Family Story

Drugs disappeared during one of our family’s deals—and everyone knew it was my stepsister, Emily’s fault. Now, our rivals demanded someone be sent to them, held captive until the debt was repaid. My fiancé, my family—they all agreed it should be me. “Emily already got hurt in the mission. You are stronger. You can handle it while we figure things out.” I knew this moment was coming. And so I signed my name. In five days, I’d be sent away. And I have decided that no matter what happened—whether I lived or died—I was done with my family and my fiancé. In those last days, I gave everything I owned away. The casino? To my stepsister, who had always eyed it with envy. My checking account? To my father, who never missed a chance to remind me how useless I was. The engagement ring? Back to the man who’d been fake as hell. They didn’t notice anything off. They just smiled, pleased with how thoughtful I’d suddenly become. When they realized I was gone for good—and that their fragile Emily was their undoing—would they still smile like that? Would they still look so content?

On Children's Day, the most popular social media post is about me. The caption is: "Mr. Shane Norton spends his birthday with his son David Norton and his first love, Ruth Feynman. Has he finally decided to divorce Ayla Sanderson?" I quietly press the "like" button. When my phone rings, I'm in the midst of taking down the balloons I put up for our wedding anniversary. "Honey." My husband sounds anxious as he tries to explain himself. "David suddenly insisted that we go to a theme park, so I—" In the background, I hear David laughing. "Dad, Ruthie says that I can sleep with her tonight!" I look at the mess in the house. The balloons are drooping, and the cream on the cake is congealed. "You don't have to explain," I hear myself say. "I understand." It's just that this time, I don't want you or David any longer, Shane.

The day after the new year, during a family gathering, my aunt sneered at me as I worked overtime, reviewing a proposal. "Why are you pretending to be so busy? It’s not like we don’t know you only make three thousand a month. Real money-makers are people like my daughter, a designer so successful she doesn’t even have time to come home!" I ignored her, but she directed her spoiled son to delete all my files while I was in the bathroom. My hands trembled with rage. "This proposal is due in ten minutes—if I don’t submit it, everything is ruined!" She scoffed dismissively. "He’s just a kid. What could he possibly know? Besides, your job isn’t even worth much. If you lose the files, you lose them. Worst case, you get fired." I chuckled coldly but said nothing. She had no idea it was the proposal her daughter had spent an entire month working on. And I was the client who held her daughter’s fate in my hands.

Even before marrying Wayne Cooper, I knew he had a fierce sister-in-law. He would always tell me to never get into a fight with her. After we marry, we spend Christmas Eve at his parents' house for the first time. I'm forced to bustle around in the kitchen as I prepare a feast for over a dozen people. Meanwhile, Wayne's family lounges in the living room. They chatter away while enjoying the fruits I've washed and sliced. As I place the last dish on the table, Wayne's brother and sister-in-law, Kyle Cooper and Lucy Wren, arrive. When I want to take my seat, I discover there isn't one for me. That's when Lucy snorts and says sarcastically, "I heard you're a good wife who's obedient and easygoing, Melanie. I have to say that your cooking is… mediocre, though." This infuriates me. I'm about to retort when she turns to my mother-in-law. She says, "I think you should do the cooking from now on, Gloria. Your food is delicious…"

My older sister was always kind-hearted, while I was born a natural troublemaker. When the intense heatwave struck, our family stocked up on supplies and stayed indoors. My sister saw a little boy, who seemed about seven or eight years old, crying and asking for help. She decided to take him in. “We’ve plenty of supplies anyway. One more person won’t make much difference. Besides, he’s just a child.” I warned her that the boy looked oddly mature and might not be as innocent as he seemed. I suggested we observe him a bit longer. She said I was a cold-hearted troublemaker by nature. Then, she went and let him in anyway. Not just that, but she also convinced our mother to force me to share a room with the boy. That night, the scheming “little boy” secretly climbed into my bed. I was brutally assaulted. Yet my sister told me to let bygones be bygones and marry him. To force me to obey, she locked me out on the balcony at over 140 °F. Enraged, I set a fire and killed everyone. When I opened my eyes again and saw my sister safe and unharmed, I smiled. This time, I would show them what a troublemaker really was.

My sister-in-law, Maeve Cohen, floored my luxury car and blew past traffic at about 125 mph, killing a family of three. She pretended to be me and acted as if nothing could touch her. "Those idiots walked into my path! It's not my fault they got hit!" she snapped. "I'm the Lincoln Enterprise heiress. Even if I ran, who would dare catch me?" In my last life, Maeve said her husband wasn't home and she needed a car to visit her parents, so she borrowed mine. She ended up racing down the road, plowing into a family crossing the street, and driving back over them to make sure they were dead. The couple had just bought a house. The baby was only a month old. When the victims' family demanded an explanation, she hid behind my reputation and spat venom. "They're just three worthless people! I'm the Lincoln Enterprise heiress; why should I explain myself? Tell them to come to me for funeral expenses!" The grieving family couldn't take it and came to my in-laws' place. "Three worthless people, huh? Today, we'll end you so you can apologize to them in person!" My husband had died the year before. With no one to protect me, the victims' family turned on me, and I was stabbed to death. The valuable wedding gifts my family had given to me became Maeve's overnight. My family tried to appeal for me, but trolls who hated the rich maliciously reported tax problems about my father's company. My father was driven to exhaustion. One night, he fell asleep at the wheel, and the car plunged off a cliff, killing him. Only after I died did I discover it had all been Maeve's plan to ruin us out of spite. Then I opened my eyes. I was back on the day Maeve took my car and ran into those people.

During a mission overseas, I shielded my younger brother from an explosion—only to wake up months later, my body broken, my mind trapped in the void of a coma. Grateful for my sacrifice, he repaid me by marrying my wife. When I finally clawed my way back to consciousness and rushed home, I found my son kneeling on the ground, sobbing as his college acceptance letter lay shredded in his fists. My nephew loomed over him, slamming a steel pipe into his back. "Lick my shoes clean," he sneered. "Who are you to think you deserve an education?" And there was my wife clapping in delight, dabbing the sweat from my nephew’s brow like a doting servant. "You’re just like your deadbeat father," My wife spat. "Born to be my stepping stone." My eyes bloodshot, I tightened my fists. Every last one of them would pay for this dearly.

A wealthy heiress from Belvoria’s elite circle asked me to be her dead boyfriend’s substitute. My compensation included a 50,000-dollar base salary, plus 8,000 dollars per shared meal and 10,000 dollars per accompanying shopping trip. My hypocritical older sister quickly stopped me from agreeing to this deal. “We come from a respectable family. How can you sell your dignity for such little money?” Yet she later became a rich man's mistress and successfully married into wealth. Meanwhile, I struggled to balance work and studies to pay for my tuition. This hurt my academic performance. After graduation, I could only find a job with a monthly salary of 3,000 dollars. I even developed a tumor from overworking. I eventually died in a cold and impersonal hospital, unable to afford treatment. When I opened my eyes again, I had returned to the day the young heiress asked me to be her dead boyfriend’s substitute. This time, I agreed without hesitation. I was determined to take this role.

In my previous life, I was eight months pregnant when my mother-in-law and husband forcibly dragged me to grab decorative gift boxes from the Christmas tree. I told them there was nothing inside, but my mother-in-law slapped me across the face while my husband pulled me into the crowd. A stampede broke out. They clutched their gift boxes and fled to save themselves, while my child and I were trampled to death. They eagerly tore open all the gift boxes with high hopes, only to find exactly nothing, just like I'd warned them. But as I lay dying, I noticed something in the final gift box. A Black Widow spider with an hourglass pattern on its belly crawled onto my mother-in-law's hand. This spider carries deadly venom. Anyone bitten either dies or suffers permanent disability. When I open my eyes again, I'm back on Christmas Day. This time, watching my mother-in-law and husband gear up to fight over those Christmas gift boxes, I won't try to stop them!

"My Alpha, if your Luna knew that the embryo transplanted into her womb was actually our fertilized egg, she was just our surrogate, she'd probably be so furious to kill herself, right?" Elora gasped. My mate, Damon, the Alpha of the Silver Moon Pack, was kneading Elora's breasts. "I don't like her either. But if she dies, who's going to manage my pack? You little minx," Damon chuckled, pulling her from the front and ruthlessly pounded into her from behind. "So, we have to keep this a secret. When our child is born and inherits my Alpha position, we'll deliver the final blow to her." I pretended not to know. I gave birth to the child and raised him with great care. Twenty-two years later, after my son Torin completed his studies, we handed over the Alpha position and all my wealth to him. At the succession ceremony, in front of the elders, nobles, and alliance leaders, Elora walked in arm-in-arm with my mate, holding a DNA paternity test report up to me. "Torin is the biological son of Damon and me. Now, it's time to return him to me." My son pulled out a small vial, said to me mercilessly, "This is a potion I got from a witch. Drink it now, break the mate bond with my father, and get as far away as possible." I smiled slightly, "Alright."