Familial Bond Short Stories & Scumbag Regret Novels

I was the biological son the Rhodes family had spent years searching for. Upon our reunion, all I wanted was to feel accepted. I learned to agree with everything they asked of me, no matter how unreasonable it sounded. Whenever they gave me an order, I followed it. I never questioned them. One afternoon, Reagan Rhodes, the boy who had lived as the Rhodes family's son in my absence, glanced at me and snarled in disgust. "You smell awful. Why don't you get inside the sterilization chamber and disinfect yourself?" I turned toward the industrial machine without hesitation. I stepped inside the chamber, closed the door behind me, and started the machine. My mom discovered me before it was too late. In a panic, she forced the door open and pulled me out herself. My entire body was burning, and my skin had turned an alarming shade of red. Jasmin Rhodes, my older sister, showed no sympathy when she saw me. Instead, she was visibly irritated. "Who are you trying to fool with this act? If you're serious about dying, just take an entire bottle of sleeping pills." I remembered every word. That night, I found a bottle of sleeping pills and swallowed it whole. Jasmin eventually kicked open my bedroom door. By then, I was no longer breathing. She stood frozen beside the bed, staring at my cold body while her hands shook uncontrollably. Some time later, Reagan slipped and scraped his leg. It was a minor injury, yet Jasmin immediately lost her temper with me. "If that leaves a scar on Reagan's leg, you'd better be ready to cut a piece of flesh off your own thigh to make up for it!" I grabbed a shard of broken glass nearby, pressed its sharp edge against my thigh, and cut into my flesh. My parents rushed inside moments later, screaming in horror at the sight of this. Jasmin threw herself at me and snatched the glass shard from my hand before I could continue. "I spoke in a fit of anger! I didn't actually mean it! Why would you even listen to me?" None of them understood what seven years in the mountains had done to me. Back then, defying an order never meant getting scolded or losing a few privileges. Disobedience had only one consequence: death.

After my younger brother, Dylan Whitaker, forged a college acceptance letter, swindled our family out of $30,000 in tuition money, and ran away, he vanished without a trace. My parents, Patricia and Thomas Whitaker, searched for him relentlessly until the stress took a toll on their health, leaving them unable to work. With no other choice, I used my savings to open a small convenience store for them. By the end of 2023, the pressure had become unbearable, so I chose to work overtime instead of going home for the holidays. Just as I finished my shift in the early hours of the morning, Mom called. “Your father’s heart condition has flared up. He needs surgery. How much money do you have left? Send it over to save your dad. We’ll pay you back once we’ve saved enough.” My heart sank. “Which hospital is Dad at? I’ll come home right now.” Silence stretched over the line for several seconds before Mom finally stammered, “There’s... there’s only one hospital in Fairview. Where else could he be? And what good would it do for you to come back? Just transfer the money first. Your father really can’t wait any longer!” Impossible. Fairview Community Hospital wasn’t even equipped to perform heart surgery.

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.

The study-abroad list went up on the department bulletin board. Kevin's name sat at the top of the sponsored students column. Mine was stuck in the alternate slot. In front of the whole class, he waved it off like it was nothing. "I'm not going. Can't even afford it." The spot slid down to me. "Congrats, Nathan! You snagged the last public-funded spot!" Classmates crowded around to offer their congratulations. My advisor turned to my parents with a clasped-hand gesture. "Professor Reed, Professor Turner—congratulations! You must be so proud of your boy!" I took the acceptance letter, my chest swelling as I looked at three years of blood, sweat, and late nights finally paying off. Then my mom reached over, plucked it right out of my hands, and passed it straight to Kevin. She grabbed my arm, her face all twisted up with regret. "Kevin's the kid we sponsor—his parents can't afford to send him anywhere. This is his one shot to go abroad. You're our flesh and blood. You need to be the bigger person here and let him have it." Kevin clutched the letter, dropped to his knees with a thud, and thanked her. I stared at that letter—the one that decided my future—and thought about every single night I'd pulled all-nighters over the last three years. They handed my future over to someone else. Fine. If that's how they want to play it, then I don't want this family anymore.

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.

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.

I've raised my son, Caleb Bennett, for nine years, but today I found out he was never mine. Claire Bennett, my wife, shamelessly tells me to leave with nothing. She says Caleb's real father is Lincoln Lancaster, heir to the most powerful family in Berglaton. The Lancaster family has few direct heirs left, so if Lincoln acknowledges Caleb as his son, Lincoln can easily surpass his frail uncle and become the rightful successor. Caleb says, "You think you deserve to be my dad? My real father could crush your whole family with a snap of his fingers!" Margaret Quigley, Claire's mother, adds, "If Claire hadn't gotten pregnant with Lincoln's child back then, do you really think we'd have let someone like you marry into our family?" I don't fight back. I just sign the divorce papers in silence. After that, I take out my phone and call my father, James Lancaster, who has been waiting for me in Berglaton all these years. "Come pick me up on Christmas Eve," I say. "I'm ready to go home and take over the family."

I was growing up as the much-hated "fake heiress" in a wealthy family, and my life took a devastating turn after my death. My childhood friend who lived next door leaked my nudes online, branding me as manipulative and promiscuous. This ignited public outrage, with strangers celebrating my demise at my family's home. My parents, eager to sever any connection with me, destroyed our mansion that very night, even going so far as to feed my ashes to the dog. Everyone said I deserved it. On the day the true heiress married my childhood friend in a grand, live-streamed wedding, I gave them a unique wedding present from beyond the grave.

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 I was six, I eagerly asked Mom when she was going to give me a little sister. Her heart softened, and she said yes. But on the day she gave birth, she suffered an amniotic fluid embolism and died on the operating table, along with my unborn sister. From then on, Dad hated me with everything he had. He screamed at me hysterically, "If you hadn't kept begging for a sister, your mom wouldn't be dead! Why couldn't it have been you instead?" I knelt on the floor, sobbing out an apology. "I'm sorry, Dad! I was wrong! I'll never want a little sister again!" Dad stormed out and slammed the door behind him. He never came back. After three days without food, I called and begged him to bring me something to eat. He sounded completely fed up. "Isn't there flour in the kitchen? Eat some flour. You'll live." I couldn't find any flour, only a small bottle of powder. So I ate that. Soon, a twisting pain tore through my stomach. I collapsed, and everything went dark. Trembling, I made one last call to Dad. The moment he picked up, I smiled through my tears. "Dad, I think I can go be with Mom now..."

My mother is a mission runner, and I'm the mess she left behind. When she completed her mission to win Dad over, she disappeared without hesitation and dumped the rest of the mission on me. According to the system, my task is simple. All I need is for Dad to wish me a "happy birthday" when I turn eight. Yet, my birthday is only a month away, and he won't even come home. Ever since Mom vanished without a trace, Dad started looking at me differently. No matter what I do, he assumes it's another trick she planned before she left. When I'm running a high fever, I call him, only to discover that he's at another woman's birthday party. The call connects, and before I can say a word, laughter and cheering pour through the phone. "Dad, I feel awful," I croak. "My birthday's next week…" The other end of the line went silent for a few seconds before his cold voice cuts in. "Penelope, if you need money, just ask my assistant, Henry. You know I hate it when people fake being sick to get what they want, especially when they're only after a birthday present."

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.

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.