Ruthless Biological Family Short Stories & Novels

On my fourth birthday, Dad establishes a system to punish me by making me solve math problems. For every word I spell incorrectly, I'll be punished with 30 math problems. For every minute I am late getting out of bed, I'll be punished with 40 math problems. For every syllable I pronounce incorrectly while reading out loud, I'll be punished with 50 math problems. "You have to do your math problems well and make sure you outperform that woman's child! You must make the Rowland family proud of you!" Dad works incredibly hard to raise me all on his own, so in return, I must be a good, obedient boy, even when I'm so exhausted by the end of the day that I can no longer hold a pencil. Then comes our first class trip. While the other children share snacks and play games, I sit kneeling on the ground, my knees scraped raw and bleeding as I desperately grind away at math problems instead. "Ms. Carpenter, I've assigned Victor 200 math problems today. Could you please take a photo and send it to me? Make sure the little rascal doesn't slack off!" Dad tells my teacher, Ms. Beth Carpenter. The other children jeer at me and pelt me with small stones. "No wonder he doesn't have a mother! Who would ever like a kid who only knows how to do math problems?" I hang my head low, wondering if I'd still have to do all these math problems if I were that woman's child instead.

My world is simple. Everything has a price. A goodnight hug from Mom costs one dollar. Three minutes of Dad spinning me around in his arms costs five dollars. I keep track of it all in my head, then count out the coins from my bear purse to pay them. Dad calls it "splitting bills". He says it teaches me to be independent and never leech off others. I don't have any friends because I have no idea how to pay for friendship. I'm not scared of monsters in the dark. I'm scared of Dad looking over the bill and saying, "Kevin, you overspent on love today." So, I save every penny I can, hoping to buy more and more love. Then comes the day a stranger offers me a candy wrapped in shiny paper. Out of habit, I ask him how much it is. He says it's free, and I just need to walk with him for a while.

While on a car trip, our car is struck by falling rocks and breaks down on a remote mountain road. My sister, Renee Olsen, is terrified. We wait three hours before a passing vehicle finally comes. The driver rolls down the window. "I can only fit three people in my car. How many of you are there?" My mom, Penny Ziegler, lets out a relieved sigh and smiles. "Great, there are three of us." My dad, Leonard Olsen, immediately shifts slightly to the side, completely blocking me from view as I cower in the back seat. They get into the car with Renee and leave. Ten minutes later, Mom sends me a message. "Renee is in shock. We're bringing her to the hospital for a check-up first. You stay right there with the car and wait for us to pick you up." I glance at my leg that is bleeding from cuts caused by shattered glass and reply, "Okay." I wait from day into night until my phone battery dies, yet my parents never return. They never pick up my calls or reply to my messages. A team conducting geological surveys nearby discovers me, barely conscious. They arrange for a tow truck and rush me to the hospital, as I'm burning up with a fever. The doctor frowns when he sees my leg. "Why did you wait until now to come in? Young lady, your wound is infected. You need surgery to debride it. Where is your family? Get them here quickly to sign it." I slowly unclench my stiff fingers and take the surgical consent form. Calmly, I pick up the pen and sign my name. "I can sign it myself. They've already forgotten about me."

I have asthma, but Mom still forces me to take part in freshman orientation drills just to avoid accusations of favoritism. As I stand at attention in the 95-degree heat, my lips start turning blue. With no other choice, I raise a trembling hand. "Ms. Horton, I don't feel well—" Before I can finish, Roxanne Horton, the instructor leading our drills, coldly slaps my hand down. "Only half an hour in, and you're already faking sick to get out of training? And you have the nerve to lie to my face? Is this how your parents raised you?" Mom stands just a few feet away. As the dean of Hawthorne College, she immediately feels humiliated and turns to glare at me. "Everyone else is holding up just fine. You're the only one demanding special treatment," she snaps. "No daughter of mine would act like this. You'll stand here alone for another hour. Let's see how long you keep up this act." But I'm already struggling to breathe. My legs give way beneath me, and I collapse to the ground, clutching my throat as my face turns purplish-red. Before everything fades to black, I reach a trembling hand out toward Mom. "My inhaler… Help me…" But Mom's expression hardens. She turns away and lets my hand drop limply back into the dirt. "You've barely been standing for half an hour, and you're already pretending to have an asthma attack? Do you think I got to be dean by falling for every ridiculous lie?" She scoffs. "Get up right now. Stop embarrassing yourself!" When Roxanne realizes that I still haven't moved, she flies into a rage. She grabs the back of my collar and tries to haul me upright. By then, though, I'm already drifting upward, hovering above them. Looking down at Mom's cold, disappointed face, I twist the sweat-soaked hem of my shirt, overcome with shame. I'm sorry, Mom. I'll never be the daughter you can be proud of.

I was locked in a fridge for 40 days while the uncensored photos of me spread like wildfire across the internet. In the face of the salacious rumors about me, my mother reacted by reposting them. Then, she turned to warn my sister, "Look at how disgusting the entertainment industry is. Don't join it, alright? Stay home and inherit your sister's assets instead. My dearest daughter must be innocent and pure, unlike her." She forgot. She forgot I only joined this 'disgusting' industry to pay for her cancer treatment.

My dad was obsessed with getting me into Kingsbridge University or Central University, the two best universities in the country and two of the top universities in the world. He claimed it was for my own good as he made me retake the SAT, time after time. The first time I took the SAT, I scored 1360 points, more than enough to get into a highly ranked college. He tore up my offer letter and made me repeat the SAT. The second time, I scored 1440 points, enough to guarantee a spot at an elite college. He wouldn't even let me apply. I had to repeat the SAT. This time, I had scored over 1520 during all three practice exams. He was certain I would get into Kingsbridge University or Central University. But during the actual exam, my fever had climbed to 105.8 degrees Fahrenheit and my vision blurred. With my eyes red, I told my dad, "I really can't do this anymore..." He looked at me coldly, without a hint of concern. "It's just a fever! Everyone else can push through, why can't you? Stop acting so weak! "Be a man and tough it out! Even if you die, you better die in that exam room!" I gritted my teeth and went inside. After I filled in the last answer, I fainted and never got up again.

My daughter has been kidnapped, and the kidnapper is asking for five million dollars as ransom. I can just about scrounge the money together, but the kidnapper makes it clear that he wants a life in exchange for my daughter's. He'll take the money and kill the person who brings it to him. I smoke throughout the night, my eyes bloodshot as I try to think of something. Then, I fix my gaze on my mother, who is now senile and insane.

After my half sister, Serena Hawke, transferred to Ashmere University, she bet me she could steal Damian Cross from me within a month. I dismissed her. From that day on, Damian became a permanent second-place finisher. The first time Serena beat him, he frowned and said, "One point. I only lost by one point." After that, he calculated their scores every day. Over meals, he muttered, "How did she solve it?" Before bed, he stared at the rankings and said, "I'll beat her next time." He praised her clear reasoning, quick reactions, and even her handwriting. In the laboratory, he chose the seat beside her and responded only to her during group discussions. When I asked him to see a movie with me, he waved me off. "Serena sent me a new problem. I need to work it out." His phone was full of screenshots of her notes. Her class schedule hung beside his bed. Even in his sleep, he murmured about surpassing her. I watched the attention that had once belonged entirely to me shift toward my sister, inch by inch. Then my birthday came. Damian never showed up. I called thirty-seven times. He rejected every call. When he finally answered, he lowered his voice. "Rena asked me to watch the game with her. Wait a little longer." He hung up, and Serena immediately sent me her location: the third-floor lounge at the arena. When I opened the door, her arms were wrapped around his neck. The thread I had held taut inside my chest for half a year finally snapped. All that remained was a deep, aching exhaustion that seeped into my bones. Damian reached toward me in panic. "Rowan..." I stepped back. Anyone who could be taken from me was no longer someone I wanted.

After my parents passed away, Uncle Mike took me in. When greedy relatives tried to snatch away my inheritance, he chased them off with a kitchen knife. “As long as I’m here, nobody lays a finger on this girl!” Aunt Rachel doted on me, calling me her precious baby and making me nutritious meals every day. My cousin Pete secretly slipped me pocket money and made sure to pick me up and drop me off at school, afraid I might get bullied. The neighbors all said I was lucky and to repay their kindness someday. On graduation day, I cooked them a lavish meal to show my appreciation. Every dish was laced with rat poison. I didn’t spare a single soul, not even the neighbors. I killed them all!

I have always known since I was young that I am not the Luther family's biological son. I accidentally break my younger brother Henry Luther's limited-edition figure while cleaning the room, and Dad punishes me by making me kneel in the rain all night. Dad actually defends Henry when he accidentally blinds me in one eye with a high-powered laser pointer, saying, "Henry didn't do it on purpose. He just got rowdy while playing around, Julian." Henry flashes me a triumphant smile once I go permanently blind in my right eye. "That's what you get for living in our house when you're nothing but an outsider!" I am nothing but an outsider to them. I have done everything I can to please them for the past 18 years, but I have never managed to become part of their family. I accidentally discover a shocking truth one day—the paternity test clearly proves that I am Dad's biological son, whereas Henry is the adopted one. In that instant, my breath catches in my throat.

My sister and I got into a car crash. My heart was ruptured, and I needed immediate surgery if I were to live. My mother, being the director of her hospital, sent all the doctors to my sister instead, all just to check on her. She barely got hurt. I pleaded and begged for my mother to save me, but impatience got the better of her. She roared, "This isn't the time to take any attention away from your sister! She almost had a bone fracture!" And I died. I remember where it was. It was a freezing operating theater.

With my first paycheck, I buy three air conditioners for my family. But when I come home from work, I find that my west-facing bedroom is still sweltering like an oven. And there's a huge winter melon sitting on my bed. Mom proudly pats its skin. "We moved the air conditioners into your brother's and sister's rooms. We had one left over, so we installed it in your sister's art studio. "The outdoor unit for your room would be right outside your sister's window, and the humming would keep her awake at night. Just sleep with a winter melon. It'll keep you cool enough." I open my mouth, but the dull ache in my chest leaves me unable to speak. She has forgotten that I was hospitalized for heatstroke just last month. The doctor warned me to stay out of the heat after I was discharged. I turn toward the studio at the end of the hallway. Cool air spills through the crack beneath the door. Dad is adjusting the lighting over my sister's easel. My brother is holding a freshly cut slice of chilled watermelon to her lips. And my boyfriend of three years is carefully adjusting the airflow for her with the remote. "Angle the vents upward. Don't let her catch a cold." I wipe the sweat from my forehead and stare at the ridiculous winter melon on my bed. Suddenly, I don't want to fight for anything anymore. I take out my phone and reply to my supervisor. "You said I could become a permanent employee early if I transferred to the new branch in Veymont. I agree." After making it through twenty-two summers, all I want is to give myself a spring that never ends.

After my last exam, I spotted Mom waiting in the distance in a bright red dress. I was about to run to her when my twin sister, Rosie, beat me to it and threw herself into Mom's arms. "Sweetheart, you must be exhausted." Mom stroked Rosie's hair while Grant handed her an ice-cold juice and took her backpack. I stood where I was and watched the three of them climb into the family car, with Mom and Grant fussing over Rosie from either side. Just as the car was about to pull away, Rosie suddenly said, "Wait. We're missing someone." For one foolish second, I thought she meant me. I hurried toward them. Instead, Rosie waved at someone behind me. "Ethan! Over here!" Only after Ethan Cole climbed into the car did everyone finally notice me standing beside the open door. "Vivi? What are you doing here?" "Aren't you a year behind Rosie?" Because of my health, I'd started school a year later than my twin. Once I recovered, though, all their attention shifted to Rosie. They never even realized I'd skipped a grade. I looked at their confused faces and smiled. "I just came to wish Rosie luck." "That's sweet of you." Mom pulled two dollars from her purse. "Do you have enough for the bus? I can give you more if you need it." I looked at the two dollars in her hand, lowered my head, and whispered, "It's enough." The car door shut without hesitation. By the time I looked up again, even the exhaust had disappeared. I sniffed, pulled out my phone, and typed a question into the search bar: [Can you start college early?]

When I was ten, I transmigrated back in time and became the child of a poor farming family. My mother had an old injury, and my father had an eye condition, so the whole family depended on my labor to survive. When I was sixteen, there was a locust plague that summer. Our fall harvest was cut in half, and by deep winter, we had no grain left. I faced the wind and snow wearing a threadbare cotton coat just to find food. Halfway home, I froze to death, still clutching half a loaf of bread against my chest. After I died, though, my soul suddenly returned to the modern world. I saw my biological parents gathered around my older twin brother, laughing and chatting. There had never been any transmigration. The medieval city was a prison they had built for me. It had all been a controlled experiment run by my brilliant scientist parents.

When I was having a heart attack, my parents, my brother, and my fiancé were all at our family casino—celebrating Eva, our adopted daughter, at her twenty-first birthday, her official debut into the mafia world. The doctor refused to operate without a legal guardian’s signature. So I called them. My father’s assistant answered. “Sorry, Miss. The Don is in the middle of a toast.” My brother and mother let it ring until it went silent. Finally, my fiancé, Adam, picked up. Music roared behind him. I could hear laughter, glasses clinking. “Cecilia,” he said, impatient. “If you can’t even show up for Eva’s party, stop causing trouble. Today is Eva’s debut. Every Don from three territories is here. Whatever drama you’re playing can wait.” I lost count of how many times they chose her over me. So after this call, I stopped calling. I signed my own name. My family thought I’d finally learned to be obedient. But they should’ve known that in our world, silence only means one thing—I was preparing to disappear for good.

The day I was admitted to Crownstone College, my parents threw a thirty-table banquet to celebrate my younger brother, Jason. There was a banner across the hall. [Congratulations to Jason on getting into vocational school. You've brought honor to the family.] When it was time to cut the cake, Jason made a wish in front of all the guests. "I hope my sister gets married soon and stops wasting the family's money." The relatives raised their glasses and praised him for being so sensible. Dad beamed with pride. "A boy who learns a trade has a solid future. Unlike a girl, no matter how much she studies, she'll end up getting married anyway." I sat alone in the corner. The doctor had diagnosed me with severe depression and warned that I couldn't handle any more emotional shocks. My parents said I was bad luck. They told me not to have another episode and ruin my brother's celebration. I nodded, picked up my medical report, and walked to the rooftop of the hotel. Right then, my phone rang. On the other end were my parents from eighteen years ago. My young Dad laughed through tears. "It's a girl! We have a daughter!" My young Mom's voice trembled. "Sweetheart, I just gave birth to you. "Did our child grow up feeling loved by us throughout all eighteen years?" Listening to the applause from the banquet hall below, I laughed until I could barely breathe. "Yeah, you loved your child very much. "It just wasn't me." "What do you mean? Jess, don't scare me–" I smiled in relief but didn't answer her. I could hear fireworks from below. It sounded like they were celebrating my disappearance from this family. I closed my eyes, leaned forward, and jumped.

My older brother was always my parents' favorite child. Victor had been sickly since birth, and from the time we were little, I was expected to absorb every misfortune meant for him. When his kidneys failed, my parents took one of mine and gave it to him. By then, my own body was already failing, yet when I begged them to treat me a little better, they only glared at me and cursed. "If you hadn't taken everything from your brother in the womb, why would he have suffered all these years? You owe this family. Pay it back." With untreated kidney disease worsening inside me, I died after Victor deliberately locked me inside his basement. It was painful, and it was bitter. But this life. I've given it back to you.

I'm born with severe allergies, the kind where a whiff of pollen can trigger a full-blown asthma attack. But my mom, who is also the principal of my school, insists that I go on a field trip to the botanical garden with the rest of my class. I plead with her, my eyes reddened, but she stays as cold and hard as ice. "You've got all your meds, don't you? It's just a little thing. Why are you being so dramatic? I'm the principal, so I have to treat every student the same. If anything, you have even more reason to go, so people don't think I'm playing favorites!" To show what a good relationship I have with my classmates, she publicly commands me to get into the flowerbeds and pick flowers to be given to the top student in our grade, Rachel White. The moment I get close to the flowers, I start coughing and wheezing violently. A crushing sense of suffocation floods over me. Mom doesn't look worried in the slightest. Instead, she bites out, "Penelope, how long are you going to keep this act going? You're doing this on purpose to cause trouble for me and embarrass me, aren't you?" She has no idea that my throat is already swelling and closing up. Every breath I take feels like I'm swallowing broken glass. It looks like I won't be a problem for her anymore.

I loved Jason Lacroix for six years, but I never told him. I was his adopted sister. We weren’t related. I was also his assistant, responsible for everything in his life. I did not know who exposed my feelings toward him in public. I could never forget the icy glares in his eyes. “Madeline, you should know your place.” He thought I was mentally unstable. He listened to Camila Fisher, his first love, and sent me to a mental asylum. After I was discharged, he regretted his decision.

Before our wedding, my fiancée, Sarah Hargrave—a professor of medieval history—held a private ceremony in a secluded chapel in the countryside. But not with me. Under the glow of candlelight, she cradled Benjamin Wheeler—her first love, his face gaunt from the cancer consuming him—in her arms. Her smile was soft, almost reverent, as she murmured, "In the eyes of God, vows made before the altar are the only ones that matter. Even if the law says I belong to Daniel, my soul was never his." And so, to the faint echo of hymns and the scent of old incense, they drank from the same silver cup, exchanged rings, and stepped together into the dimly lit sacristy—their makeshift bridal chamber. I watched. Silent. Motionless. No outbursts, no demands for explanation. Just the quiet dialing of a clinic to undo the vasectomy I'd gotten for our future. From fifteen to thirty, I had loved Sarah for fifteen long years. But in all that time, there'd never been room for me. That space had always belonged to Benjamin, my stepbrother. So I let her go. Afterward, I joined a geological research team bound for the isolation of Antarctica—a land cut off from the world, quiet and clean. Before I left, I handed Sarah a divorce agreement…and a final gift to mark the end. I never anticipated that Sarah, who'd always met my devotion with frosty detachment, who'd never once glanced back as I walked away, would look ten years older overnight.