Cerita Pendek & Novel Scumbag Familial Bond

My little sister was murdered by her kidnappers. I watched it all happen and never said a word about who did it. My mother got on her knees and begged me. I didn't flinch. When my father threatened me with his authority as the Don, I walked away from my place as the Family heir. I moved to a small town down south. Eight years later, I was dying of a terminal illness, and my older sister, Beth Turner, had taken over the Family. Under her, the Turners had become the most powerful mafia family on the East Coast. The first thing she did when she found me was have me dragged back to the Family's tribunal. "Selena Turner, you ungrateful snake. Mia called you her sister for all those years, and you still won't name the kidnapper. "Mia's been dead for years. Don't you feel any guilt at all?!" I was on my knees in the great hall. I couldn't speak. "After all these years, I can finally extract your memories. Today, I'm going to see exactly who you've been protecting. I will avenge Mia." She ordered her men to restrain me and hook up the extractor. On the screen above the banquet hall, a face suddenly appeared. The room erupted into chaos, and Beth's face went deathly pale.

After earning my architect license, I posted a celebratory update on social media. When I got home that evening, I found my uncle, Cameron Mitchell, and my cousin, Parker Mitchell, waiting for me. I hadn't heard from them in ages. "Adrian, I heard you're working for a major construction firm now," Cameron said, puffing away on his cigarette. "Well, Parker's getting married and needs a new house built. Draw up the blueprints tonight so construction can start tomorrow. "You're in the business, so you might as well handle the site supervision and material procurement, too. Take care of everything!" I'd barely sat down before he dumped a huge responsibility on my shoulders. "Uncle Cam, I specialize in industrial architecture. That's completely different from building a private home in the countryside." At that, Cameron's face immediately fell. "What's the difference? Isn't it all just laying bricks and stacking walls? "Did all those years of education go straight down the drain? Can't you even handle a simple country house? I think you've gotten yourself an important position and forgotten what family means." Out of consideration for our family ties, I agreed to his request. But after I finished building the house, why did he come crying and begging me to tear it down as soon as possible?

When my stepsister, Kate Lawrence, is poisoned at the full moon ceremony, my father, Jack Blackwood, condemns me at once, convinced that I am the one behind it. He clamps silver chains around me and drags me into the manor's dark underground cell. His eyes burn hatefully as he snarls, "You wretch! How could I have a daughter like you? Rot in here!" I drop to my knees on the cold floor and try to explain, but the sentence he throws over his shoulder as he turns away snuffs out the last of my hope. "Even if she dies in there, no one shall go in! Whoever lets her out will die with her!" The cell severs the mind-link completely, so no one hears me screaming. Seven days later, he finally remembers me, not knowing that I'd already died on the fourth day when the silver burned through to the bone.

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 parents always demanded that I, as the eldest son, set an example for my younger siblings. Whenever they messed up, it was automatically blamed on my failure to manage them properly. After my sister stole a sports car and hit a pedestrian, my father blamed me for failing to supervise her. To teach her a lesson, he publicly humiliated me at the annual shareholder meeting—the very place where I was supposed to establish my authority. "Failing to keep an eye on your sister is your negligence! To make sure she learns her lesson, your position as a director and your company shares are revoked!" He stripped away my stock and title, crushing my reputation in front of my board members and subordinates. And when my younger brother fell in love with a girl against my mother's wishes, she decided to teach him a lesson about women's true nature by deliberately setting up my fiancée of five years to cheat on me. On my engagement day, she exposed the explicit video in front of high society, turning my special day into a public humiliation. Later on, she blamed me for failing to set a better example for my brother. Standing in the middle of a ruined engagement party, I finally saw my family for who they really were. Since I'm such a failure as an older brother, I won't be their son anymore.

At four months pregnant, I went to pick up my prenatal test results with my husband, Aiden Carter, who was an OB-GYN. The smile at the corner of his lips froze the moment he saw the report. Without a word, he grabbed my hand and tried to schedule an abortion. I stood there in shock. The attending physician, Dr. Marianne Cole, had just told me the baby was perfectly healthy! I tore myself free and demanded, "Why do you want me to get an abortion?!" He didn’t answer and had already scheduled the procedure. When I tried to run, he yanked my arm tighter. "There's no way we are having this child!" Clutching my belly, I hurried to call my parents, who were both OB-GYNs themselves. Dad, who had always doted on me, raised his fist, aiming straight for my stomach. Mom’s face twisted in horror, shaking her head wildly. "No, this won’t work. It can’t be like this." "Find a few men. Lock Clara Hart in with them." I didn’t understand why they were so desperate to destroy my child. All I wanted was to escape. Instead, they locked me inside a pitch-black room. When I felt the blood trickling down my legs, I knew my baby was gone. Mom came smiling to fetch me. I fought, demanding to know why they had done this to me. Without responding, she turned around and sent me straight to Ravenwood Asylum. I was tortured to death there. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the very day I went to collect my prenatal report. Aiden looked at me, his face glowing with joy. "Baby, this is our first child. I can’t wait for the day he’s born."

Before a gathering of New York's underworld Families, I slipped into the vintage Chanel gown my mother had left me. As I looked in the mirror, my seven-year-old daughter suddenly said, "Mommy, it doesn't matter what you wear. You're always the ugliest one." Just like that, all the joy the gown had brought me disappeared. It wasn't the first time my daughter had said something cruel. Once, the FBI took me in for questioning and kept me for three days. The moment I got home, I wrapped her in my arms and asked if she'd missed me. She only shrugged. "No, Mommy. You're too stupid. Smart people don't get caught." My husband, Vincent, said sternly, "You can't talk to her like that. We're a family." I asked carefully, "If Mommy's so stupid, will you take care of me, sweetheart?" My daughter spread her hands. "Not me. Daddy said this family doesn't feed freeloaders." I was too stunned to speak. She just smiled at me, all innocence. "Don't be mad, Mommy. I'm only telling the truth." Every time she hurt me, she always added those same words. No matter how much it hurt, I kept telling myself she was simply too young to understand. That she didn't truly mean to hurt me. Until the day she smugly posted one of her "honest truths" on TikTok, hoping the whole internet would judge me. This time, she would regret telling the truth for the rest of her life.

When I touch someone else's personal belongings—things they have had direct contact with before—I can hear the items voicing their owner's thoughts. The day of my grandma's funeral, I clutch the emerald bracelet she wore for over 30 years and hear it shout, "The house mustn't go to Michael! He hit me!" Michael? That's my uncle's name, and right now, he's bawling his eyes out in front of Grandma's casket, seemingly grieving even harder than everyone else.

My family hates me for causing my brother's death. From then on, I become a child no one loves. Meanwhile, my cousin, Evelyn Green, who looks like my brother, becomes the apple of my parents' eyes. From the age of ten to 18, my days are a cycle of beatings and forced apologies. On my 18th birthday, Evelyn wears a gorgeous gown and basks in everyone's adoration, while I'm shoved around in a maid's uniform and hit like I'm not even human. In my darkest moment, Morgan Oakley, the mafia boss, saves me. He takes me home, and step by step, wins his way into my heart. Because of him, I learn what love can feel like. He treats me like a treasure and promises me forever. However, on the day we're supposed to register our marriage, he keeps me waiting for a whole day and night. He never shows up. As I'm about to leave, my phone starts buzzing. A text from Morgan pops up. "Jasmine, I'm sorry. I ran into an enemy and couldn't make it to the city hall. A storm's coming, so make sure you get home quick!" My heart clenches in panic. I'm about to text back and ask if he's okay when Evelyn's message comes right after his. "Jasmine, I'm the one he loves. He skipped marrying you today because of me. You must be devastated, right?" Then, she sends a video. In it, Morgan holds her gently, his voice soft as he comforts her. "Evie, don't cry. You once saved my life, so I'll do anything for you. If you don't want me to marry Jasmine, then I won't. I love you. I only took her in so I could keep her close. That way, she'd be right there when you needed blood." My parents were off to the side. They chimed in tenderly, "Don't cry, Evie. Morgan loves you. He only pursued Jasmine because of your condition. You have a coagulation disorder and need transfusions of Rh-negative blood whenever you get hurt." I stagger back when I hear that, dropping my phone to the ground. So, Morgan's sudden passion is laced with poison. He only pretends to love me just so he can turn me into Evelyn's walking blood bank! Everyone goes to so much trouble to hide the truth from me just so Evelyn doesn't need to suffer from her condition! Rain mixes with my tears as they slide down my face. I stare at my phone on the pavement as bitterness floods me. A thought forms—I want to leave them forever. I want to disappear so they'll never find me again.

Just because I left a window cracked for half an hour, my younger brother caught a cold and ran a raging fever in the middle of the night. Enraged, Mom locked me inside a freezing, thirty-below cellar. "How on earth did I give birth to a cold-blooded monster like you?! You won't be happy until you've killed your own brother, will you?! Since you love the cold so much, get your butt down there and cool off!" Down in the dark, I sobbed and begged Mom for mercy, but the biting cold slowly drained every bit of warmth from my body. Mom didn't care in the slightest. "I'm starving you for three whole days to teach you a lesson! This is what you get for being a jealous brat!" My brother's fever broke the very next morning. To make it up to him, Mom took him on a three-day trip to an amusement park. When Mom finally came back, standing at the top of the cellar to demand if I had learned my lesson, all she received was endless, deafening silence. Because I had already been dead for three days.

For six months, I pick through trash to scrape together enough money to buy Mom a beautiful dress for her birthday. I can't wait to give it to her. But the moment I hand her the dress, her gentle smile vanishes. She screams, shoves me to the floor, and grabs a chair. She brings it down on me again and again. "Did that monster put you up to this? Did he tell you to give me this dress just to hurt me? You've got his blood in your veins! I should've known you'd turn on me!" She beats me until I'm barely breathing, then runs out of the house, leaving me alone on the cold floor. As my vision blurs, a book suddenly opens before my eyes. That's when I learn the truth. I'm the tragic male lead in a dark novel. The story has that monster force himself on Mom just to give me a miserable childhood. I'm the reason her whole life was ruined. I smile and reach toward the glowing pages with a bloodied hand. I'll save Mom, even if it means I was never born.