Family Reads

My husband, Ethan Parker, brought our daughter on a trip to the countryside with his first love, Mandy Sanchez. Halfway through, he abandoned our little girl and left with Mandy. When our daughter was surrounded by wolves, I could not reach him. By the time I arrived, the car was empty—the only thing left behind was a bloodstained piece of pumpkin pie. As I was dealing with my grief, Ethan finally answered his phone. "We're celebrating Thanksgiving. Why are you ruining the mood?" I internally scoffed at that man's audacity. Well, happy holidays indeed! Let me deliver a bloody pumpkin pie for you to really get into the spirit.

On our wedding day, Carter Hall's father took his own life in our new home. He left a suicide note, blaming me for his death. From that day forward, Carter despised me to the core. He said, "Lindsey Thomson, you deserve to rot in hell, atoning for your sins for the rest of your life." Eventually, just as he wished, I wandered the streets, mute and half-insane, living a life worse than a stray dog. But then, he regretted it.

After Mom passed, it was just me and Dad, depending on each other. I’ve always had poor health, and people used to taunt me, calling me a “sickly, doomed child.” He kneeled by my bedside, making a promise. “I swear, I’ll get you the best treatment, no matter what. You’ll never suffer again!” Eventually, he became a powerful CEO, going so far as to buy an entire private villa just so I could recover in peace. However, his assistant assumed I was his mistress.  She came in with a group of security guards and surrounded me. “So, you’re the cripple who’s been seducing Mr. Johnson?” “Let’s see if you can still act high and mighty after I’m done with you!” She kicked over my wheelchair, yanked me by the hair, scratched up my face, and finally cut off my hand. Barely clinging to life, I lay there until Dad came back. She held up my severed hand, presenting it to him. “Mr. Johnson, this was a spy sent by a rival company. I took care of her for you.”

I'm the second child of the family. Because of that, I'm also the one everyone neglects by nature. The birthdays of my older brother, Joe Thompson, and my younger sister, Lyra Thompson, are jotted down on the calendar by my parents. But they always fail to remember my own birthday. Joe and Lyra often have new clothes to wear, whereas my parents keep forgetting to buy new clothes for me. Heck, Joe and Lyra often receive holiday gifts! Meanwhile, my parents never bother giving me anything during the holidays. In fact, when we're traveling back to our hometown, my parents end up ditching me at a deserted highway rest stop when the temperature is extremely low…

My mother is a forensic doctor. When she's at the market for some grocery shopping, she sees human flesh being sold at a butcher's stall. She calls the police before contacting my cousin to tell her to stay safe. Her friend reminds her to also pay attention to me, but my mother is scornful. "She can die out there for all I care. I never want to see her again!" She doesn't know that she's already seen me, though. She didn't recognize her daughter from the pile of flesh that's waiting for her examination.

Everything changed on my twelfth birthday. The brakes failed, the tragic crash, and the death of our parents. My brother blamed it all on me. He ruled as the mafia boss, yet all he showed me was hatred. The only love he had left was for our younger sister. He never believed how sick I became. He accused me of faking my sickness to get attention. He would turn to our sister with a gentleness I never received, he promised to save her, and he promised she would never die on his watch. My heart ended up beating inside her chest even after I died. He finally saw what was left of my damaged body after I was gone. The truth my brother never bothered to face would shatter his world.

The day I dissolved the mate bond, I called my childhood friend to pick me up. I had a bank card with barely any balance left, my phone, and the same clothes I had worn the day I moved into this house. That was everything I owned after all those years living in the pack. My mate, Derek Anderson, called to say I had left a few things behind. "Forget it. Just throw them away." He seemed reluctant to give up. "Your son keeps saying he wants to see you." I dragged my suitcase behind me and walked away without looking back. "Tell him he'll have a new mom soon. The one he's always wanted." Like father, like son. They even fell for the same woman. In the past, I would have asked myself, 'Why won't they even look at me? I've given them so much.' Now, I felt nothing. If they didn't love me, then so be it. I would let them go and let myself go in the process too. My childhood best friend, Eric Keaton, helped me with my luggage and opened the door of his Maybach. I said one last thing to my mate. "I won't ever disturb you and your son again." After a long time, he found me. He grabbed my arm like a madman and stared at me in despair. "Leah Sullivan, why don't you care about us anymore?"

I was suffering from period cramps, so I ordered some painkillers. I asked for a woman to deliver my painkillers to me, but a drunken man came over instead. This time, I did not call my brothers for help. I called the police instead. In the past, not only did my brothers send all of their bodyguards to me, but they also rushed back. In the process, they ended up missing the theater performance of our adopted sister, Gloria. Gloria was sad and grabbed a prop to stab herself. My brothers comforted me. “Don’t blame yourself for it. At the very least, you’re safe.” But, right after, they arranged my kidnapping and gave me over to a group of drunkards. “That was just a drunkard. You could have just chased him out. Did you have to call us? Look! Gloria’s dead now! You’re not getting out of this alive either!” When I opened my eyes again, I returned to the time when the drunkard was knocking on the door. This time, I did not call them, and my brothers got to watch Gloria’s theater performance and cheered her on. But once the performance ended, they regretted it.

My mother despised me because I was the unintended consequence of a one-night stand. She poured all her love and attention into her students, treating them as if they were her own flesh and blood. One day, when her favourite pupil confessed his feelings for me, she flew into a rage. She slapped me hard across the face and called me a whore. Years later, as Alzheimer's clouded her mind, she forgot I even existed, yet still remembered every single one of her precious students. The irony was that not one of them ever came to visit her in the nursing home. They all loathed her just as much as I did.

My twin sister died on her 18th birthday. She died of respiratory failure in a dark corner of a hotel after being raped. Her dearest friend, Joanne Lowe, whom she always cared for and supported, turned around and anonymously spread photos of my sister being raped. I then slowly ruined the face which had so badly wanted to replace my sister with a knife. With blood everywhere, I cradled Joanne's face as if it were a piece of art and said, "My beloved sister is gone, and you people who harmed her won't be let off so easily."