Familial Bond Romance Short Stories & Mistress Novels

My daughter and my husband’s godson were diagnosed with acute leukemia at the same time. The doctors said a banked cord-blood unit could save a life. His foster sister, Rebecca Sloan, knelt in front of me with her son in her arms and begged until her voice gave out. “Claire, please, let Leo have the cord blood. His father died right after he was born and I never banked any of my own. Have some pity on the two of us. “Leo is the only child I have. I’m begging you. Save him.” I refused outright. I was not going to gamble with my daughter’s life. Then, on the morning of my daughter’s treatment, my husband, Ethan Hale hit me with his car and left me critically injured. The wheels went over my thigh and back again. The pain nearly took me under. He stood over me while I struggled in the blood on the pavement, and I couldn’t read anything in his eyes. “Claire, I’m sorry. For Leo’s sake, this is the only thing I can do. “You shouldn’t have fought Rebecca over the cord blood. Leo is far sicker than our daughter. If anyone gets saved first, it should be him.” They rushed me into surgery. He turned around, took the cord blood, and gave it to Rebecca’s son. By the time I woke up in my room, the only thing waiting for me was my daughter’s death certificate.

My twin sister and I were born with the same face and nothing else in common. Elara was gentle enough to step around an ant. I was vicious. Cross me and I'd take your skin off and never lose a night's sleep over it. The year we came of age, the Crown Prince chose Elara. But the old court held that royal twins brought ruin. If Elara was to be Crown Princess, I had to die. So our parents wept and begged me to drink a death-simulating draught and disappear forever. Before I left, I made three demands. First, my Shadow Guard would pass to Elara. Second, she'd have a dowry worthy of a princess and a wedding no one could sneer at. Third, if the Crown Prince ever wronged her, they'd bring her home. They swore to all three. They told me that once I was gone, Elara could take the throne beside him without a whisper against her, and never want for anything again. I drank the draught and rode north to the frontier. I thought one life of mine was a fair price for a lifetime of hers. Three years later, pain tore me out of sleep. Twins share what the other feels. Something had happened to Elara. I rode for the capital through the night, and my sister was gone. A woman I'd never seen was being crowned Empress in her place. And our parents sat below the dais, smiling. Three years, and they'd forgotten one thing. Elara was the only one who ever kept me on a leash. And she wasn't there anymore.

A typhoon warning had been issued. I drove out to pick up my mother, who lived by the coast. My car broke down halfway there. I called my boyfriend fifty-eight times, and every single one was declined. The rain kept getting heavier. No rescue services were available, and the water was rising. My hands were shaking so badly that all I could do was get Mom to a nearby bus shelter. That was when I scrolled past a Facebook post from my boyfriend's assistant, Megan. "Derek is such a sweetheart. Spent two hours searching, and the little stray finally has a home." In the photo, Derek was at Megan's place, giving a stray cat a bath. I looked at my mother, soaked to the bone, and a wave of hurt washed over me. By the time evening fell, my boyfriend finally called back, but the wind was so strong that the signal kept cutting in and out. I was about to ask him to come get us when his voice crackled through the receiver, broken up by static. "Don't let your mom... the seafood... mess up the car." Before I could say a word, he hung up. The rescue team arrived. As we climbed in, Mom was still shivering, fretting over the seafood that had spoiled during the delay. I picked up the bag and tossed it into the trash. If it's spoiled, there's no point keeping it. Same goes for people.

A group of thugs dragged me into an alley. In a panic, I called my boyfriend thirty-nine times, only to have him decline every single call. My whole body trembled as I struggled desperately to break free. Just as they were about to strip me naked, laughter suddenly erupted around me. One by one, they removed their masks and caps. I looked up stiffly and saw that every one of them was someone close to me. My younger brother, Caleb Bennett, scoffed. "This is hilarious, sis. You should've seen the look on your face. Did you seriously think someone was stalking you?" My older brother, Adrian Bennett, teased, "How are you still this easy to scare after all these years?" My best friend, Maya Grant, smiled at the girl beside her. "See, Jenna? I told you she was a coward, but you didn't believe me. Do you believe me now?" I followed her gaze to Jenna Gale, the woman Blake Carter had always carried a torch for, who had just returned from abroad. She stood behind Blake, looking at me with feigned innocence. "I had no idea you were really this easy to scare, sis. "No wonder you guys do this every year, Blake. It's actually pretty fun." Blake remained completely indifferent, never once looking at me. "If you like it, we'll do it again next time." I stood frozen, my entire body went cold. Only then did I realize that this was yet another one of their pranks meant to toughen me up. Two years ago, they locked me in a pitch-black room and told me ghost stories, leaving me plagued by nightmares for an entire month. Last year, they put dead snakes and rats in my bed. I was so terrified that I collapsed and went into convulsions. Today, one more person had joined them in tormenting me. It suddenly occurred to me that it was time to put an end to this farce once and for all.

As the iron gates of the mental institute swing open, my wife, Serena Seacrest, walks in with her childhood sweetheart, Adrian Cross, beside her. She looks at me with utter disgust. I am strapped tightly to the bed, unable to move. She sneers, "Damian, you've been subjected to electroshock treatments for an entire month. Is your mania any better? You pushed Adrian down the stairs and nearly broke his leg, so I sent you here to teach you how to be a normal person." Serena tosses a worn-out pink comfort bunny onto the floor and speaks as though she is granting me a favor. "Get down on your knees and apologize to Adrian. If you do, I'll be kind enough to let you see Lila next month." I stare blankly at the dusty bunny, but I am unable to make a sound. Serena frowns and curses, "What a complete nutjob." Then, she turns around and closes the door. What she doesn't know is that a month ago, on the day she forcibly dragged me onto the mental institute's transport van, our daughter, Delilah Vale, ran after me and was run over by a truck at an intersection, her body mangled beyond recognition. Delilah is dead now, and she will never hold her bunny again. And everything between Serena and me had ended that same night.

A week before we're supposed to register our marriage, my fiancee, Celine Payton, asks me to book eight train tickets to the beach. She says it's our last trip before we get married, and everyone close to us is going. I spend three days scrambling for tickets and finally manage to get eight seats together. After I pay, a group poll pops up in a chat called "No Henry Sharp Travel Group." The question is simple. "Should Henry come with us?" Seven votes are against it while one person abstains. Not a single vote is in my favor. The voters include Celine, my older sister, Celine's childhood best friend, and my younger cousin, whom I had practically raised. I ask Celine if she's the one who abstained. She rubs her temples. "Yes. I didn't vote against you, and that's already me looking out for you. "Everyone's worried you'll try to control everything and complain about this or that. No one will have any fun. Just give me some space before we get married, okay?" I ask, "Then why do you still have me book eight tickets?" Her answer comes naturally. "You're good at getting tickets. The eighth seat gives us extra room for luggage. I'll send you the money later." My older sister, Joanne Sharp, tries to reason with me. "We're about to be family. Don't let a few tickets ruin your marriage." I look down at the eight seats sitting side by side. So I spend three days scrambling for tickets, not because I'm going with them. I'm only helping everyone else book a trip that doesn't include me. The app reminds me that I have ten minutes left to cancel the tickets. But by then, I don't care whether I can get a refund. What matters is the woman I'm about to marry. Even when everyone else turns against me, she can't bring herself to cast a single vote in my favor.

My mom stole my dad's name and his status as the top-ranked student in the state, then gave them to her childhood sweetheart. From then on, the two thieves soared to the top. One was admitted to Ashford University and went on to become a computer science professor at one of the country's top universities. The other attended Westbridge University and became a nationally recognized expert in education. … Meanwhile, my dad was left without a legal identity, spending his entire life scraping by through odd jobs and backbreaking labor. Years later, I inherited his talent and founded a leading AI technology company, making a name for myself in the industry. Potential partners were constantly coming to me with offers. One company, in particular, approached me several times seeking a partnership. The contract they offered was tempting, with generous terms and impeccable credentials. I casually flipped through their background information. But when I reached the page introducing the founder, my hand stopped. After a long silence, I finally said slowly, “Forget it. I won’t work with you.”

My mom's dying of cancer, and her final wish is to see me settle down and start a family. I beg my girlfriend, Yvonne Hurst, and my childhood friend, Colin Lowell, to help me put on this act for Mom. After asking them 88 times, they finally agree to play along and help me fulfill her last wish. On the day of the wedding, Mom clings to the last of her strength, waiting until the very end for the bride and best man to arrive. But they never do. Instead, Colin posts a photo online. Yvonne's in her wedding dress, and Colin is dressed as the best man. The two of them stand beside a cake, beaming at the camera. "My best friend's getting married, and the bride went all the way across town to pick up a cake with me," his caption reads. A guy couldn't ask for a better girlfriend. He's one lucky man." The location tag leads to a popular bakery known for its cakes. I call Yvonne and demand to know what is going on. "Isn't this all supposed to be about fulfilling your mom's dying wish?" she asked, sounding casual, almost dismissive. "I thought I'd spend some time with Colin and help him relax. It'll make our performance more convincing later." Colin leans over and laughs. "Yeah, Nathan. We're just messing with you. We'll be back soon," he assures me. "Tell Ms. Brooks to wait a little longer." Only then do I understand that my desperate pleas and Mom's dying wish mean nothing to them. To them, it is all just a harmless joke. I stare at the heart monitor as its beeping flattens into one long, unbroken tone, tears blurring my vision. When this absurd little act finally comes to an end, I'm the only one left to bear the consequences. From this moment on, I'm going to let them go. And finally, I'll let myself move on.

It's the third year since my wife, Joyce Sinclair, cheated on me. I spread her intimate photos with her male assistant, Bryan Long, on the internet. Then, I doused myself in gasoline and threatened to drag everyone down to hell with me. Bryan's so scared that he flees the city that very night. I think I've won. However, to settle my lawsuit and cover the damages, my older sister, Rachel Lovett, sells her house and takes out high-interest loans. In the end, the burden becomes too much for her, and she jumps from a high-rise building. Her voice is hoarse in the recording she leaves me. "That's enough, Ray. We've lost everything. Mom and Dad have aged overnight, and I can't take it anymore..." Mom clutches Rachel's belongings and cries until she passes out. Dad's emaciated hands clamp around my neck as he demands at the top of his lungs, "How many more lives do you have to destroy before you're satisfied?" Tears silently trail down my cheeks, and I finally come to my senses. I no longer neurotically look into every single man around Joyce, and I stop badgering her with questions about the scent of men's cologne on her. Even when I walk in on her staring at a photo of her and Bryan and reminiscing about the past, I take the initiative to bring him back. It all comes to a head when Bryan wishes to become Joyce's lawfully wedded husband on his birthday. Without the slightest hesitation, I print out the divorce agreement, sign and seal it, and deliver it to him. To my surprise, Joyce rips the agreement to shreds. She grips my chin and demands hysterically, "Raymond Lovett, what happened to the stubborn man who'd rather die than divorce me? Where is he now?"

After swallowing my fourth painkiller, I spent the entire morning sitting in my hotel room in the wedding dress Curtis Bradford had picked out for me. The car that was supposed to take me to the ceremony never showed up. Instead, I came across a livestream of a wedding that had gone viral around town. On-screen, Curtis slipped the pink diamond ring I had begged him for onto the bride's finger. The bride was Shannon Cobb, my biological sister who had disappeared ten years ago. Curtis looked straight into the camera. "Leslie, I know you're watching. "Ten years ago, you lost Shannon and put her through hell. I only let you believe I was going to marry you because I wanted you to know what it feels like to be abandoned." The camera panned to my parents and my brother, Richard Cobb, who were supposed to be helping set up my new home. Richard looked into the camera and said, "You've had ten years of our love and attention. Give back everything that should've been Shannon's, and we'll consider your debt paid." I stared at the happy family on the screen, completely numb. Then I closed the livestream and threw the keepsake I had gotten for Curtis into the trash, along with my wedding ring and veil. None of them knew I had been diagnosed with terminal stomach cancer the month before. Even with painkiller injections, I could barely stay on my feet that day. All I wanted was to marry Curtis before I died and let my parents and Richard see me happy one last time. But that wasn't going to happen anymore. I only had three days left. I might as well find somewhere quiet and wait for the end.