Sasunaru Family

My whole family could hear my thoughts. Twenty years after I was abducted, I finally reunited with my family. However, they used the thoughts they could hear to find out my bank account's passwords and PIN codes, all so that they could steal my savings. When they knew I was being stalked by a pervert, they offered me up on a silver platter just for the money he provided. I ended up getting locked up by the pervert and tormented to my death. When I opened my eyes once more, I found myself back to the day when it all began. I was going rabid deep down. 'Did Mom not use all of my money to support Mr. Warner next door?' 'Should I tell Mom and Dad that Alex is actually gambling instead of going to work?' 'I think Dad is attracted to Alex's girlfriend. What do I do?' This time, I want to see them turn against each other and reap the consequences of their own actions.

The day I found out I wasn't really an Adelson, Sharon—their real daughter—stormed in and stabbed me—over and over. Just like that, my shot at being a mom? Gone. Chuck Benetton, my fiancé, lost it. My parents swore they'd disown her. To "comfort" me, Chuck proposed on the spot. My parents handed me the severance letter—Sharon officially disowned—and told me to just focus on healing. Later, they said Sharon had run off and gotten trafficked in Nyamara, some hotspot for scams and lost souls. They said it served her right. And yeah... I believed them. Six years into the lie, I saw her—very much alive, baby bump and all, curled up against my husband like she owned him. "If I hadn't snapped back then, Yasmine never would've married you, " she said. "Thank God you and Mom and Dad backed me. Otherwise, that imposter would've landed me in jail. "She probably never guessed I've been right here, carrying your baby. Once I give birth, just fake an adoption. She can nanny our kid forever. "Thanks for everything, Chuck." She smiled like he was her hero. And he blushed. "Don't thank me. Marrying her was the only way to protect you. I'd do it all again." So yeah. The guy I thought loved me? He was always lying. My "parents"? They only cared about Sharon. If that's love, I want nothing to do with it.

I make my way to the orphanage after receiving my cancer diagnosis, hoping to bid farewell to the orphan, Lillian Lowe, whom I was sponsoring financially. I unexpectedly find my husband, Henry Graham, who is meant to be on a business trip, and my sister, Felicity Sullivan, who is meant to be on a vacation. Their fingers are intertwined, while they use their free hands to playfully pinch Lillian's cheeks. Lillian rushes into their embrace, weeping pitifully. "Can you get rid of that mean lady at home? I just want to go home with Mommy and Daddy." I finally understand, at that moment, that Henry, whom I thought had loved me the most, is having an affair with Felicity. They even have a child together. Mom and Dad urge me to divorce Henry and make way for his new family. Lillian, the girl I once held dearly in my heart, curses me to an early death. Henry, the one who betrayed me, insists on keeping our marriage. It's too late, though. I'm already dying, just as they wished. Lillian, who once cried so much at the orphanage, now lives in a mansion with a father, a mother, and a pair of doting grandparents. Their perfect little life seems like a never-ending fairy tale. It is only when my lifeless body is before them that everyone suddenly loses their minds.

She coveted everything about me. My possessions, my experiences, and even my men. So one night, my mother pushed me into an older man's bedroom. The next day, she asked with a smug smile, "Nina, how was your night with the older guy?" I rubbed my sore waist, recalling his broad shoulders, long legs, and trim waist from the night before. I smiled as I answered her. "That fiancé of mine is all yours now. Just remember—I’ll be your Aunt-in-law in the future.”

After failing the SAT, my parents had kicked me out and sent me overseas to work, forcing me to earn money to support my younger sister's college education. I had worked abroad for ten years, sending almost everything I earned back home. When the first song I wrote was released, it gained a bit of attention. Around that time, my childhood friend, Ian Swain, flew in from overseas just to find me. "Lexi, I didn't know your family sent you here to suffer like this. From now on, you won't have to face it alone." He had registered our marriage with me abroad and stayed by my side while we worked. I had been deeply moved—I shared every song I wrote with him and even let him manage my accounts. That was, until I overheard a conversation between Ian and my family. "Ian, isn't it a bit wrong for you to keep giving me the songs she wrote? What if Lexi finds out?" "Relax. Back then, when your family handed me her college admission letter, she didn't suspect a thing. Compared to that, this is nothing."

My mother-in-law, Mabel Grath, always liked me to arrange family trips. But she only transferred a small fraction of the cost. She called it a “deposit.” “I’m just following what you young people do with deposits. It’s not like I’m going to skip out on the rest.” After the trip, however, she never mentioned the rest of the payment again. I did not really mind. I quietly paid out of my own pocket for five-star hotels and luxury meals every time. Then one day, my husband’s sister, Marlene Grath, dropped a sarcastic comment in the family group chat. “Noelle Frost loves playing travel agent with my mom’s retirement money. “For all we know, she’s signing us up for cut-rate shopping tours and skimming the kickbacks.” Mabel replied with a smirking emoji. It seemed she was silently agreeing with her daughter. My heart sank. Over the years, I had taken them on trips all over the country and abroad. I had covered at least 100,000 dollars out of my own pocket. Yet, I still ended up looking like the one taking advantage of them. Mabel transferred four hundred dollars to me again and asked me to arrange a seven-day tour to Erope. So, I went ahead and booked them a one-day farm stay just outside the city.

On the day I was promoted to department head, I invited my parents on a trip during the Independence Day holiday. However, my mother invited my older sister, Anna Smith, and her entire family. She even posted about it on her social media. [My eldest daughter is so filial. The first thing she does after getting her salary is to invite me on a trip.] Anna replied: [It's only right to be filial to your parents.] Our relatives all praised Anna and even sent messages in the family chat group, telling me to learn from her. I silently looked at my mother's post on social media and canceled the supplementary card I gave her. This time, I wanted to see how they kept up that loving mother and dutiful child act.

While preparing for the SATs at the library, my brother is accidentally shot and injured, causing him to bleed profusely. I pass by this scene but turn a blind eye and quicken my pace to leave. This is because in my previous life, when I saw him, I rushed him to the hospital in a panic. He had intracranial hemorrhaging, and he urgently needed surgery. I quickly called my mom, the top neurosurgeon in the city, begging her to come to the hospital as soon as possible. However, she thought I was jealous that she had taken my adopted sister to the beach instead of spending time with me. She also believed I had fabricated the story about my brother's injury, and thus refused to return. By the time my dad and the rest of the family hurried to the hospital, it was too late for rescue efforts—my brother had passed away. The whole family blamed me for his death. They were convinced that I had deliberately misled my mom and delayed his critical treatment. When my mom returned from out of town, she lost her composure and pushed me down the stairs, watching coldly as I bled to death. After opening my eyes again, I had returned to the day my brother was shot at the library.

In the fifth year of my spiritual practice, my phone suddenly exploded with messages. [Aria, why aren't you replying? Are you really that petty?] Puzzled, I opened Messenger, and froze. My cousin, who never seemed to measure up to me and always went out of her way to oppose me, was getting married, and she expected me to attend. "Sorry, I've been busy lately. I won't be able to make it," I replied politely. However, my courteous response only fueled their ridicule. "Stop pretending! You haven't kept in touch with your family for years. Are you too embarrassed because your life is such a mess?" "She won't even come to her own cousin's wedding? How heartless!" "Let me guess, the real reason she can't come is she can't afford a wedding gift." One cutting remark after another appeared, until Betty Stewart stepped in, feigning concern. "Come on, don't be so harsh on Aria. We're family, after all." "If she's really struggling, I could ask my husband to help her get a cleaning job." Then she sent me the digital invitation, the gold lettering gleaming. When I saw the groom's name, my pupils constricted in shock. Joseph Clark? Wasn't he the short-lived husband who had spent three years sucking up to me just to extend his life?

I receive a mysterious parcel on my fifth wedding anniversary. Inside the box are photos of my husband, Luke Madden, being intimate with his assistant. The photos go back a long time—they seem to start from over five years ago. The latest one was taken half a month ago. He, his assistant, and their daughter are playing by the seaside. They smile brightly in the photo and look like a happy family of three. I suppress my devastation and take medication to terminate my pregnancy. Then, I pull out my phone to text my mother. "I'll do as you say and get a divorce, Mom. I'll be back next month to take over the company."