Scumbag Family Emotions Short Stories & Novels

My daughter, Clara Williams, turned seven today. We played a simple game to celebrate. The rule was easy. I would start a sentence, and she would finish it. It was a popular trend designed to see if a child was being criticized. "First sentence," I said, leaning over the table. "Look at the other kids…" I waited, a warm smile on my face. I had never raised my voice at her. I spent years protecting her world, building her confidence brick by brick. I knew she was happy. Her soft voice shattered that illusion instantly. "They are so much better than you," she said, reciting the words by heart. "You aren't even worth a single hair on Lily's head." Lily. She was the daughter of Donald Williams’ ex-girlfriend, Valerie Thompson. My chest tightened. The air left my lungs all at once. It took everything I had to swallow the lump in my throat and move to the second prompt. "What do you have to complain about?" "Lily is younger than you," my daughter cut in, her voice small. "You have to give up everything for her." She looked up at me nervously. Her little hands twisted the hem of her shirt under the table. I squeezed my eyes shut, forcing down the sudden surge of nausea. I took a slow breath and tried sentence three. "You've grown up already…" "Go to parent-teacher conferences by yourself," she answered, looking at the floor. "I have to play family games with Lily." I stopped. I couldn't bring myself to ask another question. The cold truth was sitting right in front of me, but I was still clinging to a tiny shred of hope. "Sweetheart," I whispered. "Who told you those things?" "Daddy did." She caught the change in my tone and panicked. She quickly blew out the birthday candles, trying to lighten the mood. She closed her eyes tightly, making a wish out loud. "I wish I can be a better girl. Then Dad will be happy, and he will treat Mommy better." The last candle flickered and died. Darkness crept over the room. My illusion collapsed right along with it. I thought I was shielding my little girl from the monsters of the world. I never guessed her own father, Donald Williams, was the biggest among the monsters.

After a wild month of partying across half the world, I unexpectedly found out that I was pregnant. I flew home overnight to surprise my husband, only to find a new nanny had moved into our house. Before I could say a word, she slapped me across the face. "What's a vixen like you doing here?" she snapped, fierce and full of herself. "Get out! This is my daughter's house! Out, out, out!" My hand froze halfway to dialing 911. I shot back instead, "Who's your daughter?" She settled onto the leather sofa I'd bought, crossed her legs smugly, and said, "My daughter is Paige Griffin, and her husband is Bradley Ford, Morlene City's hottest new rising star. Did you hear that clearly, or are your ears just for show?" My head started buzzing. I looked down at the wall-sized print of my wedding photo with Bradley and let out a bitter laugh. If her daughter was Bradley's wife, then who did that make me? Me, the proud daughter of Morlene City's richest man, had been reduced to being someone's mistress?

My fiancé Felix Morgan’s secretary Claire believed in tarot the way other people believed in gravity. The first time she met me, she threw a glass of water in my face. Without missing a beat, she explained to Felix, "You have an important client today. The cards say that if your lover wears makeup, it will ruin your luck." I assumed Felix would punish her for it. Instead, he turned to me. "Audrey, go take it off. The client comes first." After that, she only got bolder. On our anniversary, she said Felix would face bloodshed or even death if he saw me that day. So I did not see Felix once all day. When we planned our pre-wedding shoot, she said I would bring Felix bad luck that year. The photo shoot I had spent weeks planning was quietly canceled. I fought with Felix about it more times than I could count. And every time, he gave me the same self-righteous speech: "Claire is an extremely dedicated secretary. Everything she does is for me and for the company. The more I earn, the better the life I can give you!" Then I found out I was pregnant. Claire said, "This baby was conceived at an unlucky time. It will hold Felix's career back." Felix did not hesitate for a second. "Get rid of it. Claire wouldn't steer me wrong. There will be other babies. We'll have Claire pick a good time later." Something inside me finally broke. I put a hand on my stomach. Fine. Then this baby wouldn't carry the Morgan name.

A body was pulled from the sea, waterlogged and swollen. The woman was two months pregnant. Her face was unrecognizable, but I recognized the ring I had given her immediately. The dead woman was my daughter, Cecily Moretti. I had once been the most powerful Mafia Donna on the West Coast, with enemies everywhere. To protect Cecily, I staged a shipwreck ten years ago. I jumped into the sea clutching a doll and faked my own death. I left her in the care of the Griffiths family, whose son I had chosen to be her husband. I gave them money, power, and every advantage so my daughter could live a peaceful, happy life. But my investigation uncovered the truth. Five years after I disappeared, Cecily's intended husband, Selwyn Griffiths, fell in love with Iliana Valmont, the daughter of a noble family. "Donna, Selwyn broke his promise to marry Ms. Cecily. He also believed Iliana's lies and had Ms. Cecily tied to a reef as punishment. The abrasions on her wrists and ankles suggest she struggled to free herself as the tide came in. Then... then a wave swept her out to sea." As my lieutenant gave his report, my fingernails dug into my palms. I had lifted the Griffiths family to the top, yet my beloved daughter had been treated worse than a slave! Fighting back my grief, I slowly wrapped my hand around Cecily's scarred fingers. "Rest now, Cecily. I swear I'll avenge you."

I'd been married to Cecil Smith for eight years. He was the youngest wedding planner in the country, yet our own wedding had been thrown together in a rush. I'd asked him about it many times. Each time, he'd take my hand and say the same thing. "Nora, once I make it into the Best of Weddings Hall of Fame, I'll give you a wedding the whole city will talk about. "I'll make sure everyone knows you're the wife I'd do anything for." He said it like he meant it, so I believed him. I gladly stayed up late rewriting proposals with him and worked alongside him on-site. When he needed cash to keep the business going, I sold the house my mother had left me. My coworkers would see how worn out I was and smile at me with a hint of mockery. "Mrs. Smith is so lucky. With a husband like Mr. Smith, who knows how spectacular that wedding is going to be." "Once the photos are up, we're all going to be very jealous of you." Then, on the day Cecil finally made the Hall of Fame, everyone crowded around a phone and gasped. He'd posted a photo on Instagram from a snow-covered mountain. It showed two passports and a wedding gown. Everyone assumed he'd finally taken me abroad for our bridal photo shoot. That was when I walked into the office with my suitcase. They stared for a few seconds. Then the questions came, their voices oddly hesitant. "Mrs. Smith, what are you still doing here?" "Don't tell me you weren't the woman Mr. Smith took with him."