Gojo Family Novels & Stories

The day before I am supposed to move into a nursing home, my daughter-in-law, Emily Freeman, cancels the deposit I have already paid without my permission. "It's not easy for Ryan to earn money. Instead of helping us save money, you want to stay somewhere so expensive," Emily complains. I frown and explain that I paid with my own money. Her expression darkens as she rants, "Isn't your money our money? Besides, how much money can you possibly have? Didn't you get all of it from Ryan anyway? "You don't help take care of the kids or do any housework. Now, you're just bleeding us dry so that you can enjoy yourself!" My son, Ryan Pratt, sides with her and criticizes me as well. "Mom, this is such a waste of money. If you ask me, you might as well go to a senior community and get a bed there for ten dollars. Someone will still take care of you." I am so furious that I faint on the spot and am rushed to the hospital. With the refunded money, Ryan takes Emily and goes on vacation abroad with his in-laws. After being discharged, the first thing I do is put the apartment I once gave my son as a wedding gift up for sale with a real estate agent.

My mother kept a red notebook recording all of my sister's favourite things. She had a blue notebook for me too. When my mother was hospitalized, I took leaves from work to take care of her. My sister had never shown up. However, my mother recorded in the blue notebook, '15th March, I am not well and am hospitalized. Celine owed me 450 dollars for food allowance. I knew that was not a notebook about my favourite things, but a notebook of all of my expenses. Behind the closed doors, Mother said to Father, "Celine is an evil person. She always likes to compete with her sister. We must take a chance to steal all her money and leave with Belle. Later when we are old, we will ask her to take care of us. I think we should just ask her to pay us back all the money we spent on her that I have recorded in this notebook. I was devastated at that moment.

When I was seven, my constant vomiting got so bad that my mother took me to court and accused me of being born dangerous. If the charge stuck, I would be stripped of my family ties and sent straight to prison. Everyone said my mother was overreacting. "He's just a kid. Kids get sick. As his mother, you should be more understanding." But the moment the evidence was shown, the room went dead quiet. My mother had drunk herself into a stomach bleed just to land a contract, and the second she got home, I threw up all over it. The deal was voided, and she lost her job on the spot. On my sister, Ophelia Sowle's, birthday, I threw up all over her cake right in front of all her classmates. After that, she was shunned by everyone at school. She spiraled into depression and even slashed her wrists. It didn't matter where I was, at the dinner table or under the covers. I could start vomiting at any moment. My mother and Ophelia had to clean me up more than 30 times a day. It wore them down to the breaking point. What infuriated them the most was that every time I finished throwing up, I would look at them and laugh, as if I was mocking them. The judge brought the gavel down and declared me guilty of being born bad. Ophelia's eyes turned red as she cried, saying she couldn't bear to lose me. I didn't cry or fight it. I accepted the verdict. But I requested that the judge watch my memories first. The judge looked stunned. "Memory extraction means drilling into your brain. The pain is unbearable. Are you sure?" I nodded without hesitation. But Ophelia suddenly panicked. "I don't agree!"

My wife dies in an accident, leaving me and our son, who's just started kindergarten, behind. I barely make it through the funeral. However, when I get home, my in-laws come knocking with my wife's brother in tow. They want to take over my wife's fortune, including an old bungalow my parents left me for me in the city. I finally realize that my wife has changed me so much that her family has never seen me tearing people's throats out.

During the New Year’s, on the highway back home to our hometown, my younger brother pestered us to stop for a bathroom break. My mother nudged both my older sister and me. “The next rest stop is quite far from here. You should head to the washroom; otherwise, you’ll regret it later. “Be quick; don’t dilly-dally!” Just as I jumped out, my family’s car pulled away and started driving away. The temperature was close to the freezing point, but my parents left me behind at an unmanned rest stop. I could only rush over and yell after them, “Dad! Mom!”

They caught my fiancé with my sister on the night of our engagement party. Tangled in a private wine cellar. My family name was dragged through the mud. We became the laughingstock of the Chicago Outfit. Then came Don Lorenzo Falcone. He proposed in front of all the Families, saving my honor and forging a more powerful alliance. For four years, he put me on a pedestal. But an old injury left him unable to father an heir. This year, through the family’s private doctor, I finally got pregnant. After that, his devotion became absolute. I thought this powerful man was my savior. My only protector. Until I heard him talking to his right-hand man. “Boss, Arabella worships you. How could you do it? You had the doctor switch the vials, made Arabella the surrogate for the Moretti heir. Just 'cause Isabella couldn't handle the pain? The kid’s due in two months. What’s the plan?” He was silent for a moment. When he spoke, his voice was ice. “When the child is born, it goes to Isabella. It's the only thing that guarantees her future with the Morettis.” “And Arabella?” “I’ll tell her the baby didn’t make it.” “She’ll still be Mrs. Falcone. She’ll have everything she could ever want.” So that was it. My great protector. All of it… for another woman. This tainted bloodline? I don’t want it in me. And this sham of a marriage? I’m done.

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.

I am the youngest daughter of the White family. As rulers of the Moon Shadow pack, the White family showered me with love from the young age. That was until my brothers brought home an orphaned Omega named Calista. In less than a month, she had stolen all the affection that once belonged to me. All it took was a slight frown from me when she tried to move into my bedroom, and my eldest brother, the Alpha, slapped me on the face. My second brother, the Beta, locked me in the cellar. I never wanted to compete with Calista. All I wanted was to live the rest of my days quietly. But on the day of my eighteenth birthday, Calista falsely accused me of attacking her when I shifted. My brothers called me evil, and they cut all ties with me. They believed that I was spoiled rotten and that my jealousy of Calista had made me turn vicious. Little did they know that I had already secretly applied to be the guard of the Land of Winter and to live there in solitude for 20 years. After this farewell, I would never see them again. On the day that I left, they all broke down in regret.

After I get reborn, I've orchestrated every missed moment with my biological parents. When they want to take my adopted sister, Simone Graham, to take a family portrait, I'll take cold showers so that I can catch a fever. When they decide to book a cruise ship overseas in order to celebrate Simone's birthday, I join a classified project, which stops me from leaving the country. When they start a company for Simone, I quickly apply to get dispatched to South City, which is 600 miles away from my hometown. I also make sure to declare that I will never fight with Simone over anything in life. In my previous lifetime, Simone and I had been fighting over our parents' affection for decades. But all I got were comments on how manipulative and cunning I was. Everyone preferred Simone, who was pure and innocent, while showing disdain toward me, who was a woman of little words. Even my own husband and child couldn't understand my pain at all. "We're all family here, aren't we? Can't you just stop your dramatics for a few days? Whenever I come home, you always start a fight and cause unrest among everyone! You really should reflect on your own actions!" Just like that, I died on my sickbed all alone. When I open my eyes again, I've returned to the day I get accepted back into my family. This time, I'm not going to fight anymore. I'm going to live for myself instead.

When my parents got old, they needed someone to take care of them. Katerina—my younger sister—was off to Amiraka with her smug husband Chris. Meanwhile, I was crammed into a two-bedroom in Bellavaro with my husband Pavel, who drove a taxi. Mom had no retirement savings, so guess who she dumped herself on? Yep—me. Dad took the cash and ran straight to Katerina. Our place was tiny, but we still gave Mom the master bedroom. She hated it. Constant complaints, constant drama. According to her, life with me was pure misery. Every night, she'd hop on video call with Katerina, gushing about Amiraka like it was heaven, while throwing shade at me for not "taking care of her properly." Meanwhile, I was drowning—trying to hold it together for Mom, help my daughter prep for exams, support a husband with spine problems, and check in on aging in-laws. Mom didn't care. She wanted a plane ticket to Amiraka to party for Katerina's birthday. I snapped. We had a blowout fight, and she collapsed—brain hemorrhage. Even in her hospital bed, she stared me down, whining Katerina's name like a broken record. Then she spat out, "I should've never picked a useless daughter like you!" My chest cracked in half. I blacked out. When I woke up—I was ten years younger. Back to the day they decided who'd get stuck taking care of them. This time, Mom didn't wait. "I want Katerina to take care of me. It's my turn to enjoy life!"