Remorse Family

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.

I spent six months and a quarter million dollars to secure a week in Sicily. But when my husband’s childhood obsession, Chiara, cried nostalgia into his ear, Dante didn’t hesitate. He removed my name from the armored motorcade roster and replaced it with hers. He told me to take a commercial flight alone through rival family territory—a route where three associates had “disappeared” last month. The entire famiglia supported Dante’s decision without a single thought for my safety. So I changed my itinerary. I boarded a plane to Monaco instead of Palermo. I spent three months at the roulette tables, ignoring their frantic calls. That was when the famiglia started to bleed…

Justin Davidson and Eva Walker, the long-lost heiress of the Walker family, fell in love. But Eva's adopted sister, Stella, drove a wedge between them. Even after Stella’s death, Justin couldn’t let go of her. He trampled Eva’s dignity, hurt her body, and forced her to wear Stella’s wedding dress and ring when he proposed. Eva’s parents only had eyes for Stella, too. To pressure Eva further, Justin even went so far as to hurt Eva's grandmother, the one who had raised her. On the day of the wedding rehearsal, Eva finally decided to walk away. However, when the truth came out, Justin dropped to his knees and begged her not to leave.

My family was attacked by rogue wolves when we entered their territory. My wolf was gravely injured, and in the end, I was the one who saved everyone.
As I collapsed, exhausted, no one came to me—they all ran to my adopted sister, Fiona, fussing over a few shallow scratches.
By the time pack members carried me to the infirmary, the healer delivered the cruel news: my wolf had been struck by a silver dagger, and the one-month-old pup in my womb wouldn’t survive.
Yet my mate, Luke, had given the only life-saving treatment to Fiona. With no other choice, I refused the healer’s remedies and numbed my wolf’s pain with crude herbs—knowing it would only buy us three days before death.
In those last days, I let everything go. I gave Fiona all my possessions and insurance money while my parents smiled in approval. I signed the bond-severing agreement Luke slid across the table without a second thought. Luke was satisfied, believing I was considerate. Kane, my brother, nodded his head when I told him to give my room to Fiona.
Even my son, Jim, squealed with joy when I asked him to call her “mom.” No one questioned why I gave all my belongings to Fiona, and their approving gazes said it all: “Good. The old Emma is back. But as the clock ticked down, one thought haunted me:
When they find our bodies—my wolf and my unborn pup—will that satisfaction turn to regret?

I was diagnosed with late stage the Hollowing—Wolf Soul Degeneration. According to the Compatible Soul Restructuring Program, I could survive by receiving a soul transplant. If no match were found, I would be brain-dead in three months. After more than two months of waiting, the soul that matched me best was given away by my mate to my sister. The therapist recommended that I keep waiting for a new match, but I refused. I signed a treatment waiver and left Central Medical Center early. All the wealth and resources I had spent years saving—I gave every last bit to my sister, Lisa. For the first time, during the full moon family dinner, my parents smiled at me. My mate moved into Lisa’s room to take care of her. I did not get angry. I even made him breakfast. Even when my little pup asked if she could be his mom, I nodded and said yes. I gave them everything they wanted. So why are they regretting it now? …

I was the top engineer at the National Deep-Sea Institute—and the only person in the world with real deep-sea rescue experience. When my younger brother's submarine went down and he called for help from 35,000 feet below, I hung up on him. Then, calm and unhurried, I went straight to the police station and turned myself in for leaking classified research data. A few minutes later, my father called, furious. "Your brother's life is hanging by a thread—where the hell are you?! I demand you to get to the site and save him right now, or you won't see a single penny of the family fortune!" I pulled the blanket over myself and said into the phone, perfectly composed, "Busy. Don't bother me—I'm trying to sleep."

Being the only daughter of the Calhoun family, a mafia family in Merovia, I am doted on like a princess. This changes when I turn 18, when Mom dies. On the way back from a family meeting, the car blows up, and Mom shields me beneath her. Even as she lies in a pool of blood, her gaze is tender as she says to me, "Don't blame yourself, sweetheart. I love you." Still, after Mom's death, everyone in the family starts blaming me for what happened, including Dad and my older brother, William Calhoun. I go from being the princess of the family to the jinx that everyone hates. Soon after that, Dad brings home a new adopted daughter, Juliet Calhoun. William favors her and detests me. Even my childhood sweetheart, Shawn Kramer, takes a liking to her and ignores me. Dad says his new adopted daughter is way better than his biological one. They all agree to attend my college graduation ceremony. But on the day, they end up taking Juliet onto our family's yacht and holding a cocktail party out on the water to celebrate the official addition of a new family heir. This is the 100th time they ditch me for her. Unable to stop myself from an emotional breakdown, I cry out, "I'm the one who's related to you by blood!" Dad shields Juliet, who backs away from me out of fear. Then, he slaps me on the face. "I wish I'd never had you." "Who wants to have a younger sister like you? I wish you'd died with Mom!" William roars in contempt. This time, I've decided to let it all go. I call Aunt Marissa, Mom's sister. She's the founder and a therapist at MindCare Treatment Center. "Come here. This is your home now." I know that Mom's death was a conspiracy. This isn't just me leaving, but withdrawing myself from the family entirely. I hope that the next time I meet the Calhouns, there won't be tears on my end. Instead, judgment will befall them.

I've been overlooked by the Lawson family a hundred times over. On birthdays, they only ever get a cake for my sister, Jocelyn Lawson. When I'm sick, I lie alone in a hospital bed while they fuss around her. I tell myself to tough it out and be a good daughter, but no amount of my endurance ever earns me a drop of their favor. On my wedding day, I think I'll finally get my moment to shine, at least for once. But I'm wrong. My parents, my brother, and even my fiance—Felix Wright, the head of a mafia empire—abandon me to attend Jocelyn's graduation ceremony. They leave me standing alone at the altar, enduring the guests' whispers and pitying glances. But Felix just throws me a cold line. "It's just a wedding. We'll make it up another day." It's not the first time. At our engagement party, Jocelyn whimpers about a stomachache, and he rushes her to the hospital without a flicker of hesitation. I'm left to smile through gritted teeth, making excuses to a room full of guests. That's the moment it hits me. To them, I'll always be the spare. So, I walk away. I pack my bags and carry a secret with me—the child growing inside me. This time, I'm done waiting for their scraps of affection. I'm starting a new chapter in my life, for me and my baby.

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 Moon Spencer received the Medal of Honor, she made a public declaration of love on live television to her accompanying military medic, Xavier Quinn. “If it weren’t for Xavier, I’d have died in that storm at sea. He is the most important person in my life.” At the same time, her husband, Nathan Johnson, was lying on his deathbed at home. For years, he had taken care of Moon’s parents and raised their child alone. The strain destroyed his health, and he had little time left. He never expected that after twenty years of sacrifice, he would not even hear a word of thanks from her. What truly broke him was their daughter’s comment. “Dad, don’t you think Dr. Quinn and Mom are perfect together? You should leave sooner and make room for him.” Nathan collapsed in fury and regret. He died that night. When he opened his eyes again, he was back to the night before Moon left for her coastal deployment. This time, he refused to stay behind as the forgotten man who kept everything running. In this life, he would pursue his own dream.