Contos de Romance sobre Melodramatic e Romances com Family Emotions

On the day my wife, Adele Bellamy, rang the opening bell on Merrow Street to take her company public, my daughter and I sat in the audience. When my daughter was invited onstage to speak, she took the microphone and asked me in her small, childish voice, "Daddy, did you really get Mommy by being a homewrecker?" The hushed hall erupted as if a boulder had crashed into still water, and countless camera flashes swung toward my pale face. "Mr. Linwood, is what your daughter said true?" "If his own daughter said it, it has to be true! That's a juicy high-society secret. Bet he never expected his own kid to be the one to spill it." "Haven't you heard? Ms. Bellamy used to have a childhood sweetheart, and then they split up out of nowhere. Maybe he broke them up so that he could take that guy's place!" Amid the uproar, I rushed onto the stage in a panic to explain myself, but the moment I opened my mouth, Adele pressed her hand down on the back of mine. "Yes. He was the homewrecker."

The night before the design competition, my husband took my design draft, promising to secure a patent to protect my work. In the intense competition, my work stood out and won first place. During the award ceremony, I walked on stage wearing the necklace that my daughter and I had made together. Suddenly, my seven-year-old daughter rushed up to the stage, screaming, "Mom, how could you steal Veronica's necklace? That's horrible and embarrassing. Just come down and go home with me."

I get into a car accident on my way to surprise my husband, Theodore Vane, during one of his business trips. When I wake up, I keep mistaking people for someone else, even my own parents and husband. The first time my younger sister, Celeste Ashcroft, brings her fiancé home, I throw myself into his arms. My parents panic and quickly pull me away. "Watch yourself! That's your sister's fiancé. Theodore is still away on business." The second time, I catch my sister kissing her fiancé when I drop off her performance outfit. Without thinking, I call out Theodore's name. When my best friend, Sara Lawson, hears about it, she can't resist teasing me. "Heather, it's been so long since you've had any action with Mr. Vane that your hormones must be all over the place!" Just a few days ago, I'm running late for work, so I ask "Theodore" to drive me, making my sister miss her prenatal appointment. I feel terrible, but everyone rushes to reassure me. "Come on, your brother-in-law does look a little like Theodore. It's an easy mistake to make." Eventually, my parents take me to see a doctor because of how much I'm struggling. He tells me the accident has damaged the part of my brain responsible for recognizing people. I believe him. Until the day I go to the hospital alone for a follow-up appointment and happen to see a message from Mom in our family group chat. She's tagged Theodore. "If the baby's doing well after today's checkup, we should stop giving Heather the medication for her face blindness. What's already in her system should last until the baby's born." Theodore replies almost immediately. "Sounds good. Celeste needs more attention during her pregnancy anyway. Heather won't recognize me for a while, but we'll still need you to help cover for us, Mom." I freeze, a deafening ringing filling my ears. I'm not sick at all. They've been drugging me this whole time, just to keep me from discovering Theodore's affair with my own sister.

Three years after my release from prison, I ran into my ex-wife in the presidential suite of the most exclusive hotel in Bayshore. It had been years since I last saw her. She was draped in a silk robe, radiating wealth. When she recognized me, something unreadable passed through Cecily Monroe's eyes. "On the day you got out, why didn't you wait for me to come pick you up?" I said nothing and handed over the takeout. Her gaze dropped to the scar on my wrist, and her breath caught. "I went too far with that. But you've always been tougher than Adrian. You can always get back on your feet." She was talking about what happened six years ago, when Adrian Burke was involved in a catastrophic medical malpractice incident. She fabricated evidence to pin the blame on me and sent me to prison. I stepped away from Cecily. Over 1,000 days and nights of hard labor behind bars had ground away every last trace of whatever I once felt for her.

My six-year-old son, Zac Quest, deliberately fed me almond cake, which I was allergic to, to make me miscarry. Standing in front of the hospital bed, he hid behind my husband, Sterling Quest, with a long face and refused to admit his mistakes, "Grandma said you won't ever divorce Dad once you give birth to my sister. I don't want you as my mom anymore. I prefer Ms. White!" Sterling said indifferently, "We'll have other children. Winona... is indeed more fit to raise Zac than you." Hearing those words, I gave up completely. The day I was discharged from the hospital, I went back home and cleared out all my belongings. All I left behind was a divorce agreement and a letter disowning Zac.

The yacht carrying my parents and my younger brother, Dylan Marsh, exploded at sea. There were no survivors. I came home to an empty house and a mountain of debt I had no way to pay off. Numb with despair, I climbed onto the roof, ready to jump—when a stream of comments suddenly scrolled past my vision, as if I were watching myself from the outside. [Plot twist: your parents actually won three hundred million dollars in the lottery. They took your brother abroad to live it up.] [Lol, Dylan has no idea the poor, blind girlfriend he dumped is actually the eldest daughter of the Ross family. She's just been playing along, pretending to be broke.] [Once Dylan blows through all his money and comes crawling back, Celeste Ross is going to lock him in a room and make him pay for it.] [Come on, cannon fodder, jump already. Everyone's waiting for Dylan's big comeback.] I decided, right then, that I wasn't going to die after all. That night, soaked to the bone and half-drunk, I knocked on Celeste Ross's door.

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.

After a car accident left Vincent Holt, head of the powerful Holt family, disabled, he stunned high society by publicly seeking a wife. My father immediately submitted my profile. “Since you’re so determined to break up with Cole, let’s see if you can land someone from the Holt family instead.” I refused, only to get slapped hard across the face as I tried to grab his phone. “You have no choice in this.” With nowhere else to turn, I went to ask Cole Brody for help. He was the only one who could change my father’s mind. However, I overheard their conversation. “Don’t worry, Mr. Brody. Vincent Holt is just a cripple. Bethany’s too proud to accept him. Just give it some time. She’ll come crawling back to you.” Cole chuckled. “Lulu wants a baby. I’m just helping her out by sleeping with her a few times. It’s not a big deal, yet Bethany just won’t leave it alone. I knew you got a way to keep her in check.” My body went cold. It turned out that I had been standing alone in a ruin of lies all along. However, when the Holt family really picked me, they panicked.

"Ms. Clarke, you have successfully purchased a Final Memories recording package. We have arranged hidden cameras to record you anytime and anywhere. From this moment on, no matter where you go or what you do, everything will be secretly filmed until the day you pass away." The staff member handed the contract to Lila Clarke and asked her to confirm everything one last time. Without hesitation, she signed her name. The reason she ordered Final Memories was because she had been diagnosed with cancer. She had no more than one month left to live.

The day the university released the family placement positions for doctoral graduates, I went straight to the Human Resources Office to register. But the staff member barely looked up before rolling their eyes. "Mr. Slater, everyone at this university knows you cheated on your wife and are about to leave the marriage with nothing. How do you still have the nerve to ask about the placement position?" I thought there had been some kind of misunderstanding. I rushed home, hoping to explain everything to my wife, only for my mother to slap me across the face. "I don't have a shameless son like you. Get out of Natalie's house!" I was driven back to the rural school where I had spent the past three years teaching. But by then, the entire village was filled with rumors about me, and even the children avoided me. The day I received the divorce papers my wife had mailed me, I returned home. But before I could enter, I overheard her talking to her friends through the half-open door. "Natalie, you spread those rumors and forced your husband into divorcing you just so Mr. Talbot could get that placement position. Aren't you worried your husband won't remarry you afterward?" She let out a dismissive laugh. "Not even my mother-in-law has a problem with it. No one but me would marry a penniless man like him! Ian needs this job more than he does. In a week, once everything's settled, I'll forgive him for 'cheating' and take him back. He'll be so grateful that he'll probably thank me for the rest of his life." My grip tightened around the divorce agreement until my knuckles turned white. If that was how it was going to be, then I would give her the divorce. But once I signed those papers, she could forget about ever remarrying me.

On the day my daughter, Dakota Bradshaw, gets into a car accident, I rush over to save her, only to get crippled instead. Both my wife, Delilah Rowland, and Dakota don't mind the fact that I'm being a burden to them. Instead, they put in a lot of effort to take good care of me. But one day, a fire breaks out at home. Yet, Delilah personally closes my room door. Since I'm crippled, I end up falling to the floor in my state of panic. That's when I notice Dakota's shoes through the gap under the door. "Dakota, save me!" I call for help at the top of my lungs. But only the sounds of the crackling flames respond to me. I have no idea how much time has passed when I catch wisps of a conversation hazily. "Mom, the firefighters are here. What should we do?" Dakota's voice is very low. Delilah replies calmly, "Tell the police that your father started the fire when he was cooking. We just reached the corridor at that time, so the doorknob was already warped from the fire." Dakota simply says one word. "Okay."

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.

One year after I was confirmed to be a fake heir, all my friends said I was like a completely different person. I was no longer spoiled or entitled. I no longer desperately sought even a passing glance from my parents. And I no longer exhausted myself trying every possible way to win Jane Fraser's love. The harsh reality of financial hardship left me running ragged every day. It also made me understand, with painful clarity, that affection and romance were the most useless things in this world. As they wished, I stopped fighting. I stopped competing for anything at all. Later, when Jane brought the real heir back home, I simply went quietly to the guest room and waited in silence, ready to give up everything that once belonged to me. But those who had long wanted me to be obedient and well-behaved were suddenly driven mad. They asked me, over and over, why I had stopped fighting back.

On my wedding day, the wedding convoy was almost here, but my younger sister—my bridesmaid—was still refusing to get out of bed. The moment my fiancé, Graham Hollis, found out, he called me. "Mara, don't wake Lila. I'll have the drivers loop around Harbor City one more time. Let her sleep a little longer. "We've got a long day ahead of us. I'm worried she won't be able to handle it." He hung up before I could say anything. Mom saw my eyes tearing up and hurried over. "Mara, don't cry on your wedding day." Then she sighed. "And don't blame Graham. I'm the one who told Lila she could sleep until six. Work has been exhausting for her. She finally got time off. What's wrong with letting her rest a little longer?" My chest tightened until I could barely breathe. Lila had always slept too much. Doctors said she had a weak constitution. When we were teenagers and she couldn't get up for early classes, Mom made me wait for her even if it meant I was punished for being late. On my birthday, Graham and Lila once promised to go to an air show with me. When Lila wouldn't wake up, Graham canceled the tickets. And now even my wedding had to wait until she'd slept enough. An hour later, the wedding cars pulled up outside in complete silence. The twelve celebratory honks we'd planned were canceled. Even the noisemakers set out for the send-off had been cleared away. Graham walked up to me and lowered his voice. "We didn't want to wake Lila, so your mom and I decided to keep everything quiet." I smiled. All at once, I realized there was no reason for this wedding to happen at all.

On Twelfth Night, my wife, Joanna Jensen, and I agree to spend the day at my parents' place. I'm holding the hand of our five-year-old son, Charlie Reed. We've barely stepped through the gate of my parents' neighborhood when Joanna's phone rings. It's her brother-in-law, Ryan Quinn, on the line. "Joan, I'm trying to give Cynthia a bath, but she keeps crying for her Aunt Joanna. She's getting older now, and a girl her age shouldn't be bathed by her dad. I really don't know what else to do…" I've long since grown sick of his helpless act. Without saying a word, I just tighten my grip on Charlie's hand. Joanna's voice softens instantly, full of reassurance as she promises she'll be right over. When she hangs up, that familiar apologetic look is already on her face. "Honey, it isn't easy for Ryan to raise Cynthia all on his own. I'll just go check on them, give Cynthia a bath, and come straight back. I'll definitely make it back before lunch so I can eat with you and your parents." She isn't asking. She's telling me. I look at her, my heart sinking. Six years of marriage, and it's the exact same thing every single year. Ryan always plays this game, and Joanna always goes along with it. As I watch her walk away without looking back, Charlie tugs at the hem of my shirt and looks up at me. "Daddy, is Mommy going to Uncle Ryan's house again? But she promised she'd build Legos with us." I crouch down, smooth his hair, and suppress the anger rising in my chest. "Be a good boy, Charlie. Let's head up first. We don't want to keep Grandma and Grandpa waiting." Six years of marriage, and I've spent five of those years waiting for her to come with me to my parents' place. Charlie is five years old, and he's spent his whole life waiting for her to sit down and build Legos with him. This year, I'm done waiting. I'm not going to make Charlie wait anymore, either.

Everyone said I was the most generous man alive. When my CEO wife brought her brother-in-law and his son through the door, he stood there with bloodshot eyes. "Emmett's mother is gone. Could I borrow Colette for a few days to be his mom? He cries every night. It's breaking my heart." Without a word, I went to the bedroom and packed Colette Harmon's things for her. "We're family. You don't have to ask." At my son's birthday party, Emmett Pryce wanted to go to the amusement park and told everyone he did not want to share his new mom. My son immediately turned to the guests and apologized, saying, "Ms. Harmon has an urgent matter to attend to. We'll have to wrap up today's party here. Thank you all for coming." Everyone praised us, father and son, for being so gracious about it. Only I knew what had really happened. My son and I had been reborn. In our previous life, Colette had favored her widowed brother-in-law, Stefan Pryce, just the same. I had swallowed every last bit of it. When my patience finally ran out, I forced the divorce. Not long after, my son developed a heart condition and needed an artificial heart. The medical bills were staggering, so I had nowhere else to turn but Colette. However, she laughed in my face and threw me out into the blizzard. "You'll never be half the man Stefan is. Give it up." My son's heart stopped in my arms. Now that we had been reborn, I willingly let these things slide. All I wanted was for my son to live.

My grandfather's Alzheimer's check-up is coming up. But I'm out of town running an investment deal for Casey Watson, so I call her to remind her to make the appointment. "Make sure you arrange Grandpa's check-up properly. He's old and can't handle the hassle." Casey agrees readily. Even though she has always been obsessed with painting, she immediately sets down the canvas she's working on. Yet, soon she forgets all about it and runs off to help her childhood sweetheart, Tommy Hurst, touch up his pieces for an exhibition. By the time I rush back from out of town and track down my missing grandfather, three days have passed. Grandpa's sitting in a pile of trash, clutching a beat-up ball he's found for me. "Lawrence, do you like the ball I got for you?" he asks, grinning. Weeping silently with my hand over my mouth, I nod. I call Casey dozens of times to ask about what happened that day, but she declines every time. It isn't until evening that she finally texts back. "I'm too busy to reply." I turn off my phone and watch Grandpa, his hair streaked with gray, hobbling toward me. Suddenly, it all feels so pointless to me. It's time for Casey and me to end our marriage.

As I was packing for our honeymoon, my husband changed our destination yet again. This time, he wanted to go to Bali, the place my younger sister had been longing to visit. I stopped packing and looked up, only to catch the silent exchange between him and our son. "If Mom has a problem with it, we can just take a vote," Byron Pena suggested. For years, whenever Charlotte Lefebvre and I disagreed, they had settled the matter with a vote, claiming it was the fairest way to keep the peace. When I wanted a fancy dinner for my birthday, they voted for Charlotte's choice of a light salad, agreeing that it was healthier. And when I was struggling mentally and wanted to see a doctor, they voted for Charlotte again, accepting her claim that I was simply too stressed. Now, once again, the result was the same. Two to one. I lost. Swallowing the lump in my throat, I protested, "Lake Tahoe is where we fell in love." But Pierre Pena didn't even look up from his phone as he booked a group trip to Bali. "They both have water, don't they? What's the difference?" Before I could argue further, he finalized the purchase. "They only had packages for three, so you'll have to book your own ticket." Just like that, he'd grouped himself, Byron, and Charlotte together, leaving me out entirely. Rather than argue with him again, I slipped off my wedding ring and booked a one-way ticket to Lake Tahoe. If there was somewhere I truly wanted to go, I could get there on my own.

My wife, Lani Fort, finally answered my calls only after my daughter, Anjou, stopped breathing. “Didn’t I tell you that Warren Stafford’s dog was having a difficult labor? I’m in the middle of saving a life right now. “You’ve called 108 times in two hours. What on earth is going on?” Two hours earlier, my daughter had suddenly developed a high fever, so I took her to the hospital. The doctor diagnosed her with acute myocarditis and said her only chance of survival was to use an ECMO machine. The $50,000 initial fee for the treatment had become an insurmountable obstacle for me. I called her 108 times, but she had rejected every single call. My voice trembled as I held my daughter’s lifeless body. “Anjou... she’s gone...” Loud cheers erupted from the other end of the line. Her childhood friend cheered joyfully. “They’re here! They’re here! Pudding gave birth to eight puppies in her first litter.” Lani’s voice also carried a note of relief. “I drove two hours to take her to the veterinary hospital. Spending $50,000 to save the lives of eight dogs was well worth it.” During the proposal, she said she would love me forever. After we got married, she said she could not give up her career. So, she made me quit my job to stay home and take care of the kids. The $50,000 treatment bill had cost my child her life. On the other hand, she had spent $50,000 to save Warren’s dog. Our marriage would not survive this.

I was suffering from period cramps, so I ordered some painkillers. I asked for a woman to deliver my painkillers to me, but a drunken man came over instead. This time, I did not call my brothers for help. I called the police instead. In the past, not only did my brothers send all of their bodyguards to me, but they also rushed back. In the process, they ended up missing the theater performance of our adopted sister, Gloria. Gloria was sad and grabbed a prop to stab herself. My brothers comforted me. “Don’t blame yourself for it. At the very least, you’re safe.” But, right after, they arranged my kidnapping and gave me over to a group of drunkards. “That was just a drunkard. You could have just chased him out. Did you have to call us? Look! Gloria’s dead now! You’re not getting out of this alive either!” When I opened my eyes again, I returned to the time when the drunkard was knocking on the door. This time, I did not call them, and my brothers got to watch Gloria’s theater performance and cheered her on. But once the performance ended, they regretted it.