Family Support Quotes

After being pushed down the stairs by my husband's first love, I suffered a difficult labor with our second child and died in a corner of their family's private hospital. Before I died, my six-year-old son cried and begged for his father to save me. The first time, Shawn sneered. "Your mom's gotten smarter, using you to play the victim and trick people." After that, he flung my son's hand away and left heartlessly. The second time, my son told him I was bleeding uncontrollably. Shawn was clearly impatient. "She's being so dramatic, it's just a miscarriage, nothing serious. She's always made mountains out of molehills!" After chasing my son away, he even told the doctors not to care for me. "It's my fault for spoiling her. She'll know what she did wrong once I let her have a hard time for a few days." The last time, my son went to my husband's first love Jasmine, kneeling in front of her and knocking his head on the ground, begging her. Shawn flew into a rage and ordered bodyguards to throw my battered and bruised son out of the hospital room, allowing others to laugh at his misfortune. "If you come bother Jasmine while she's resting again, I'll kick your mom out of our family! She'll never see you again!" My son crawled to my side, leaving behind a long trail of blood. And so, I laid there helplessly as I felt the warmth escape both my son and I. 'Are you happy now, Shawn? You'll never see us again.'

I was born with a one-track mind—I take everything seriously and do exactly as I'm told. When my adoptive father cursed a rival company, calling them bloodsucking vampires, I immediately went out, bought ten pounds of garlic and a crucifix, and stormed into their CEO's office to perform an exorcism. When my adoptive mother said she was willing to sell a kidney for the sake of the company, I contacted an underground black-market clinic on the spot and asked when they could schedule her surgery. Over time, no one dared joke casually around me anymore. Everyone in the family chose their words with extreme care, terrified I might take them at face value. That is, until the day of the family reunion banquet—when the fake heiress, who refused to leave no matter what, showed up as well. She hooked her arm through my brother's and flashed me a provocative smile. "Arista, Benji dotes on me the most," she said sweetly. "He said if anyone dares to make me unhappy, he'll chop them into pieces and dump them in the river to feed the fish." The banquet hall erupted in laughter. I was the only one whose face went deathly pale. The next second, I kicked my brother, Benji Collins, straight onto the dining table. I grabbed the silver steak knife and pressed it against his throat. "Everyone, stay calm," I announced loudly. "I've already called the police! For publicly advocating premeditated murder, desecration of a corpse, and antisocial personality tendencies… The minimum sentence is the death penalty!"

I suffered critical injuries that left me in a persistent vegetative state when I tried to rescue my wife, Regina Livingston, from her abductors. Regina spares no expense, spending millions of dollars to bring in the best medical experts in the country to treat me. She watches over me every single night, never weary of caring for me. Four years into my coma, I overhear a conversation between Richard Sutherland—a man I don't know—and Regina. "You've done all you can, Regina," he says. "You don't owe him anything anymore." Regina remains silent. Then, a young boy, Franklin Sutherland, suddenly asks, "Mommy, why do you always visit this man? Who is he?" I'm instantly shocked. Regina and I don't have a child together. I'm completely bewildered, and just as I try to figure it out, I suddenly wake up from my coma.

My husband's sister was pregnant when she leapt from the building. Her final phone call wasn't to him. It was to me. When the police asked for clues, I said nothing. When my in-laws knelt and begged, I watched them coldly. Yet my husband never divorced me. If anything, he treated me even better than before. Then, after I became pregnant, my nightmare truly began. He tied me to the bed and summoned a group of vagrants, ordering them to take turns violating me. He said he wanted me to taste despair.

I'd been home for half a month, but I still couldn't shake the feeling that Mom wasn't quite herself anymore. She looked and sounded like she always had, but something felt different. Then, one day, I got a message from her that sent a chill down my spine. "Lily, hide! There's a ghost in the house!" At first, I thought she was pulling a prank on me—or maybe her account got hacked. Then, there was a knock on my bedroom door. Mom, who had just finished cooking, called out to tell me the meal was ready. I was still hesitating when another message popped up. It was a voice message. "Trust me, Lily. I'm your real mom! The one out there is a ghost! Run!" It sounded just like Mom's voice from outside. My mind was racing in panic. Not hearing me respond, Mom giggled from the other side of the door and said, "I'm coming in."

At the peak of my career, my husband slapped me in public.  With a look of disgust, he said, “Tess, you’re pathetic. You made Grace fail the class because you’re jealous. Don’t you know she’s applying for a scholarship?” Caught off guard, I stumbled and fell to the ground, clutching my stomach as pain surged through me. I knelt there, begging him to take me to the hospital.  However, all he did was swat my hand away and sneer. “Quit the act! Aren’t you just a useless woman who can’t get pregnant?” At that moment, my heart felt like it had shattered into a million pieces. It wasn’t long before bystanders intervened, insisting on taking me to the hospital. Unfortunately, it was too late to save the baby. Once the surgery was over and the reality of what had happened sank in, I turned to him and demanded a divorce.

Bonjour Readers! I am Ishika Sehgal and I am an author in Wattpad and Chapters- the interactive stories. And now I am here too! Please support MRIDULA ROY !22 year old physiotherapist! Smart, bubbly, innocent and shy! She has a happy family with her parents who loved her like there is no tomorrow! What happens when her prince charming will enter her oh so perfect life? YUVRAJ SINGHANIA! 25 year old young businessman and politician! Strict, possessive, ruthless and powerful! He has a very beautiful and large family whom he loves more than anything else! What happens when the beauty stumbles upon the beast? To get to know more about the story please read my story and support me! Thank you, Ishika Sehgal x

At the dinner table, my mother-in-law slid a contract across to me, right in front of more than 20 relatives. "Just sign it," she said lightly. "Consider it a favor to me." I looked down. A home mortgage agreement for 150,000 dollars. Across from me, my husband's younger brother, Jim Canfield, watched with a grin. Beside him, my husband's eldest sister, Cindy Canfield, urged impatiently, saying, "Shirley, what are you waiting for? Just sign it." I said I needed to go home and talk it over with Howard Canfield first. My mother-in-law's expression darkened. "What? You can't even make this decision for your own marriage?" That night, I did not sign anything. Later, she sent a three-minute voice message in the family group chat, accusing me of being childish, ungrateful, and heartless. More than 70 replies followed—not a single one in my defense. A month later, I came home from work to find three men waiting at my door, there to seize the house. I pulled out my phone and checked the property registry. The record was clear. [Mortgaged. 150,000 dollars.]

I was growing up as the much-hated "fake heiress" in a wealthy family, and my life took a devastating turn after my death. My childhood friend who lived next door leaked my nudes online, branding me as manipulative and promiscuous. This ignited public outrage, with strangers celebrating my demise at my family's home. My parents, eager to sever any connection with me, destroyed our mansion that very night, even going so far as to feed my ashes to the dog. Everyone said I deserved it. On the day the true heiress married my childhood friend in a grand, live-streamed wedding, I gave them a unique wedding present from beyond the grave.

After spending six months overseas expanding business, I had just closed a deal worth ten billion. Casually scrolling through the news, a headline made me stop dead in my tracks. [Shocking! Illegitimate Daughter Provokes Meyer Family Heiress, Teacher and Classmates Punish Her!] In the video, my daughter Maeve stood in the freezing snow wearing nothing but a tattered dress, her body covered in bruises. She was being forced to endure the cold, her little frame shivering uncontrollably. A female teacher poked at Maeve's head, ordering the entire class to call her a shameless illegitimate child. Maeve sobbed, insisting she wasn't, but all she got in return was crueler, more mocking laughter from everyone around her. Then a chubby little boy ran up and slapped her across the face. "Your mom's a mistress, and you're a filthy illegitimate child! You're both just gutter rats!" The teacher didn't stop him—she clapped her hands in approval. "That's right! The Meyer family heir isn't something just any nobody gets to pretend to be." "Besides, Mrs. Meyer picks up Clarisse every single day. Look at her—so elegant, clearly classy. And your homewrecker of a mother? Pathetic. She's not even in the same league." When I heard that last line, I slammed my laptop shut, shaking with rage. I turned to my assistant. "Book me the fastest private jet home. I want to see for myself exactly when Aaron, that worthless husband of mine, managed to father an illegitimate child."