Novel & Cerita New Proud Family Characters

The day I died, the baby in my womb was only five months old. In that final phone call, my father, John Harlow, the godfather of the Harlow family, spoke with a voice as icy as a loaded gun. "A married woman belongs to her husband's family, even in death." When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day I had been placed under house arrest. He was circling my college application with a red pen. "Girls who study art are easier to marry off." In front of him, I tore the family's marriage alliance files into pieces. "I'm going to Camford University. I'm studying Computer Science." He sprang to his feet so suddenly that his finger nearly jabbed my face, his sleeve cuff revealing the family crest tattoo. "If you dare defy me, don't ever regard me as godfather." I smiled. "Exactly what I want." Meeting his stunned gaze, I spoke each word deliberately. "The name Harlow. I have long stopped wanting it."

My brother convinced my father to give me to the principal of an elite high school. When the principal was treating me like a dog, they showed off to the world with the money and the spot in the high school they had exchanged me for. I knew nothing about this and waited for them to rescue me. It was not until the principal showed me a video of how they were living a proud and happy life that I broke down in desperation and helplessness. On my third failed attempt at escape, the principal whipped me with a leather belt until I was almost dying. After that, he let his precious son, a German shepherd, torture me to death. When I next opened my eyes, I had returned to a time when none of this had happened yet. Well, my dear father and brother, do you think things would work out the way you want this time?

I died on my birthday, but neither my parents nor my husband noticed. They were too busy pouring all their attention into planning my twin sister, Esme Shaw's, birthday party. While she was surrounded by people helping her pick out a gown, I was tied up and thrown into the basement. With what little strength I had left, I forced my broken fingers to press in the code—9395. It was a signal my husband, Edwin Grant, and I had once agreed on. It was a straightforward way to call for help in the event of danger. I never thought I would actually need it one day. But when I sent it, he didn't believe me. His reply was cold, "Claudia, just because I didn't take you shopping for a new dress, you've decided to put on a show? "You can still wear last year's gown. Stop making trouble. I'll see you at the party later." What he didn't know was that Esme had already shredded that gown into pieces. And what he couldn't imagine was that the moment after he hung up, I was already gone. So, when the celebration began, I never appeared. But when everyone saw the birthday gift I had prepared for Esme ahead of time, the entire room lost its mind.

When my boyfriend came to my family home to ask for my hand in marriage, my sister-in-law, who was usually cold and aloof, became a completely different person. She flung her arm around me warmly and asked, “Cassie, who’s your favorite? This boyfriend or one of the dozen or so men that you’ve brought home before?” As I denied her accusation and interrupted her, she cheekily batted her eyelashes at my boyfriend and cooed, “Oh, yes, yes. Cassie has never brought another man home. You’re the lucky first!” In the midst of dinner, she deliberately took her own soiled underwear out of the bathroom, pinched her nose, and waved it around as she screeched, “Oh my goodness, Cassie! I know you don’t really care about hygiene, but we have guests today! How can you have no shame? It smells so bad!”

The day my college acceptance letter arrived, Dad cooked a whole table of my favorite dishes. Then he poured himself a full glass of liquor and downed it in one go. “Nineteen years ago, I switched you with my biological son so he could grow up with the city’s wealthiest family and live like a prince. “I kept you from studying because I was afraid you’d turn out too impressive and they’d come looking for you. “But today, their whole family is moving overseas. You’ll never find your real parents now.” He smiled cruelly. “You’re just a loser who got into some mediocre college. You were beaten half-deaf, and you’re missing a kidney. Why would they ever want you back?” I looked at him in silence. What he would never know was that the wealthy family had switched the babies back nineteen years ago. I had been his biological son all along.

On the morning of my eighteenth birthday, I collapsed in the pack clinic after my ninety-ninth blood donation to my twin sister, Maeve. She'd been cursed since birth—a curse that could only be sustained by my blood. Our shared bond from the womb was the only thing keeping the dark magic at bay. When I woke up, the healer told me I had developed Aplastic anemia—a rare condition where my bone marrow was failing. Years of constant donations had finally broken my body down, and my wolf, Aurora, was too weak to fight it. I rushed to tell my family, hoping that this time would be different, only to find them at the bakery ordering a custom birthday cake with only Maeve's name on it. They'd forgotten my birthday entirely, even though we were twins born five minutes apart. At first, my sacrifice was met with love and praise. Now, it was nothing more than an obligation everyone expected. My family had chosen Maeve over me countless times before. This time, I decided to choose myself. I had two weeks before I would slip away from this pack house and their lives. Two weeks to prepare everything in silence while they remained oblivious. They would think I'd finally learned my place as Maeve's blood supply. But they would never realize I was counting down the days until I disappeared from their lives forever. By then, it would be too late.

I still have a week before my due date when a truck suddenly hits me, sending me flying several feet and leaving me bleeding profusely on the ground. As I lose consciousness, I call my husband, Wallace Brown, begging him to rush over and save our unborn child, only for him to reply coldly, "It's Beth's 18th birthday party today, Meryl. You can't seriously be pulling one of your stunts on a day like this, can you?" In the next instant, I hear my son, Daniel Brown, exclaiming, "You're always using the baby to threaten us, Mommy! I really hate it when you do that!" Wallace stresses the importance of Beth's birthday party again, demands that I attend immediately, and then hangs up on me. With a pool of blood spreading beneath me, I close my eyes, overcome by despair. When I open my eyes again, I am met by the sight of a death certificate. The doctor delivers a crushing pronouncement. "I'm sorry, but if you had gotten here sooner, we might have been able to save the baby's life…" I look at the death certificate, feeling as though my heart died with my baby. I finally decide to leave this family, yet now they're the ones begging me to stay.

On the day of my birthday, my adopted sister, Juliette Griffin, and I get into a car accident. The flames are already licking me hungrily, and yet my fiance, Leon Sinclair, points at the front passenger seat. "Save Juliette first! She has a heart disease!" When I wake up, I'm completely disfigured. At most, I only have one month left to live. Later on, my family decides that Juliette will marry Leon on my behalf for the sake of our families' interests. Leon caresses my bandaged face with heartbreak in his eyes. He then vows to me, "Once you get better, the position of Mrs. Sinclair is still yours." I just smile and say okay. I even give all of my shares, properties, and my unpublished artwork to Juliette as her pre-wedding gifts. Just like that, Juliette becomes a famous artist by publishing my artwork. When the reporters interview Mom, she's so happy that she bursts into tears. "I'm so glad that Juliette isn't the one who got badly hurt in the accident! Otherwise, we'd have lost a genius!" Leon also announces in a high-profile manner that Juliette will be his one and only wife. But what they don't know is that the actual genius is gazing at them coldly from a corner. The things that I've voluntarily given away from the start are actually offerings meant for my vengeance.

When I was seven years old, my younger brother went into anaphylactic shock after sneaking a handful of peanuts. Outside the emergency room, my mother slammed my head against the wall over and over, her face twisted with rage. "If you had been watching him like you were supposed to be, this never would have happened! You should be the one with a ruptured stomach, not him!" After that, whenever my brother so much as caught a cold, my mother forced me to eat spoiled leftovers as punishment. I once prepared an elaborate feast. She flipped the entire table and made me crawl on the floor to lick it clean. When I said I wanted to study culinary arts, she poured hot oil over my hands. My father wanted to send me to vocational school to learn a trade, but my mother clutched my brother to her chest and wailed. "She destroyed her brother's health! She owes him a lifetime of service!" When I was fifteen, my brother's gluttony cost my father an important business deal. I took the blame without even being asked, and the furious client forced me to drink more than half a gallon of hard liquor. By the time I was sent home with a bleeding stomach, my father had already scolded my brother. My mother took out her anger on me instead, slapping me so hard my ears rang and my vision went dark at the edges. "You useless thing! You should’ve choked to death at that table! I get sick just looking at you!" I coughed up black blood. From my pocket, I pulled out a piece of sour candy that had gone soft and sticky. It was the only treat my mother had ever given me with a smile, back before my brother's allergic reaction. I put the candy in my mouth and swallowed it down with the taste of stomach acid. The candy was so sour it made my throat burn. Whatever came next, I just hoped I would not have to be my family’s garbage disposal again.

When my brother, Adrian Carter, storms out of the house in anger, I go out in the pouring rain to find him—only to be struck by a fallen live wire, resulting in the complete loss of both my arms. From then on, I, who dreamed of becoming a doctor, have been doomed to be a patient forever. I make multiple attempts on my life. My family wrestles me back from the clutches of death every time. Adrian crouches down in front of me and begs, "It's my fault. Please don't die." Mom quits her job and keeps me company all day long. "You mean more to me than my life! What am I supposed to do if you're gone?" To earn more money and help me regain the ability to live normally, Dad works as hard as he can and even takes on more work abroad. I assume that life will eventually get better. But after I've finally learned how to use my feet in place of my hands for everything, I inadvertently overhear a conversation. "If I'd known this would happen, I wouldn't have stopped her from killing herself." The next day, I climb to the rooftop alone. The wind is howling. It makes me sniffle, but no tears fall.