Kakashi's Son Novels & Stories

After the night of betrayal, Jada is faced with a choice: forget her past and start her future with the man she hated with all her being, or face the consequences of her past decision.Mr. Hudson nodded slowly, his eyes still fixed on Leon's retreating figure. "You have my support, Jada. I always have and always will. And as for you, Chase, I may not have approved of your relationship with my granddaughter before as her father had wanted, but I can see now that you truly love her and have her best interests at heart. You have my blessing.""Let's just hope you, my dearest cousin, stick with this other man this time." Maria's voice was laced with bitterness as she spoke, her eyes fixed on Jada. "Because I clearly remember you causing such a fuss over marrying Mr. Aniston and even kneeling before grandfather and the family to turn down his proposal. It's so damn alerting how your feeling changes, Jada. So, for this family's sake and our reputation, let's hope your little feelings don't change from him to someone else again."

My parents had always played favorites. On my birthday, the house was completely empty. Meanwhile, my older brother, Howard Moore, posted a nine-photo grid on social media, showing off a huge birthday cake. In every picture, Mom and Dad were gathered around him, smiling like they couldn’t be prouder. I called them. Laughter poured through the phone from the other end. Still, I gathered every bit of courage I had and asked softly, “Why didn’t I even get a happy birthday?” The line went silent for a second. Then Mom’s bright, smiling voice came through. “Because Howard is handsome. Taking him out makes us look good. But you? Those hooded eyes and that bulbous nose. Honestly, if we didn’t feel sorry for you, we would’ve gotten rid of you a long time ago.” Howard took the phone from her and said gently, “You know you’re adopted, right? Did you really think you were one of us?” I stood there for a long time, too stunned to move. After that, I stopped talking. But deep down, I still craved the love of my biological parents. So I secretly made a post online, looking for my biological family. I didn’t expect Howard to find it. He took a screenshot and sent it to the school’s anonymous gossip account. “The fake Moore kid is looking for his parents. Anyone lose an ugly little kid?” I cried for a long time. Then late that night, I walked past their bedroom door, which had been left slightly open. Howard’s laughter floated out, clear and bright. “He actually believed it! This is hilarious! Let’s hire someone to pretend to be his parents. I can’t wait to see him on his knees, begging us.” Dad took a sip of his tea. “Do whatever you want.” Mom added, “Just don’t go too far.” Outside the door, my fingers slowly loosened around the doorknob.

Alesha, was born into a well-respected family, has harmonious parents, and loves her children. Alesha's life is almost perfect after she finds her soul mate. However, all of that changed when Alesha made a nightly mistake with a foreign man, which finally made Alesha decide to leave because, in her womb, there was a seed from that foreign man. So, will Alesha know who the father of the fetus she is carrying is? while Alesha also never knew what the man's face looked like.  

They called me a gold digger. A barren fool. A street rat in designer heels. For three years, I played the perfect wife to an aging, cheating husband. I bit my tongue through their cruel snickers, desperate to earn a place in a family that never wanted me. I endured everything—humiliation, betrayal, loneliness—all for a child that never came. But when my arrogant stepdaughter brought home her shiny new fiancé that fateful evening, fate handed me a new game to play. This time, I wasn’t begging to belong. This time, I was ready to burn it all down—with a smile on my face.

The day before the company retreat, the CEO suddenly sent a message in the company group chat. [How's your leg?] The group chat, which had been buzzing with excitement just moments before, instantly went silent. To protect the CEO's dignified image, I immediately found a CT scan report and sent it into the chat. [Thank you for your concern, Mr. Graham. I already got my leg checked. The doctor said it's nothing serious.] This time, the CEO replied almost immediately. [Good. I'm glad you're okay. You can submit the claims for medical expenses. You can also take another two weeks off.] The group chat instantly flooded with comments praising him. [Mr. Graham is so thoughtful.] [He really cares about his employees.] I was secretly proud of my high emotional intelligence when I suddenly received a friend request from someone claiming to be the CEO's fiancee. [So you're the homewrecker who's been seducing Christopher at work! You're really something, aren't you? Why would he ask about your leg in the middle of the night? [If you have the guts, send your leg photos to the group chat and let everyone admire them!] The sip of water I just took nearly sprayed all over my screen I looked down at the dog curled up in my arms. Its name was Hammie. I then glanced at the family photo hanging on the wall. What homewrecker? I was literally the CEO's mother!

MORAL DISCLAIMER This is not a fairy tale. This is a descent. The following story explores themes of obsession, systemic betrayal, and high-stakes psychological warfare within a fractured family. It is deeply, unapologetically morally gray. If you are looking for heroes, turn back now. If you are looking for the truth behind the "perfect" mask, step inside—but don't say you weren't warned.

When my husband accompanies his childhood sweetheart to the vet to treat her pet fish, my son accidentally spills his drink on her. My husband watches as his childhood sweetheart's eyes redden. Then, he slaps my son hard and throws a stack of cash at him. "This is your chance to make up for your mistakes. Buy Wendy a dress—make sure it's white!" My son dries his tears while holding onto the money. He roams the streets, searching for a white dress in the middle of the night. When he finally finds one, he ends up getting beaten to death by some drunk hooligans. Even in death, he clutches the bloodied skirt tightly. I burst into tears of despair as I hold onto his body and call my husband over a dozen times. However, he's too busy with his childhood sweetheart's fish. He blocks my number. When he finally calls me back, he sounds icy and angry. "Wendy is still waiting for that dress! Where has the little brat gone to? Can't he even handle such a simple task?"

Three years ago, my husband, my parents, and my adopted sister faked their deaths to test whether I had married into the DeLuca family for love or for power. They cut off my money, took my home, and left me and my son with nothing. Three years later, they came back. My husband stepped out of a black Rolls-Royce, looked down at me, and said, “Evelyn, you passed the test.” What he didn’t know was that my son was already dead. And I was dying too.

When my son was found after we lost him three years ago, he forgot all about me and hid behind another omega woman, calling her Mommy instead. To keep my son close, I let the omega stay in my pack, never expecting I’d caught her in my bed with my Alpha husband. Betrayed by my mate. Rejected by my son. Humiliated before my pack. I lost everything in a single day. When danger came, I still chose to save my son, but he chose to leave me in the woods, bleeding, abandoned and dying. I believed it was the end for me until a stranger lifted me into his arms and whispered: Fated mate.

I am about to be forced to marry the most ruthless old mafia boss in the city. However, one morning, I woke up naked in an unfamiliar bed and realized I had sex with a stranger. The worst thing is, now he is standing in front of me at my engagement dinner. “Mr. Guerrero,” someone says to my fiancé from behind me. “Your son has arrived.” Great. My one night stand is my fiance's son. When I ask him to pretend nothing ever happened. He chuckles. “And what if I don’t want that, future-Mrs.-Guerrero?” My breath catches when he leans in close, his breath hovering over my ear. “Or… should I call you mother?”