ten years. She's already had to put up with enough, so don't even try to fight her for this, Danielle Weston." I can't believe what I'm hearing. I try to storm next door and trash the place, but Suzanne shoves me into the man-made lake. As I'm drowning, I catch a glimpse of myself ten years from now beneath the water. She's skin and bones, and all her hair has fallen out. After Mom and Dad pull me out of the water, I speak up before they can say anything. "Mom, Dad, I'm not fighting for the engagement anymore." And I'm done fighting for your love, too.

On the marking ceremony with my Alpha mate, Sebastian Cole, my world falls apart. A pack of Rogue werewolves kills my mother. The one responsible is Sebastian's stepsister, Cassandra Cole. The security footage captures everything. Cassandra runs out of the cemetery, with a group of Rogues hot on her heels. She bolts into my mother's house, desperate to hide. My mother steps in to protect her and fights back, but in the struggle, her silver rifle is knocked away and lands right at Cassandra's feet. Cassandra could pick it up and kill those Rogues, but she doesn't. She just stands there with a faint smile, watching as the Rogue leader drives his claws through my mother's heart. Later, Sebastian tries to justify her actions. "Vivian, Cassandra was wrong this time... I promise I'll punish her." But I know what I saw. I believe it was murder, and I am bringing charges against Cassandra at the Elder Council Court. However, Sebastian begs me to drop the case. "If Cassandra goes to prison, it'll destroy her! Vivian, don't do this." I can hardly believe what I'm hearing. I refuse him without hesitation. So, he makes another choice. The night before the hearing, he locks me in the basement, trying to stop me from testifying. That's when it finally hits me. No matter what happens, Cassandra will always matter more to Sebastian than I do.