Maiikling Kwento tungkol sa Familial Bond at Romance, at mga Nobela ng Hypocrisy na may Face Slapping

My girlfriend and I had agreed to marry as soon as we graduated. But after I waited three hours at the registration hall, she registered with my stepbrother instead. He had been in love with her for ten years, and now he was being sent to the deadliest front in space. “He won't survive without me,” she said. “Once he's gone, I'll still be yours.” My father and stepmother told me to be the bigger person. As I looked at their self-righteous faces, I accepted a command at the same front and became my stepbrother's highest-ranking superior. By the time news of my victories—and my wedding—reached home, every one of them had lost their minds with regret.

Today was my younger son, Luke's, eighteenth birthday. My ex-husband, Major General Arthur Ashford, let himself into my house without knocking. He headed straight for the liquor cabinet like he still owned the place. He poured himself a glass of whiskey and looked at me with open contempt. "Allison, how have you enjoyed the last eight years? Stuck here in Briarwood because of a family court order. "All because I broke a couple of glasses and put my hands on you a few times, you just had to file for divorce." "And what did that get you? The judge stopped you from taking the kids out of the city and made sure I got regular visitation." He swirled the whiskey in his glass, spilling a little onto the carpet. It was the same cocky look he wore the night he came home drunk and beat me with his belt. "You really thought you could get away from me? As long as I say no, you'll spend the rest of your life under my control. "After Luke cuts his cake, I am filing for emergency guardianship. You will never take my son away from me." I looked at his smug face, gripping the edge of my sleeve, and said nothing. Then he lifted his glass, ready to start barking orders at everyone. My daughter, Kate, rose from her chair and set a thick stack of papers onto the table in front of him. "General Ashford, you should read these. "As of midnight, Luke is legally an adult. Every travel restriction the family court placed on Mom is gone. "And this is the filing receipt for the name change petition for the two of us, which I filed with the Supreme Court." Arthur gave the papers a dismissive glance. Then his smile disappeared. Printed across the top in bold letters were the words: Petitions of Kate Ashford and Luke Ashford to Change Their Surname to Pierce.

On the anniversary of my daughter's death, I came across an anonymous post on my way home from visiting her grave. The title read: [I Sacrificed My Own Daughter to Make It Up to My First Love.] I opened it without much thought, but my eyes stopped on the third line. "My brother-in-law is my first love. Circumstances kept us apart back then, and I always felt I owed him." "Three years ago, my daughter was hospitalized with a cold. To save my brother-in-law's daughter, who had a congenital heart condition, I deliberately fed my daughter peaches, knowing she was allergic. Then I had her heart transplanted into my niece." A shudder ran through me. My daughter died from an allergic reaction to peaches three years ago. I quickly scrolled down. The post was ten minutes old, and the IP location showed it came from my city. I immediately opened the comments. Someone challenged the poster: "How could you possibly fake a death? Do you own the hospital or something?" The poster replied instantly: "I have connections. The deputy department head on duty that night was my best friend." My hand shook, and I nearly dropped my phone. My wife, Gwen Sinclair, was best friends with the deputy head of pediatrics at Westbridge General Hospital back then.

On Thanksgiving, I was feeding my five-year-old brother, Preston Foster, when he suddenly said he'd dreamed about the future, "Westfield Steel stock is going to shoot up thirtyfold in three days!" I didn't understand what he was talking about, so I ignored him. But three days later, the stock really did jump thirtyfold. "I dreamed about it three days ago. Reed heard me too. He kept it from you on purpose. He's bad luck! If you beat him to death, our family will finally start making money." My father, Robert Foster, flew into a rage. He strung me up and beat me for an entire day and night. My aunt, Mallory Foster, managed to save me before it was too late, but by then, one of my legs had already been broken. From that day on, Preston became the family's miracle child who could see the future, while I became the one they blamed for everything. To make up for what I'd supposedly done, I dropped out of school young and went to work despite my damaged leg. I worked myself sick to buy my family a new house and even paid for Preston's wedding. Years later, on another Thanksgiving, he laughingly admitted the truth, "I never actually made that prediction back then! Who knew Reed would be dumb enough to believe I did? And all that stuff about him being bad luck? I made that up too." I broke down and demanded an explanation, but my family acted as though I was the one causing trouble. "Preston was just playing a joke. Why are you making such a big deal out of it? It happened years ago. Do you really have to tear this family apart over something so old?" I lost all hope and jumped to my death. When I opened my eyes again, I was five years old. This time, I would be the miracle child who could see the future.

My mom and I work our butts off in order to clear Gregory Hudson, my boyfriend's crippling debt. Because of that, Mom even contracts lung cancer. But when I rush to the hospital to pay off the hospital bills, I find out that she's already taken her life by hanging herself. All she leaves is a suicide note. "I can't hang on anymore, Hailey. You should use the money to pay off the debt. Gregory is a good man. I know he loves you; it's just that he's stepped down the wrong path. "Once the debt is cleared, both of you should stay together and live a good life." After collecting Mom's ashes in an urn, I entrust the 300 thousand dollars—the money that Mom has earned with her blood, sweat, and tears—to Gregory. When I return to the company, I accidentally overhear the conversation between Gregory and a few of his debtors. "Mr. Hudson, Ms. Jackman has already passed all of your trials so far. What other arrangements do you have for her?" Gregory's childhood friend, Sophia Wagner, suddenly speaks up. "Even though Hailey can endure all the suffering with you, we still need to test if she can still handle living a good life with you." Gregory purses his lips. "Next, I'd like to know if Hailey's love for me is pure and sincere. If she doesn't pine for my wealth and doesn't become materialistic after finding out about my identity, I will marry her." As I look down at Mom's ashes, I can't help sobbing like a lost child. Both my mom and I are wrong about Gregory. I don't want to marry him anymore.