Novel & Cerita Nietzsche Portrait

In the Sinclair pack, I had always been different. Years ago, my grandfather saved the Elder’s life. To repay that debt, the Elder promised that one of his grandsons would become my mate. In my first life, on the night of the Blood Moon, he asked me, “Evelyn, who will you choose?” Blushing, I pointed to the brightest star of the tribe, Andrew Sinclair. But after our wedding, he kept me at a distance. I was confused—until one night, I opened the wrong door. Andrew was on one knee, clutching my cousin Clara’s portrait as if it were his lifeline. His body moved in a way that made my heart twist. My world collapsed. He had never loved me. His heart—his desire—had always belonged to her. Darkness swallowed me, body and soul. My husband lied to me and betrayed the oath we had sworn to the Moon Goddess. The cruel truth broke me, and sickness followed. I died with his child inside me—alone. But the moon gave me another chance. I woke again on that same night. The Elder smiled down at me. Four portraits lay before him. “Evelyn, tonight is your twenty-first rite. Who will you choose?” “You’ve always chased Andrew,” he said kindly. “It must be him—” “No!” The hall fell silent. “Grandfather… I don’t want Andrew.” In panic, I snatched a portrait. “I want him!” The boy on the page wore black. His skin was pale, his lips curved in a mad, crooked smile. William Sinclair. The sick wolf. The one everyone mocked. But I remembered how he had tried to help me find a good doctor. He was the only one who had cared about me when I was dying. And yes—this time, I chose him.

The biggest mistake I had ever made was falling in love with my Alpha stepbrother, Cayden Gates. I was 12 when my mom remarried, and he was the only one in the new pack who treated me kindly. I fell for him at first sight. When I was 16, I was attacked by rogue wolves, and he fought off ten of them alone to protect me. At 18, he was poisoned by silver. He nearly died. That was when my wolf told me he was my fated mate. Without hesitation, I donated my bone marrow to save him. That night, watching him asleep with a pale face, I couldn't help but kiss the corner of his lips. He opened his eyes at that exact moment, his face flushing red. "Tessa, we're siblings. You shouldn't cross that line." From then on, he started avoiding me, like I was a mistake he couldn't afford to make. His fiancée, Rosie Lloyd, had been diagnosed with a rare blood disease, and I was the only compatible donor. For the first time, he pleaded with me. "If you're willing to save her, I'll agree to anything." But I was already weak from the marrow transplant. Giving blood again might kill me. I said no, and Rosie died in the end. He didn't shed a single tear, like nothing had happened. But at her funeral, he smashed the portrait I'd painted of him in front of everyone and said coldly, "How filthy of you to dream of being with your own brother." Later, I became a disgrace, a walking joke. Humiliation and despair swallowed me whole, and in a haze, I fell into the lake and drowned. When I open my eyes again, I'm back at the moment he begs me for blood. I say yes calmly. I consider it the final debt I owe the Gates family. Cayden, from now on, we're done. There are no more ties between us.

My mom has been brainwashing me with her "quid pro quo" rule. Apparently, I must work hard in earning money just to get whatever I want. A round of doing the dishes earns me 50 cents. Mopping the floor once grants me one dollar. If I get a full score in my exams, that'll be five dollars. In order to buy a pair of white sneakers that I had had my eye on for a long time, I spent three months picking up trash from the streets. I lived like a maid who was paid on one-time services in this home. When I was a high school senior, I fainted during my homeroom period due to long periods of malnutrition. Even though my doctor suggested to my mom to pay attention to my nutrient intake, she began calculating the costs in front of my sick bed instead. "Your hospitalization costs 300 dollars. On top of that, you have a 200-dollar medical bill to settle. All of these costs will be reflected on your wedding gifts in the future, Emily." But when I turned my head, I saw a student sitting on the bed being fed chicken noodle soup by her own mother. Said mother was so heartbroken by her daughter's illness that she kept shedding tears as well. At that moment, my outlook on the world, that I had been maintaining for 18 long years, finally crumbled into dust. It turned out that not all children needed to work hard just to feel their parents' love. After getting discharged from the hospital and returning home, I finally sobered up the moment I noticed the sneakers that my younger brother, Arnold Baird, wore that cost several thousands of dollars. Then, I tore the family portrait into pieces and didn't hesitate to fill in the university that was located the furthest from home when it was time for me to submit my post-graduation details. Ten years later, my mom calls me on the phone. She starts crying to me how Arnold has swindled her out of her pension. Apparently, he's even sold the house just so he can elope with his girlfriend. Not only is my mom alone now, but she doesn't have a place to stay as well. I just smile as I throw her a piece of rag. "You want to live with me, huh? No problem. You'll earn 50 cents for every window you wipe. You can earn your rent like this."