A Death In The Family Novel Novels & Stories

I was the long-lost daughter of the wealthiest family. On my first day back, I was handed a two-hundred-million-dollar trust fund. But that very night, I found out our entire family was doomed to end badly. We were mere cannon fodder in someone else’s story. My father was the overbearing tycoon who would be publicly humiliated and driven into bankruptcy by the male lead. My mother was the harsh, spiteful mother-in-law who made the female lead’s life miserable. My brother was the devoted second male lead who willingly played the fool and got cheated on. My adoptive sister was the tragic “first love” supporting character, destined for a miserable end. Me: “Wow. Just great.”

My sister, Laura Ward, died the year we were ten, the year we snuck out of school to play. From that day forward, my mother’s grief turned into a burning hatred for me, convinced that I was the reason my sister was gone. She treated me like a servant, like an unwanted burden, and filled the void by adopting a perfect, obedient daughter to replace my sister. She took everything from me without a second thought — my rights, my freedom, my very existence — and even demanded that I give up a kidney for her precious adopted girl. Alright, Mother, if you want a life, I’ll give you mine! But it was only when my body lay cold, my breath long gone, that she finally turned and looked at me.

On the day I was kidnapped, my husband was looking after his sick sweetheart. I called him, asking him for help. Yet, he merely replied coldly, "Danica, you are a bad liar." After that, he heartlessly hung up the phone call on me, causing me to get brutally murdered by the kidnappers. I failed to show up as scheduled on the day we agreed to finalize our divorce. He called me in exasperation, only for the phone call to be answered by the police. "Mr. Ferguson, are you a family member of the deceased Danica Reed?"

The day I recovered from my mental illness and got discharged, my parents held me in their arms with tears of happiness. My sister gave me a teddy bear and said she had been waiting for me to come home. I comforted my parents who were crying and accepted the gift from my sister. I slowly got used to ordinary life and became the real daughter of the Schmidt family. To show their preference for me, my parents transferred the family business into my name on my sister’s 18th birthday. But I cruelly murdered the family of three who cherished me on this day.

On my birthday, my adopted sister, Sophia Norris, frames me for soiling her dress and causing her to not be able to attend the banquet. My older brothers, Gerald and Gary Moore, immediately demand that I give my gown to Sophia. Otherwise, they will cancel the birthday banquet. Furious, I point at them while screaming, "I didn't ruin her dress at all! She was the one who splashed red wine onto it! "Also, I will never give my gown to her! My best friend designed it for me!" As soon as my words fall, Gerald commands the bodyguards to tear the gown from my body. At the same time, Gary picks up a wine glass and dumps red wine onto my face. "It's bad enough that you constantly bully Sophia! Today, her crush, Zachary Green, will be attending the banquet too! Do you have any idea how long she has prepared for this day to come?" Gerald adds, "A vile woman like you doesn't have the right to be born, let alone celebrate your birthday!" After that, a few bodyguards drag me into the basement. Immediately, pitch-black darkness swallows me. I have severe asthma. Breathing becomes insanely difficult for me as seconds tick by. I keep screaming loudly and calling for help, but all I hear is laughter coming from the banquet upstairs. It isn't until the banquet is well underway that Gerald and Gary remember that I exist. But I've already died in the cramped basement.

I was a child who was born in a vocational school's toilet. To my mom, I was a stain in her life that she was given birth to after having her cherry popped by a delinquent when she was still young. I knew that Mom had been trying to kill me. Unfortunately, she hadn't succeeded so far. The first time she tried to get rid of me was when she decided to give birth to me in the toilet. It was a cold, winter month, yet she didn't give me anything warm to wear. The second time she attempted murder was when she got into grad school, which was based in the north. No one was around to take care of me, so she turned on the gas while holding me in her arms and clutching her train ticket. The third and last time happened when Mom was about to marry the man she loved. On the night before her wedding, she had tears streaming down her cheeks as she told me, "You're nothing but a burden. You ruined my life! "Do you know that I can only forget about all the pain and suffering you caused me after you die? Only then can I start a brand new chapter in my life!" I wiped Mom's tears off her face with my tiny hand. So, her wish was for me to die. On my birthday, my fever hit 104 degrees Fahrenheit. That was when I finally received the first slice of birthday cake in my entire life. I didn't have the heart to eat it, so I made my wish solemnly. "I hope that I will die soon." I heard that birthday wishes often came true. That way, Mom would be very happy.

In my previous life, my husband had suddenly died of a brain hemorrhage, leaving behind a massive mountain of debt. For the sake of my son, who was still in high school, I sold the house my parents had left me, gritted my teeth, and worked three jobs to pay off the debt. Overworked and exhausted, my health deteriorated, and I eventually collapsed in the hospital. From my bed, I could hear my son, now a graduate from a prestigious university, smiling as he spoke on the phone. "Hello? Dad, it's me. Yeah, she's about to die. I bought insurance for her, so we should get close to one million. You and Aunt Rena should come back home right away." The "Aunt Rena" he spoke of was none other than my husband's childhood friend and neighbor who had known him for years. It turned out that the debts were all part of a massive money-laundering scheme between my husband and his childhood sweetheart. They had fabricated false accounts to hide their crime, and he had faked his death to escape the law. My son, eager to become the heir to wealth, had stood by and watched me work myself to death. When I next opened my eyes, I was back in the moment of my husband's feigned brain hemorrhage, the day it had all begun.

My mate's adoptive sister asked me to go for a walk in the mountain forest and we encountered a sudden flash flood. My mate Nathan, the Alpha of Snow Peak pack, rushed to save us. But because we were both trapped on a breaking tree branch above the raging flood, he could only save one person at a time. To save his physically weak adoptive sister, my mate abandoned me - his Luna who was five months pregnant. I begged him desperately to save me. He watched as the flood waters dragged me under. "Sarah has always been weak since childhood. If we leave her here, she'll die." "Your wolf is strong enough to swim, but Sarah can't swim." But after my death, he went mad.

On our wedding anniversary night, my husband, Lucian Moore, comes home with a seven-year-old orphan named Chloe Martin. He even hands her the necklace he bought me for our anniversary and lets her play with it like a toy. Because of her, my son, Ryan Moore, shouts at me for the first time. "You're a bad woman! I don't want you to be my mommy!" I watch the three of them sitting together, warm and cozy, and I say nothing. Instead, I buy a ticket to leave the country. At first, they think I'm just acting out and will come home in a few days. But when they return from Feanland after celebrating Chloe's birthday, they find out I've joined a ten-year classified research project and will not come back again. At that moment, they fall apart.

My husband’s childhood friend was trapped in an elevator for half an hour. In his anger, he stuffed me inside a luggage bag and locked me inside. “You’re paying double for all the suffering Grace went through.” My body was forced into a curled-up state. I had a hard time breathing. I cried as I apologized, but all I got was my husband’s cold reproach. “You’re going through the entirety of this punishment. Once you’ve learned your lesson, you’ll behave.” He then locked the luggage bag in the closet. I screamed in despair and struggled to break free. My blood seeped out of the bag and soaked the floor. Five days later, he felt sorry for me and decided to end the punishment. “Let this punishment be a warning for you. This time, I’ll let you go.” Little did he know that my body was already rotting inside the luggage bag.