Novel & Cerita Family Guy Peter Fights

My name is Lyra. For eighteen years, the Silvermane Pack was my home, but it was never my family. The night my only friend, Selene, chose to end her life—to Eclipse—was the night I decided to leave. She showed me that escape was possible, even if it meant walking away from everything I knew. The Alpha and Luna who raised me, and my so-called brothers, made it clear I didn't belong. Their love was always conditional, reserved for my "true-born" sister, Lillian, found just a year ago. On my forgotten birthday, I declared my own Eclipse. I am returning to my real family, the Blood-Claws. But leaving has a price. A primordial terror stirs in the darkness, threatening to devour everyone I leave behind. They think I'm running away. They have no idea what I'm really walking into, or what I must become to save them all.

To prevent me from being jealous of my stepmother's son, my dad implemented a "family point system". Washing dishes earned 1 point, and getting a perfect score on a test earned 10 points. Accumulating 1000 points meant you could make a wish come true. When my stepbrother broke a vase, Dad said it was a sign of good luck and awarded him 50 points. When I insisted on going to school with a fever, Dad said I was trying to garner sympathy and deducted 100 points. I scrambled to scrape together every point I could, all for that exorbitant Math Olympiad registration form. On the day I finally accumulated enough points, my stepbrother cried and said he wanted a pair of limited-edition sneakers. Dad immediately emptied my points. "We're family. Your points are your brother's points too." I looked at the torn-up application form and jumped from the 18th-floor balcony.

Everyone knew Peter was crazy about me. But five years into our marriage, he knocked up his mentor's daughter. Crying, Cindy grabbed his hand. "I won't let Yuna know." Peter just stared her down. "You'd better not. I'm only helping you because I owe your dad. Don't get any bright ideas." She had the baby on my birthday. Peter looked at the kid like he was already in love. Then Cindy, all smug, texted me: [Ms. Zander, don't you think my baby deserves a dad with a real title?] I signed the divorce papers and caught a flight to Hampsburg.

I was the real son, finally found and brought back by my billionaire parents, only to be diagnosed with leukemia right after. The only person who matched my bone marrow was the adopted son, Doug Daniel. So my parents rushed to bring him back into the family, making him my donor. To make it up to him, they did everything they could for him. My parents handed over the inheritance. My fiancée, Moira Stevens, hovered around him every day. When the pain got so bad that I could barely stand it, my parents pointed at me and snapped, "Jay! You keep bringing up your illness. Are you really that eager to take away Doug's health?" Moira, a medical school professor, didn't hold back either. "I'm a doctor. You think I don't understand your condition? You act like you're dying every single day. You just can't stand that we're being nice to Doug." On the day of the transplant, I lay on the operating table and waited. But Moira, the one in charge of harvesting Doug's marrow, never came in. I closed my eyes and waited for death. None of them knew I had already signed up to donate my body.

When I was ten, my mother married into the Corleone family, and I followed her into that house. Before Vincent Corleone learned to hate me, he had once treated me like a real little sister. Later, he became the one who hurt me most. He believed my mother had driven his own mother to her death, and from that day on, he made sure I paid for it. Humiliation, contempt, cruelty—he never spared me any of it. Then Leo Moretti, Vincent’s closest friend, confessed that he loved me. I thought he was my way out. I was wrong. The morning after I gave him my first time, I overheard him speaking to Vincent behind a half-closed door. “I got the photos from her first night,” Leo said quietly. “Are you really going to make them public?” Vincent’s voice was cold enough to freeze my blood. “She owes my mother a life. If I can’t take that, then I’ll make sure she pays another way. I want her ruined.” That was the moment I understood. The tenderness had been fake. The love had been a trap. And the man I had trusted most had been waiting all along to destroy me. What they didn’t know was that two weeks earlier, I had already received an invitation from Professor Evans at the world’s top international medical research institute. So this time, I left first. And I was never coming back.

The day of my wedding photoshoot, my family's adoptive daughter tugs my veil off and asks loudly, "Aren't you our family's adoptive daughter? What are you doing here? Today's the day Ian and I are supposed to have our wedding photoshoot. Aren't you going to disgrace Ford Group by being here?" In the past, I would've run away in tears. Unfortunately for her, I'd been reborn. I slapped Aspen Miller and retorted, "What right do you have to speak to me? Who do you think you are, having a wedding photoshoot with Adrian? Are you worthy of being associated with Ford Group?"

My three-year-old son looked nothing like my husband. Suspicious, my father-in-law secretly took my son for a paternity test. The results showed that there was no biological relationship between them. Furious and humiliated, my father-in-law erupted in anger, hurling insults at me and even threatening to kill us. My husband, just as enraged, slapped me hard across the face. "You shameless wrench! You've made me raise another man's child for three years!" As I stared at their accusing faces, I calmly produced another report—the paternity test between my husband and his father. It confirmed they weren't biologically related either. Their expressions froze in shock. With a faint smile, I said, "Looks like we don't know for sure who isn't part of this family, do we?"

My wife transplanted the donor heart I had waited for two years for to the fake heir, Sean Morgan. The doctor said I only had one week left to live, so I decided to freeze my body. I donated my body to Sean's lab. On the day I signed the donation letter, my daughter threw herself into my arms and said I had finally made up with her uncle. My parents praised me for finally understanding the deep bond and mutual support between brothers. My wife said with relief, "You've finally let go of your grudges and become an understanding person." I smiled gently. "Yes, this time I’ve really learned my lesson. I will return the status of the Morgan family heir to Sean and fulfill your wishes.”

When I was young, my uncle and his family had died in a fire to save me, leaving behind only their three-year-old daughter. Thus, she became the most lovable member of our family. Later, she and I were involved in a car accident. As the blood and amniotic fluid mixed together, I clutched my husband's hand and begged him to save me and our children. However, he swatted my hand away and said impatiently, "Don't you realize Alice had hurt her bones?" My mother also scolded me, "Why are you still craving attention at a crucial moment like this? You are so cruel. Do you want Alice to be crippled for the rest of her life?" Just like that, I watched helplessly as they left with all the doctors, leaving me all alone. In the end, I died along with my adorable twin babies. When they heard the news, the ones who despised me most went crazy.

We were on our way to celebrate our son’s birthday when we got into a car crash. When I woke up, I looked at my family gathered around my hospital bed and cracked a joke: “Sorry, but who are you guys?” I held back a smile, curious to see how they'd humor their "amnesiac" patient. Would my mother grab my hand in a panic? Would my husband look at me with worry? Would my son rush over, crying and calling me Mom? What I didn't expect was for them to freeze for a moment—and then, almost in unison, let out sighs of relief. My mother was the first to speak, her tone unmistakably lighter, as if a huge weight had been lifted. "If you don’t remember, it’s probably for the best. This is Lindsay—your sister, she’s my daughter. You were adopted." My husband then pointed at me and said to our son, "You should call her Aunt Wendy." Before the shock could even sink in, I watched the child I'd fought so hard to protect turn and throw himself into the arms of Lindsay. "Mom! I played outside all day. I missed you so much!" So that was the truth. My amnesia was exactly what they'd been hoping for. In that case, I didn't need this made-up life anymore.