Romans & histoires Barbies Family

Lenora Bennet is my first love. After we start dating, she's been nothing but caring toward me. But on the day of our wedding, my older brother, Gideon Sloane, calls her on the phone and tells her that he's sick and hospitalized. Lenora doesn't hesitate to ditch me at the altar. My mom wants me to be the bigger man and let Lenora take care of the ill Gideon. Meanwhile, my older sister, Hillary Sloane, chastises me for being selfish. She thinks I never let Gideon have his way. I don't understand at all. Gideon is the one who's stolen my life from me, but why is it that my family wants me to be gracious toward him? But after that, I've graciously decided that I don't want them in my life anymore. Surprisingly enough, they keep begging for my forgiveness.

While I was watching my own child, I came across an anonymous post online: [My son married way above his station. How can I get him to divorce her?] The poster claimed to be a mother. She said she hated her oldest son, describing him as lazy and selfish, and totally undeserving of such a great in-law family. Her plan was to force him to get a divorce—and then send her well-behaved, obedient younger son in his place as the new son-in-law. The comment section went crazy. [I've seen parents play favorites, but this is just twisted.] [Is the oldest adopted or something? Who schemes against their own flesh and blood like that?] [Are you marrying off a son or pimping one out? Just swapping them in to serve a rich family?] Then, in the middle of all the outrage, one comment surfaced: [Men hate being cheated on. Fake a few photos of your daughter-in-law with another guy and send them to him. Once he loses it, the marriage is as good as over.] The original poster replied immediately: [Thanks, girl! I'll try it right away.] The next second, my phone buzzed. A message from my mom popped up on the screen: [Jason, take a look at this. Do you think Emily is cheating?]

My body drifted in the river for five years before a fishing enthusiast reeled it in. Even though the forensic pathologist managed to reconstruct my face from when I was alive through craniofacial reconstruction technology, the hatred my brother had for me remained as strong as ever. "That better be her body! She has been on the run for five years! Even in death, she doesn't deserve pity! In fact, it simply is a disgrace to have a murderer like her as the daughter of the Clarke family!" he hissed. Everyone thought he despised me with every fiber of his being. Yet, as he spoke, his entire body trembled. Who would have guessed that the distress call I made to him five years ago would end up becoming the main factor that hastened my death?

When the flood came, my father, who was the captain of the rescue team, immediately rescued my cousin and cut my rescue rope. "Vivian can't swim, and there's not enough space on the helicopter. You won't die even if we rescue you a little later." I was rushed to the hospital while hanging onto a thread, but my mother, who was a doctor, gave the last bag of rare blood to my cousin, who was not even seriously injured. I begged with a weak voice, but my mother pried my fingers apart and said, "Your cousin is anemic and has always been in poor health. Must you fight for attention at such a time?" My parents had no idea that I stopped breathing when they abandoned me.

My name is Elena, the principessa with the best marksmanship in the Capello family. In my previous life, I married my fiancé, Leon Newman. However, behind my back, he was involved with his adopted sister, Violetta, for three whole years. They even had a child together. To give her the antique pistol that represented the highest honor in marksmanship, he smashed my right wrist with a steel slide rail. From that day on, I could never hold a gun steadily again. I also lost the qualification to take over the family’s private shooting club and weapons collection business. After being reborn, I didn’t choose Leon again. Instead, I married his uncle, Damien Newman, the current don of the Newman family. I thought I had finally escaped the fate of my previous life. But on the eve of the family’s annual shooting competition, my right wrist was destroyed again. This time, it was Violetta herself who did it. After Damien learned about it, he was furious and personally sent Violetta to prison. I was deeply moved. I thought I had finally chosen the right man in this life. It wasn’t until five years later that I overheard the conversation between father and son in the study. “Dad, back then, you helped Aunt Violetta burn the surveillance footage, gave her a new identity, and married Mom, a useless cripple who can’t even hold a gun steady anymore, all so she could safely leave Sicilia. “Now that Aunt Violetta is back, when are you going to divorce Mom? I want Aunt Violetta to be my mom.” Damien stayed silent for a long time. He rubbed his wedding ring with his thumb before speaking in a low voice. “I won’t. For Violetta’s sake, I already wronged your mother once. In this life, I’ll make it up to her. “She will always be Mrs. Newman. And you are never allowed to say things like that in front of her again.” “But the one you love is clearly Aunt Violetta.” “That’s enough.” My hand froze in midair before it could knock on the door. Chills ran down my spine. In my previous life, Leon destroyed the hand I used to shoot. So, in this life, I thought the man who saved me would be the exception. However, it turned out that even this marriage was just a carefully constructed lie he created for another woman. My husband didn’t love me. And my son, Luca, liked Violetta more, too. If that’s the case, I don’t want you anymore, Damien, nor do I want you, my son.

Five years ago, my family died in a car crash. My parents. My adopted sister, Liz. Everyone but me. They left behind grief, an empty house, and a debt so large it swallowed my life. When the collectors came, I turned to the only person I had left—my husband, Adrian. He told me he had cut ties with his own family to marry me and had nothing left. I believed him. For five years, I worked every job I could find, paid every dollar I earned, and told myself love was worth the suffering. When the balance dropped to its final $18,000, I signed up for a paid drug trial at a private clinic. They handed me a waiver, warned me about possible delayed reactions, and promised fast money if I swallowed the experimental dose. I thought it would buy us a new beginning. Instead, I came home early and heard Adrian on the phone. “Let Liz use the card. Evelyn still doesn’t know. She took away Liz’s money five years ago, so she has to earn every dollar back herself.” Then he laughed softly. “One more year, and her punishment is over.” That was how I learned the dead were alive. The debt was fake. My husband had never been poor. And the life I had fought so hard to survive was only a sentence they had given me.

I struggle with all my might, but Dad restrains me, and Mom breaks my limbs. Then, my sister seals me into the concrete. "Concrete is only brought to life with an actual person sealed inside. It looks so much more defined! It's not like you'll die after being sealed in there for a few days. How can you be so insensible?" The pain of having my limbs broken and my oxygen being cut off leads to me dying within that block of concrete. My body rots and festers inside, but my soul sticks around to watch how my parents dote on their adoptive child. They seem to be happy without me. Finally, I lose all hope in them. But when the liquid from my body seeps out of the concrete, they all lose their minds.

Of all the pups in the clan, my parents only loved my brother and sister, but not me. When the fire broke in the pack, they hurried into the flames to save their pups, but only took my brother and sister. Left behind, I suffered facial burns and my wolf grew extremely weak. From then on, I lost interest in fighting for their love. Whoever wanted them, could have them. After all, I was already dying. But I did not anticipate their regret. They held my thin frail body and begged: “Could you throw a little tantrum at us again… just once more?”

My sister and I got into a car crash. My heart was ruptured, and I needed immediate surgery if I were to live. My mother, being the director of her hospital, sent all the doctors to my sister instead, all just to check on her. She barely got hurt. I pleaded and begged for my mother to save me, but impatience got the better of her. She roared, "This isn't the time to take any attention away from your sister! She almost had a bone fracture!" And I died. I remember where it was. It was a freezing operating theater.

When I was fourteen, my brother—the Don—brought home an orphan girl to settle a debt of gratitude. From then on, my life within the Corleone family always took a backseat to hers. The girl framed me, claiming I was trying to poison her. My brother slapped me across the face and locked me in the attic. To make it up to her, he even gave her the position that was meant for me. This time, I didn't say a word. I just packed my bags and left. It took a few days for him to realize I hadn't returned to the family estate. Only then did he find out that I’d joined an international medical aid organization—and that I was never coming back to New York. After that, he completely broke down.