Kevin Selleck Biological Father

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 mom was born with a silver spoon in her mouth. Her life is smooth-sailing most of the time. The only mistake she's ever made is falling for my dad. That's why she insists on finding me a husband who's the complete opposite of my dad. My dad is tall and intimidating-looking, so Mom wants someone who's short and perverted-looking. My dad is a knowledgeable and well-read man, so Mom wants a guy who has only graduated from elementary school. My dad prioritizes his moral integrity more than anything else, so Mom prefers a guy who drinks, gambles, and sleeps around. She tells me, "This type of man is easy to manipulate, unlike your father, who just divorced me out of nowhere!" It's true that the man Mom has chosen for me won't divorce me. After all, he leeches from me on top of beating me up. It's not enough to leech my money from me, it seems—he just has to take everything from me. My mom says in a righteous tone, "This is the only way that proves you're valuable to him. He won't divorce you at all." I've fought back and escaped from my husband many times. Every time I do, my mom will trick me into returning to him by hurting herself. As always, I'm greeted with another round of beating whenever I do return to him. Mom will take me to the hospital to get my injuries treated. Then, she'll say, "Hurry up and give birth to a son for him. Once you have a son, you'll be extremely valuable to your husband. He won't beat you up anymore." Today is supposed to be the day Mom takes me to the hospital to check my ovulation timing. She spends a long time calling me on the phone, yet I never pick up. After that, she sends me a few audio messages that last for 60 seconds each just to lecture me. "Beatrice Anderson, what makes you think you can just ignore my calls? The hospital check-up is for your own good! As long as you can get pregnant with a son, your husband will be wrapped around your finger! He won't divorce you after this! Why can't you understand how much I care for you?" I seriously can't understand at all. After all, I've gotten beaten to death yesterday. My corpse is cut into 28 chunks, and they are being frozen in the fridge as I speak.

My daughter has been kidnapped, and the kidnapper is asking for five million dollars as ransom. I can just about scrounge the money together, but the kidnapper makes it clear that he wants a life in exchange for my daughter's. He'll take the money and kill the person who brings it to him. I smoke throughout the night, my eyes bloodshot as I try to think of something. Then, I fix my gaze on my mother, who is now senile and insane.

Felicia Turner did not expect to be that crazy to accept a deal with her big boss, even though she knew the rumours were spreading about how annoying and creepy the alpha Lionel Walton was—being the contract lover of the number one alpha? Money has made her forget reality! So, what's next for Felicia? Will her life be safe, or will Lionel and his admirers give Felicia a headache that will disturb the omega's pheromones?

I had always been fragile, the kind of kid who could not handle a gust of wind without losing balance and who teared up over the smallest thing. The day my biological parents found me and took me back into their wealthy world, everything had already felt unreal. Then, things got worse. Out of nowhere, an old woman came sprinting down the street and dropped right in front of the Bentley, like she had timed it perfectly. I panicked and completely froze, so I did the only thing I could think of. I dropped down beside her and started crying. However, I overdid it. I cried so hard that blood started streaming from my eyes. The old woman jolted upright like she had seen something horrifying. She shoved 500 dollars into my hands, muttered a string of curses, and ran off without looking back. Just like that, I was back with the Snyder family. The house rose in front of me, all polished stone and perfectly kept lawns, like something out of a magazine. However, the closer I got, the more my nerves kicked in, and that familiar metallic taste crept up my throat again. The so-called heir walked over, smiling like we were supposed to be close. Then, he gave me a light shove. He leaned in, his voice low enough that only I could hear. "Stay in your place. Don't start wanting things that were never yours." Right there, in front of everyone, I leaned back and collapsed. I did not move at all. He froze. His face turned red as he grabbed my collar and shook me. "Quit pretending. Get up!" A few seconds passed, then a few more, before he slowly turned his head, his movements stiff. Tiny drops of blood speckled his clothes. His voice trembled. "Mom… Dad… I think…" He swallowed hard. "I think he stopped breathing."

Heating starts on the 15th, so I give my mom the money to pay the heating bill two days in advance and ask her to pay it for me. But a week passes, and it still feels like an icehouse in my apartment. I am on the phone complaining to my younger brother's wife, Selena Lyons, who lives upstairs. "You are right not to pay the heating fee. I paid, and it made no difference. We're freezing to death here." From the other end of the call, I faintly hear my nephew shouting, "Mom, it's so hot! I want a popsicle!"

Everyone loved my older sister. When the novel I wrote shot to popularity, she got jealous and suddenly proclaimed that she wanted to be a popular author too. My older brother, who was the editor-in-chief, immediately announced that I plagiarized my sister's story at my book signing and she ended up becoming the genius author while I got cyberbullied so much that I was too scared to leave the house. After I got married to a young heir from high society and lived a happy life, my sister told me that she had a crush on him for years and wanted to be his bride at least once in her lifetime. He did not even think twice about divorcing me and holding the wedding of the century with my sister. My family was afraid that I would sabotage their relationship, so they made me leave the country. However, my sister did not think that I was miserable enough. She came for me outside the country and pushed me down the stairs. I was lying in a pool of blood when my mother rebuked me, "Did you say something that made your sister unhappy again?" That was how I died in despair. When I opened my eyes again, I had returned to the day my brother accused me of plagiarism.

My brother Raymond hated me for seven years. After a bitter fight on a freezing winter night, I stormed out and drove away. I never expected a blizzard to fall so suddenly. It blinded my vision. I was attacked by a rogue, injected with a poison that could erase memories and sever blood bonds. My memories became fragmented. When I woke up in the pack’s infirmary, Raymond stood there with a cold expression and casually pointed at a gravely ill male werewolf lying in bed. “He’s your brother. Stop bothering me.” I was stunned. The male werewolf pushed himself up and took my freezing hand, his eyes gentle.
“Come on. I’ll take you home.” After that, I no longer saw Raymond as my brother—just as he wished. So why was he suddenly begging for my acknowledgement after casting me aside so eagerly?

My father raised me on one principle: fair exchange. If I wanted anything, I had to earn it myself. Fifty cents for washing the dishes. A dollar for mopping the floor. Five dollars for a perfect score on a test. To buy the pair of white sneakers I had been dreaming of, I spent three months collecting recyclables. In that house, I lived like a pieceworker, paid by the task. It was not until my senior year of high school that everything began to crack. I collapsed during morning study, my body worn down by years of malnutrition. The doctor said I needed better nutrition. My father stood by my hospital bed and started doing the math. "Three hundred for the hospital stay. Two hundred for medication. Chester, this all goes on your tab for the future." I turned my head and saw a boy in a school uniform in the next bed. His father was feeding him spoonfuls of chicken soup, his eyes red with worry. In that moment, the world I had known for 18 years fell apart. It turned out not every child had to earn their parents' love. After I was discharged, I went home and saw the pair of designer sneakers on my brother's feet; it was worth thousands. That was when I finally woke up. I tore up the family photo and, without hesitation, applied to the college farthest from home. Ten years later, my father called me in tears. My brother had taken all his retirement savings, sold the house, and run off with his girlfriend. He was left with nothing. No home. No one. I smiled and tossed him a rag. "Want a place to stay? Sure. It's 50 cents per window. Earn your own rent."

Since I was a little girl, my mom had always taught me that I deserve all the good things in life. When I was still a student, my copycat roommate bought the same outfit that I had on purpose. She even asked me if she looked fat in it. I just shook my head. "I don't know. I, for one, have an amazing figure, so it definitely looks good on me." Once I start working, a male colleague decides to pursue me. So, I come up with an excuse on the spot and tell him that I already have a boyfriend. He looks at me with pain etched in his eyes. Then, he asks me if I'll take him into consideration after I break up with my boyfriend. I just sneer at him in return. "It seems that you don't love me enough. Otherwise, why aren't you offering to become my side piece?" Due to my principles, everyone keeps cursing me out and calling me an arrogant woman who has no sense of shame behind my back. But one day, when my blind date hears about my personality quirk, he decides to take me back to his home to visit his mother during the holidays. "My mom is the type who keeps demeaning herself for no reason. She keeps claiming that she's unworthy of anything in life. I swear, she's driving me mad! "If you can help my mom get rid of this habit, I'll give you whatever you want." This is definitely an interesting proposal. So, I accept it confidently with a pat on the chest. "Don't worry. Leave it to me."