My Father Brother Novels & Stories

That's the cue for Butler Warren to help my father and hold my father's arm and guided him out. "You want me out? Amp! Fine." He said and dismissively pouted before looking away and walking out. My brother and I glance at each other before laughing. "I could hear you guys!" My Father is not that old but he just came out from the hospital month ago. The doctor said he needs to be careful and maintain his health. "Brother, don't worry it just really a nightmare. I'll call you if I need help. Hmm?" He glance at my feet and glared at me before he carried me towards my bed.

The way my brother said it, It sounded like my father actually hit him and knocked him out. My father walked up to my brother and pulled him in to his arms. My brother wrapped his arms around him and dropped his head on his shoulder. "I'm sorry for yelling at you father." "It's okay son, I understand you were angry and just wanted to make sure your brother was okay." My father said then pulled back and pressed a kiss to his forehead. "I'm too old for that crap!" My brother said as he wiped his forehead. My dad chuckled while shaking his head. "You're never too old!"

“Your uncle is coming.” There was only one of my father’s brother she referred to as my uncle, and My expression darkened too as. A man who shared the same face with my father, but they were nothing alike. I don’t know their history, but they never liked each other. When my father inherited the family business, he sided with their elder brother, Damien’s father. “And when were you going to tell me that?” My voice tensed up.

I asked, my tone ringing with displeasure as I stared at him, I couldn't believe that after everything Bobby had done to him, my father would still think about Bobby's life, "No, I'm not..." His response came almost immediately, "It's just that no matter what, he's still your brother after all," my father replied, his voice tinged with pain and regret, "Brother?" I scoffed, I felt like I had just heard a ridiculous joke, I mean how can I refer to someone who had beaten me to unconsciousness my brother? Or someone who had always found a way to steal away my joy and happiness my brother That's impossible.

Defensive, I say, "Bruce is genuine. He's not a false teacher. We mostly argue because of my father." "What about your father?" "Bruce and I are half brothers—same father with different mothers. We didn't grow up together, then my dad cheated on his mother with my mother, who's now his wife. So as children, needless to say, our moms weren't planning sleepovers for us."

“Damian. Don’t be stupid.” “Eli isn’t part of his world.” “Too late,” the brother says simply. “He already is.” Damian’s pulse picks up—Eli can feel it through their joined hands. The brother turns back to the SUV, pausing as he opens the door. “Oh,” he adds casually over his shoulder. “And Damian?” Damian’s shoulders bunch. “What?” “Father wants an answer by tomorrow.” The door closes. The SUV pulls away silently into the darkness. Leaving Damian and Eli alone in the cold night, breaths visible, hearts pounding, the world suddenly much sharper around the edges.

My father’s voice cut in, firm and uninvited. His hand landed on Diego’s shoulder. He said brother—like it was natural....well it was they have been friends for nearly Four decades, I know calling my dad brother is the least but I never understood how they were friends, They were nothing alike.....I doubt they even have so much in common. I stiffened. “Congratulations, brother,” Uncle Diego said, the word sharp, his grip on my father’s shoulder even tighter. He didn’t look at me as he turned to go. But I could feel what he wasn’t saying.

I asked, throwing the question right back at him. Nikola shrugged, his expression unwavering. "I'd do anything for my brothers," he said, his voice firm. "I'd walk through hell itself to help them." Irritation settled in the pit of my stomach, turning over and over again as I forced myself to push past it. "I'm glad you could say that." "But they're different from Father," he added, his gaze flicking to mine for a brief, piercing moment before snapping back to the road. "My brothers have always had my back, unlike Father, who wouldn't even flinch if something happened to you."

My grandparents believed I was a bad omen for the family, but my father never agreed. To him, I am a blessing from heaven. I know he exaggerates sometimes, but I have never felt like a bad omen. I am happy—and my father taught me how to live life that way. “You like him?” My father’s eyes sparkle when he notices the picture on my bed. I nod, smirking. “Now would you like to tell me who he is?” I ask, resting my head against the headboard. “He is Vincenzo Accardi, brother of King Lorenzo Accardi,” my father says, smiling at the picture. I nod, but then his smile fades slightly.

My father’s second son and his biggest disgrace. The first person to go down. “Welcome,” I murmur, “dear brother, to your hell.”