Hestia Family

My father's adopted daughter was only locked in the cramped storage closet for around fifteen minutes, yet he punished me by tying me up and throwing me inside. He even sealed off the ventilation with towels. "As Wendy's older sister, if you can't take care of her, then you should also experience how scared she was," he declared coldly. He knew I was claustrophobic, but my desperate pleas for mercy, my terror, were met with nothing but heartless reprimands. "Let this be a lesson on how to be a good sister." As the last sliver of light disappeared, swallowed by the oppressive darkness, I struggled helplessly. A week passed before my father finally remembered my existence and decided it was time to end my punishment. "Let's hope this week served as a good lesson for you, Jennifer. If this happens again, you will no longer be allowed in this house." He would never know that I had already taken my last breath in that suffocating room. My body had begun to rot in the darkness.

My sister-in-law finally became pregnant at fifty. But the family parrot, Pip, suddenly said, “Abort it. Abort it.” Hearing this, I immediately forced my sister-in-law to go to the hospital to get an abortion. My brother and parents desperately stopped me. They shouted, “Have you gone mad? Do you trust an animal’s words?” I nodded and answered firmly, “Yes. I believe everything Pip says.”

I finally recovered my sight. Just as I was about to tell my parents about it, a slip of paper on the table caught my attention. "Don't tell your parents you've recovered your sight."

On my eighteenth birthday, my brother Seth brought back my twin sister. She had been snatched from me by kidnappers as a child. She claimed she had nothing, not a single thing to call her own. Seth gave her everything: my room, my dresses, and my awards. He even gave her my childhood fiancé, forcing him to break off our engagement and marry her in a wedding that would take the world by storm. I tried to resist, but Seth scolded me for being childish. "She's your blood sister, yet you complain about every little thing. If you can't learn to be kind, I can't call you my sister anymore." My sister, Serena, fell into the swimming pool later that day and nearly drowned. When she woke up, she cried to our brother, claiming I had pushed her. My brother, Seth, was furious. He sent me away to a remote mountain village. "If you can't learn to be kind, you'll spend the rest of your life here, atoning for your sins. "You can come back only when you kneel before Serena and apologize." Five years passed. Serena and my fiancé held a high-profile engagement ceremony. The entire city celebrated their grand love, certain they would have a happily ever after together. Then, Seth finally remembered me. "Sylvie, five years have passed. Have you learned kindness yet?" I nodded calmly with a blank expression on my face. "Seth, I will kneel before her and apologize." He smiled, praising me for finally being sensible. However, he did not know that I had received a critical medical notice. I had only five days left to live.

My brother Mitchell sided with his dream girl when she accused me of bullying her. Despite being the only family member I had left, he exploded in anger and sent me away to a boarding school for so-called reformation to learn how to become a meek and obedient little sister. In time, I became exactly what he wanted—a docile sibling who never fought back, never argued. But everything changed the day he saw my medical report. He lost his mind. "Nora, I'm begging you—forgive me and let me be your brother again!"

The doctor said I only had three days left to live. Acute liver failure. My only hope was an experimental clinical trial. It was extremely risky, but had the faintest sliver of a chance to survive. But my husband, David, gave the last available spot... to my adopted sister, Emma, also my daughter’s godmother. Her condition was still in its early stages. He said it was the "right decision," because she “deserved to live more.” I signed the papers to forgo treatment and took the high-dose painkillers prescribed by the doctor. The cost? My organs would shut down, and I would die. When I handed over the jewelry company I’d poured my heart into, along with all my designs, to Emma, my parents praised me, saying, “Now that’s what a good big sister should do.” When I agreed to divorce David so he could marry Emma, he said, “You’ve finally learned to be understanding.” When I told my daughter to call Emma ‘Mom,’ she clapped her hands and said, “Emma is such a gentle and kind mother!” When I gave all my assets to Emma, everyone in the family thought it was only natural. No one noticed anything was wrong with me. I’m just curious. Will they still be able to smile when they find out I'm dead?

My sister-in-law, Cynthia Ziegler, has my name written on her cancer diagnosis report. As such, the entire Ziegler family assumes that I'm the one with cancer. Overnight, my husband, Leonard Ziegler, sends a text message to his mistress, Irene Ludlow. "Our time will soon come! That old bat is about to die at last, so I'll finally be able to marry you!" My grandmother, Amanda Powell, cries and clings onto my hand, begging me not to seek treatment. She is not only discussing with Leonard on how best to split my insurance money after my death but also employing various methods to hasten my death. However, they are all unaware that Cynthia used my medical insurance card when she went for her physical examination. I feign sadness and nod with tears in my eyes. "I won't seek treatment, Mom. Let's not seek treatment no matter who is diagnosed with cancer."

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?

My husband was the long-lost heir of the Riso mafia family. In my previous life, my husband Titus Holt's childhood sweetheart, Melissa Gunther, falsely accused me of stealing her family heirloom bracelet. It happened two days before I was set to leave the slums. Just as I was about to defend myself, Titus forcefully dealt with this matter and led Melissa and me out of the slums and back to the Riso family. I thought Titus did so because he trusted me, but then I heard Titus tell Melissa, "Noelle may not be honest, but she's Christian's mother. I can't let her bear the reputation of being a thief." Looking troubled, Christian also commented, "I don't want a thief as a mom. Dad, why did you bring her back? Wouldn't it be better to have Ms. Gunther as my mom?" I felt a chill run through me. It turned out Titus had not done all this out of trust; he just felt I was too embarrassing. Even my son had hated me his whole life. In the blink of an eye, I was reborn back to the day Titus suppressed public opinion. I silently booked a ticket to Swizor. On the day Titus took my son and Melissa back to Napple, I would leave and never see them again.

The night before returning to the Cantrell residence, I had a dream where I was the despised antagonist in a book. In the story, my father had adopted a girl who bore an uncanny resemblance to my late mother. On the day he came to pick me up, he got into a devastating car accident. After that, my second brother, Shawn Cantrell, lashed out, calling me a curse, while my eldest brother, Seth Cantrell, treated me with cold indifference. In the end, I was abandoned by everyone, meeting a tragic and lonely end.