Familial Bond Workplace Short Stories & Novels

My younger brother, Oliver Lawson, calls me out of the blue and tells me that he wishes to transfer 30% of his company's shares to my name. "Daphne, you've helped me out far too much over the years. Now that my company is making profits, it's only fair that you receive these shares." Feeling quite surprised, I rush to OIiver's company. The paperwork is already laid out on the desk. Suddenly, live comments appear in front of my eyes. "Don't sign those documents! These aren't dividend shares! Instead, they are management shares, which makes you take on the company's debts! "Oliver's company can no longer pay off its debts! Once you sign the documents, you'll become the jointly and severally liable party! The 30-million-dollar debt will be saddled on your shoulders! "Your house, savings, as well as your daughter's school-district property will be seized by the court!" I hold the pen, yet I make no move to do anything with it. Oliver smiles as he pats me on the back of my hand. "What are you staring at, Daphne? Once you're done signing, you have to treat me to a nice meal, you know!" As soon as his hand touches mine, I hear his voice echoing in my mind. "Daphne has had it too difficult in this lifetime. After the divorce, she has been raising Emma all by herself. I've always wanted to give her something to help improve her life. "The dividends for the next quarter come to at least 100 thousand dollars. That should be enough for Daphne to clear her house mortgage. "Our parents left us far too early in life, leaving us to rely on each other. If I don't treat her well, who else will?" I can only hold the pen, feeling my fingers going cold. Who should I believe?

I have always been fair to my sons, but Tim, the eldest, always complains that I'm never fair to him. It's unfair for him that I stopped him from eating seafood because of his allergies. It's unfair for him when my husband and I refused to take him to the amusement park, when his brother was bleeding profusely after a bad fall. It's unfair for him that we didn't buy the exact same shirt as Joe's because he wasn't the same size. As long as I don't do what he wants, he will keep calling me unfair. Later, he brought home a delinquent, saying she's his fiancee. When I refused to give them my blessing, he took to the internet, complaining that I was a control freak and I had been unfair for years. The internet canceled us. Joe lost his job, while my husband and I were killed as a crazed netizen crashed his car into us. When I opened my eyes again, I had returned to the day when Tim first brought Nana home. This time, I decided to give him everything wanted. So why did he regret everything?

The day the clients I'd referred to my brother Dennis Bevan's building-materials plant passed the million-dollar mark in purchases, I, Toby Bevan, picked out two bottles of Macallan to celebrate, the same as always. But the moment I stepped through the door, my brother's son, Jasper Bevan, burst out laughing. "Well, look who it is. The freeloader's back! "Two bottles of booze and he thinks he's earned his cut. Talk about getting something for nothing." I looked at the four relatives in the room. Not one of them spoke up for me. They all kept their heads down, as if they agreed with him. For years, I'd been sending clients their way in exchange for a ten percent commission. It was written into our contracts, and it hadn't changed in all that time. "Is that how you all feel?" I asked, sweeping my gaze over them. Dennis gave an awkward laugh. "Toby, sure, back when the plant was starting out, we relied on you for clients. But business has finally taken off, and you've been collecting a cut for nothing all these years. So, you know..." My second sister, Lucy Bevan, chimed in. "We aren't short on business partners anymore. Honestly, these days, you're the one relying on us." In other words, they were saying I didn't deserve my cut. Fine. If that was how they felt, I'd pull every last client.

I opened a restaurant in an alley, and business was booming. When the lease expired, I took the initiative to talk to the landlord about renewing it. The landlord, Jasper Smith, crossed his legs and said, “My dear Flynn, my dear little nephew Harvey Jordan, wants to open a restaurant too. So, this place would be perfect for him. “He thinks your food is delicious, so he went out of his way to learn all the recipes for your dishes and soups. Come to think of it, he has you to thank for your careful guidance!” The blood rushed to my head. Harvey Jordan had kept his relationship with Jasper from me and worked at my restaurant for half a year. He had stolen my recipes, and he was trying to kick me out to steal my customers? I was furious. “Mr. Smith, isn’t this going a bit too far?” Jasper slammed his hand on the table. “The shop lot is mine. I’m free to rent it to whomever I want! Clear everything out before the lease expires!” I laughed through gritted teeth. “Are you sure you want to go down this road?” I had a secret blend of spices that I had never shared with anyone. Without it, my soups would become increasingly bitter the longer they boiled. Harvey had only learned some surface knowledge. He had yet to grasp the soul of it. I was interested to see how he would manage running a restaurant without its soul.

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.”

On my way home after a night shift, my wife, Lilian Jones, the associate chief of neurosurgery, suddenly called. "Honey, Garrett Lowe in Room 9 has suffered a ruptured cerebral aneurysm. You're the only surgeon in the hospital who can perform this operation. Come back now!" In my previous life, I did not hesitate. I made a U-turn and sped back to the hospital. However, by the time I burst into the operating room, Garrett was already dead on the table. Right in front of his family and the entire surgical team, Lilian slapped me across the face and insisted that my surgical error had cost Garrett his life. The hospital immediately suspended me from clinical duties, stripped me of my position as an attending neurosurgeon, and suspended my medical license for six months. Three days later, Garrett's family ambushed me outside the emergency department and stabbed me to death in broad daylight. Only after I died did I learn the truth. To give surgical resident Ethan Smith a chance to gain hands-on experience, Lilian violated hospital protocol and allowed him to take the lead in the operation. His inexperience cost Garrett his life, and I was nothing more than the scapegoat they sacrificed to cover it up. Less than a week after my funeral, the two of them moved in together openly. A few years later, they even became the hospital's model couple, admired and envied by everyone. "The patient's already under anesthesia, and the OR is fully prepped. Where are you?" Lilian's voice came through the phone again in this life, her barely concealed panic impossible to miss. I fell silent for a moment before answering in a hoarse voice, "Okay. I'll be right there."

The day my mother, Dahlia Moone, gives birth to my younger brother, she goes into obstructed labor and suffers a catastrophic hemorrhage. My CEO father, Graham Kovane, orders every doctor and nurse out of the delivery room because his mistress, Selena Langford, says, "Her crying is giving me a headache." That day, both Mom and my unborn brother die. Not long after, I'm framed for a mistake I never made, driven out of the family, and left to survive on the streets. Living on the kindness of strangers, I fight my way up from nothing. Step by step, I rise until I become the head of Rockstone Tech, controlling a fortune worth billions. On the day of the annual evaluation for promoting interns to full-time employees, five candidate files are placed on my desk. My assistant, Ingrid Nelson, taps the file at the top of the stack, her voice full of admiration. "Ms. Campbell, Monica Kovane is exceptionally capable. Her performance has earned full marks from every department manager." I open Monica's profile, and my eyes stop on the family information section. Even in the worst of times, I will never forget those two names on the paper. After a long silence, I tell Ingrid to bring all five interns into my office. The employment contracts are handed out one by one. When only the last person remains, I look up and meet her confident gaze. She's almost certain the position is already hers. Calmly, I slide a termination letter across the desk. "Unfortunately, Ms. Kovane, you didn't pass."

Our company was having a team building event in the Huka Islands, where every employee would get their own room. As I prepared to check in, my colleague from the same department, Yvonne Caruso, suddenly snatched my ID from my hand. "The rooms are full. The rest of you should find another hotel." I did not say anything much but took my ID back to hand it to the employee working behind the front desk. "One room, please. Thank you." However, Yvonne pushed me away viciously and berated me, "I told you to get lost. Are you deaf?!" I was not prepared for it, and I hit the corner of the front desk hard. I felt a sharp pain in my waist and immediately lost my temper. Yvonne was infuriated when I pushed her back, and she roared at me, "How dare you push me! My dad is the real boss behind this company. He's the Don of the Carusos. Cross me and you won't even see it coming when you die!" I was taken aback and broke out with laughter a second later. The Don of the Carusos, Ian Caruso, was my father. Why did I have no idea that he had another daughter apart from me?

At the Alpha Summit, my younger brother Felix accused me in front of everyone. "I grew up crushed under my older sister's thumb. If I so much as ate a piece of candy, she'd pry my mouth open and dig it out." I swirled the red wine in my glass and gave a cold laugh. "That wasn't candy. It was a pill made from wolfsbane. If I hadn't saved you, you wouldn't even have the chance to stand here talking to me." Felix's face froze. Refusing to give up, he said, "When our cousin Toby came to stay with us, you gave him every single moonstone I'd worked so hard to find. I'm your own brother, and you played favorites with someone else?" I sighed. "Your cousin had it rough. A big fire burned his family's house to the ground." "What does that have to do with me? Just because he had it rough, I'm supposed to give in to him every time?" "You set that fire." The room went dead silent. The reporters hammered their shutter buttons, capturing Felix looking as if he'd swallowed something foul. "Well, didn't I find him a job afterward? I went out of my way to help him, but the second you found out, you beat me up. Do you have any idea how badly that scarred my fragile young heart?" His eyes reddened as he spoke, while the memory made my blood boil all over again. "You shipped your cousin off to work in a mine in the Wastelands. How is that any different from exile? "You locked him into a five-year contract when you sent him there, so he's still serving hard labor in the Wastelands. You're telling me you didn't deserve that beating?" The viewers watching the livestream didn't know whether to laugh or cry. [Poor Toby. He still hasn't escaped that family?] [See, no beating is ever wasted.] [Just get a new brother. This one's a lost cause.]

It was my parents' twenty-fifth wedding anniversary. The whole family kept it from me and took my adopted sister Evelyn to the most expensive Italian restaurant in New York. My older brother Luca raised his glass. "Evelyn wants to study business management. I'll introduce her to the right people." My younger brother Noah handed her a gift. "This bracelet suits you, sis." My mother put the sapphire earrings my grandmother had left me in her ears, smiling. "Evelyn, with us here, you'll never have to be afraid of anything again." My father nodded. "You need these more than Leah does. She's had it good her whole life. It's only right that she gives way to you." I stood in the cold wind outside the restaurant, looking down at the family photo on my phone. In it, all five of them were beaming. No one noticed that one person was missing. Me. Suddenly I understood. They hadn't forgotten me. They had simply never seen me as someone who needed to be chosen. In that case, I didn't want them either. I applied to the school farthest from home. From now on, they were them. And I was me. Later, when I'd made a name, made money, and found my footing on my own, they came looking for me with their bills.

Everyone in my family knew me as a tattletale. I had one simple rule in life—I refused to endure even the tiniest bit of unfairness. When I was three, my uncle sneaked a slice of my apple pie. That night, I marched straight to my grandpa's bedside, burst into tears, and told him exactly what had happened. The next morning, my uncle ended up getting whacked by Grandpa with his cane, under the excuse that he had left the house without saying goodbye. By the time I was eight, I had learned that Christmas was another excellent opportunity to report suspicious behavior. When my cousin secretly stuffed all the presents into the cabinet, I immediately went to my aunt and whispered the whole story in her ear. Not only did my cousin get a serious lecture, but my aunt also searched the house from top to bottom until every hidden present had been found. After that, Dad established one very important family rule—no one was allowed to steal food in front of me, hide anything from the family, or, most importantly, give me a reason to start talking. After college, I joined my family's company without revealing who I really was. Mom held my hand, looking deeply worried. "There are all kinds of people at that company. Just sit back and watch the show. Keep a low profile. And whatever you do, keep your mouth shut. Stop running to your brother with every little complaint. Give him a few peaceful days, will you?" For the first three months, everyone at the company assumed I was a nobody they could push around. That changed when an intern named Lena Rogers joined the company. She stole my proposal, slapped her own name on it, and presented it as if she had come up with the whole thing herself. "A nobody with no connections thinks she can compete with me for a full-time position?" she sneered. "My brother is the CEO of this company!" The manager beside her immediately nodded along, practically bending over backward to please her. "Once your brother takes over the company, people like you at the bottom will all be packing their things and leaving." I remembered Mom's warning and kept my mouth firmly shut. I did not say a word. However, just because my mouth was shut did not mean my hands could not type. I immediately sent my brother a message: [Hey, your sister just said that once you take over the company, she's going to make me pack my things and leave.]

The day I got the callback for my second interview, my mother, Sara Bingley, came home with two bags. "You're about to start your job for real, and that means dressing professionally. I bought you girls a suit each, one for each of you, fair and square." Molly Pitcher happily took her bag. Inside was a fitted, deep navy suit, sharp and clearly not cheap. What landed in my hands was an ill-fitting black suit pulled from the clearance rack, so oversized the sleeves swallowed the backs of my hands. Mom smiled and touched my cheek. "Cathy, you'll still grow. I bought it big on purpose. Give it two years, and it'll fit just right. I went to I don't know how many malls just to track down that black suit." She did love me, in her way. She knew my job required a black suit, and she really had gone to several malls to find one. But she'd forgotten I was already twenty-three. No amount of growing was going to fill out a suit that oversized and that cheaply made. Both daughters were her own flesh and blood, but Molly was plainly the one she doted on. The love she gave me came measured out in careful portions. The love she gave Molly overflowed. If that was how it was going to be, then from today on, I was done being the extra one in this family.

Everyone in our neighborhood knew me as the meek full-time housewife. I had no income and no social life. Every hour of every day went to the kitchen, my child, and my hypercritical mother-in-law, Sofia Carter. Yet when I woke up, I had somehow swapped bodies with my insufferably smug husband, Kevin Carter. My phone lit up as he sent one mocking message after another: [Olivia, you act like having a baby entitles you to lie around at home all day, watch the kid, and throw together a couple of meals.] [For your information, this swap is permanent. I can finally get some rest.] [Don't run your mouth at my office. That management job is way beyond what a brain that never even made it through college can handle.] When I finished reading, I stared at the stubble-covered man in the bathroom mirror and burst into tearful laughter. He had no idea. My meekness and numbness had been bought with my health. From the day I married him, I never got more than five hours of sleep. At twenty-two, I suffered a severe hemorrhage during a difficult delivery. At twenty-four, I developed severe tendinitis. At twenty-six, after years of exhaustion and Sofia grinding me down, I was diagnosed with moderate depression. To him, I was never a wife. I was a live-in maid he didn't have to pay, someone he could take his temper out on whenever he pleased.

I spent three years studying like my life depended on it before I finally earned a government job. Then, on my first week there, I saw a familiar face. My cousin. The same cousin I’d met at that awkward family reunion back home. Somehow, he had gotten hired by the same department. A few days later, at a family dinner, he made his move. With my uncle sitting right there at the head of the table, acting every bit like the important city official he was, my cousin shoved a classified file into my hands. The pages had clearly been tampered with. Before I could say a word, he let out a sharp cry and dropped to the floor. The file spilled open across the tile. “Ethan!” he shouted, his voice trembling with fake disbelief. “That’s confidential government material! How could you steal it and show it to outsiders? Was the finder’s fee really worth selling us out?” My uncle slammed his hand on the table and stood up, his face dark with rage. He said he would not protect family at the cost of justice. He said he would fire me on the spot and report me to the higher-ups himself. That was when a string of floating comments appeared in front of my eyes. [This cousin is painfully stupid. Does he seriously not know the male lead was brought in from above as the head of the internal inspection team? He’s here to investigate him.] [And the uncle is still acting. Hilarious. The inspection team’s car is literally about to pull up outside.] I read the comments, then calmly lifted my teacup and took a slow sip. Across from me, my cousin was still trying to look loyal and outraged. I set the cup down and smiled. “You’re right about one thing. This file is confidential.” His eyes lit up. Then I added, “But you changed the wrong section.” The color drained from his face. I turned to my uncle. “And Uncle, didn’t you just say you’d put justice before family?” I pushed back my chair and stood. “Great. Then come with me to the Special Investigations Unit and explain how many people you’ve illegally helped into the department over the years.” My cousin stared at me, completely stunned. He had fought so hard to get into public service. He had no idea I was the one sent to clean it up.

I was the youngest daughter of the wealthy Sutton family, and everyone knew me as a fool. I had been quiet and dull since I was little, and I could barely get a word out. However, everyone else in the Sutton family was exceptional. My older brother, Julian Sutton, took the world of high finance by storm at 18 years old. My older sister, Yara Sutton, earned two doctorates at the age of 20. My parents simply couldn't believe I was really their daughter. They had 18 DNA tests done and consulted every renowned doctor and expert they could find. After more than a decade of trying, my whole family finally gave up. The truth was, I could speak. I just didn't want to. In my previous life, I was a star lawyer who had never lost a case. I had said all I needed to say back then. In this life, I only wanted to quietly live as someone who never spoke. That was until today, when Sutton Group was hit by a hostile short-selling attack and faced bankruptcy. Our rival showed up at the company with an acquisition agreement. My dad, Richard Sutton, looked grim. Julian went through every clause and couldn't find a flaw. Even Steven Gould, the attorney our family had paid a fortune to retain for ten years, had already been bought off. At that moment, Steven put on a look of righteousness. "Mr. Sutton, just sign it. This is the only way to protect your family. I checked the contract. There's nothing wrong with it." Dad let out a long sigh and shakily picked up his pen. I was getting annoyed listening to all this nonsense, and I couldn't keep pretending. As my whole family stared in shock, I walked over and flipped the agreement to page three. I said, "The main agreement and its attachments have conflicting jurisdiction clauses. If you sign this, the Sutton family will walk away with nothing and still be left with billions in debt." I looked at Steven with a smile that never reached my eyes. "Mr. Gould, it looks like you don't do much online shopping. Those discounts are pretty extreme."

The day my parents skipped town with my younger sister, Tiana Miller, they used me as collateral to pay off their debts. "The kid's got a screw loose," my mother told the debt collectors, gesturing dismissively toward me. "Always hugging books and mumbling nonsense like an idiot. Take her if you want her. If not, sell her for all I care." Tiana's bright, cheerful laughter drifted up from the stairwell. "Mom, isn't Sylvia coming with us?" "Be a good girl. We're leaving her behind." I had heard those words a million times. Ever since Tiana was born, everyone in our house revolved around her. When I ran over just to take a look at the baby, my mother shoved me away. "Don't touch your sister. Your hands are filthy." From that moment on, I was the extra piece nobody wanted. When the loan shark kicked my front door open, he found me huddled in the corner reading a massive textbook on criminal law. "Kid, your parents bolted," the boss sneered, looking down at me. "How do you plan to pay off their debt?" I calmly closed the book. "Mister, I analyzed the voice recordings of your strong-arm collection tactics. “Twelve parts of them can easily be argued down to civil disputes. If you follow my strategy, you can avoid prison time entirely." He froze. In less than an hour, I broke down their past three years of criminal records piece by piece and drafted legal loopholes for them. The heavily tattooed kingpin assistant, Hanks Phil, stared at the paperwork, his jaw dropping before he let out a sharp curse. "I've been in the underworld for twenty-six damn years, and today's the first time I'm learning you can actually collect debts legally.”