A Case Of Identity Novels & Stories

“What on earth is going on with the Jameson family? First, they come back from the dead, and now, these two girls are fighting over the same identity? “For such a well-known, respectable family, this mess is ridiculous. It’s laughable!” I ignored my parents’ furious glares, pulled out my ID card from my pocket, and held it up. “I think this is proof enough of who I am.”

But I was glad that we had been able to prove my identity and put their fears to rest. As we left, I couldn't help but reflect on the old woman's words. She may have been sceptical, but she was also smart. She knew that our identity was something that could never be faked by an imposter. And that was a comforting thought, knowing that even during chaos and uncertainty, our identity and our place in the world would always remain true.

It seemed like a platinum ring engraved with three dot-sized diamonds. "Anything else? ID, mobile or wallet?" "No, nothing else to recognise your identity." She replied and moved a little forward, "Do you recall something? Anything that can be useful to find your family or your identity?" 'Leo'... That's the only possibility that came to my head. But, it's not something useful at the moment. Whilst talking to myself this random name appeared in my head. I am not even sure if this had something to do with me. Moreover, apart from my identity, one important thing was the way I discovered myself. Brutally injured, It felt like I was assassinated.

"Identity isn't what you're born with. It's not biology. It's not genetics. It's not automatic inheritance. Identity is what you choose. Who you decide to become. What you make of the raw materials you're given. That's everything." "Some of us are born into good families. Supportive. Loving. Safe. Some of us aren't. Some of us have to find family. Build family. Choose family. I'm in the second category. I was born to one family. I found another. Both are real. But only one is truly mine. The one I chose. The one that chose me."

What did she do wrong? “I’m just trying to take my identity card back.” Amid the silence, she gradually opened her mouth to say. Her gravelly voice perfectly masked the choking emotions in her voice. She hung her head and closed her eyes, forcing back the sourness in her eyes and bitterness in her mouth… ‘Sean Stewart, I’m just trying to take my identity card back. To take back the evidence that proves I’m still alive. ‘Have you tried walking in my shoes? ‘Have you experienced that pathetic feeling when only a single identity card in this entire world can prove who you are? When even this one and only proof of your identity isn’t by your side, then that’s not pathetic anymore. That’s insecur

Nicki and Fred gave me the most perfect goddaughter a year after their marriage, a compensation for writing my life story as a script and winning awards because the movie became a bestseller. I haven’t heard from David. I think he left the country with Anne. Dude almost fainted when my real identity came out. Yes, four years ago, I came completely clean. My dad came up with the perfect story for it: I was doing an undercover that required my identity to be hidden within the school. I suddenly became the hero. But the best part? Idris got to experience the real deal. Smith made sure of that. I still call him that sometimes. Just last month, he bagged his certificate and wouldn’t go anywhere w

Not because it couldn’t grow faster— But because it chose To grow correctly. And that choice, Repeated enough times, Becomes identity.

He knew it — not abstractly but specifically, in the body, in the way you knew things that had been true about yourself. "The public record is not the identity," he said. "The public record is the evidence. The identity is what you build after." He paused. "I'm known as the person who built the case against the Meridian. That's the public record. But my identity — who I actually am — is the person who built the foundation. Who grows garlic. Who makes coffee for someone every morning. Who planted a wisteria in Cardiff in February." He held Adrian's gaze. "The public record is a fraction of the identity. The fraction that the system needs. The rest — the rest is the life. And the life is the t

“I am not.” ⸻ Both statements— ⸻ true. ⸻ Both statements— ⸻ hers. ⸻ Back in the control room— no one spoke. ⸻ Because they understood something now. ⸻ This wasn’t a system error. ⸻ This wasn’t a malfunction. ⸻ This was identity. ⸻ And it couldn’t be forced. ⸻ Back in the system— Aria focused inward. ⸻ Not on solving.

He would live, but he would be less than a man. The authorities, digging into the street ‘accident’, found evidence. Witnesses paid off, cart driver coerced. Marcus was arrested from his hospital bed, charged with the orchestrated death of his unborn child. As for me, my life unfolded in quiet, powerful triumph. Within three years, my understanding of nocturnal biology and hematology, honed by necessity and now with full access to the Citadel’s archives, earned me a renowned reputation. I became a respected figure, a human who navigated the vampiric world with skill and respect, the consort of a powerful Lord.