The Crazy Family Novels & Stories

Caked in mud, her eyes bloodshot, my mother grabbed me by the shoulders. "Elliot, the company's collapsed. I… I killed a competitor. It was an accident. There's no way out now. You're the only one who can come with me." I believed her. I swallowed my fear and followed her into the mountains, deeper and deeper until there was nothing left of the world I knew. To keep her alive, I searched for food, forcing down insects, drinking whatever murky water I could find. When a pack of wolves began circling our shelter, my first instinct was to step in front of her. "Mom, I'll lead them away. You go." I glanced back at her one last time…and made my choice. I would give up my life for hers. However, when I leapt from the cliff and my body shattered against the rocks below… I still saw her. She was inside a descending helicopter, calm and composed, lifting a glass of champagne. Celebrating. That was when it finally clicked. The desperate escape that had driven me to sacrifice myself… was nothing more than a carefully staged show. She had been acting the entire time. I…was the only one who had actually died.

When Joy Staton, my adoptive sister, fainted in the freezer on her birthday, William Staton, my brother, checked on the security footage in rage. The moment he saw that I was the one who took Joy into the freezer, he kicked me inside without hesitation. Before shutting the door, he stared at me in disgust. “You’ve been pushing your luck a lot these days, huh? If I’d been a second too late, Joy would’ve died!” I wanted to defend myself, but William refused to listen and slammed the door shut. I heard him talking to the bodyguards outside. “If she doesn’t apologize, don’t let her out!” But he did not know that Joy had set the freezer to –58 °F. I did not even have the strength to complain about the freezer being cold. William did not know that the sister he once loved dearly had stopped breathing in the freezer. He had killed his only blood relative left in the world.

The day I found out I was a match for my dad—stage four leukemia—I bailed. Mom tore the world apart looking for me, but yeah, she had to watch him go. After that, she drowned herself in research, built a name, even adopted this perfect little angel. We crossed paths again at some fancy leukemia conference she was hosting. I was on the demo table. She took one look and scoffed. "Charlotte Stein, not the time for your crap. Get up and go." The host blinked, stunned. "Dr. Cooper... you know this cadaver?" She actually laughed. "What, she paid you for this stunt?" The host turned ghost-white. "M-Miss Stein passed three days ago..."

My husband was the long-lost heir of the Riso mafia family. In my previous life, my husband Titus Holt's childhood sweetheart, Melissa Gunther, falsely accused me of stealing her family heirloom bracelet. It happened two days before I was set to leave the slums. Just as I was about to defend myself, Titus forcefully dealt with this matter and led Melissa and me out of the slums and back to the Riso family. I thought Titus did so because he trusted me, but then I heard Titus tell Melissa, "Noelle may not be honest, but she's Christian's mother. I can't let her bear the reputation of being a thief." Looking troubled, Christian also commented, "I don't want a thief as a mom. Dad, why did you bring her back? Wouldn't it be better to have Ms. Gunther as my mom?" I felt a chill run through me. It turned out Titus had not done all this out of trust; he just felt I was too embarrassing. Even my son had hated me his whole life. In the blink of an eye, I was reborn back to the day Titus suppressed public opinion. I silently booked a ticket to Swizor. On the day Titus took my son and Melissa back to Napple, I would leave and never see them again.

After my rebirth, I avoided my family and my boyfriend like the plague. When they tried to throw me a birthday party, I faked an urgent business trip to dodge it. When my parents pleaded with me to move back, I secretly bought my own house that very night. When my boyfriend popped the question, I spun on my heel and married someone else. In my previous life, my sister and I were swept away in a raging flood. By sheer luck, a jagged tree branch snagged my clothes, saving me from the depths, but my sister drowned in the merciless current. My parents, consumed by grief and rage, gripped my throat and screamed, "If it weren't for you, Andrea would still be alive!" My boyfriend acted like it was no big deal, offering half-hearted comfort before we tied the knot. But on our wedding anniversary, during a family cruise, they cornered me on the deck and shoved me overboard. "Time to taste drowning yourself!" they hissed. It turned out they had never gotten over Andrea's death. My boyfriend had never forgotten about her. When my eyes fluttered open again, I found myself back on that fateful day. This time, I vowed to live for myself, reclaiming the joy they'd stolen from me.

After eight years of marriage, my husband ignored my protests and brought his so-called cancer-stricken first love into our home. “You heartless woman! You don’t have an ounce of compassion! You’re not even worth a single strand of Luna’s hair!” Even my son chimed in, shouting that if I didn’t let Luna Miller in, he wouldn’t acknowledge me as his mother. That was it. I was done. I divorced him and accepted an invitation to return to the design world—back to the top where I belonged. But then they saw the forged cancer diagnosis. And suddenly, the tears came. “Baby, I was tricked! It was always you—I’ve only ever loved you!” “Mom, don’t leave me! I’m your only child!” I didn’t even look at them. Who let these crazy dogs in? They’re in my way—I’ve got an award to accept.

The moment I was born, I took her life. They called me a murderer. Marcus used to burn me with cigarette butts, and Dad would say it was my fate. “You’re a curse. If you had any conscience, you’d have gone to join Mom a long time ago to repay what you owe.” When Marcus was diagnosed with kidney failure, that same cold, distant father knelt in front of me. “Please… save him…” I put my hand on Dad’s shoulder. “Dad, I’ll do the surgery. But can you promise me one thing?” Dad performed the surgery himself. It was a success. He saved the son he loved most and took the life of the daughter he hated. But after I died, Dad turned himself in to the police, and Marcus lost his mind.

My father's adopted daughter was only locked in the cramped storage closet for around fifteen minutes, yet he punished me by tying me up and throwing me inside. He even sealed off the ventilation with towels. "As Wendy's older sister, if you can't take care of her, then you should also experience how scared she was," he declared coldly. He knew I was claustrophobic, but my desperate pleas for mercy, my terror, were met with nothing but heartless reprimands. "Let this be a lesson on how to be a good sister." As the last sliver of light disappeared, swallowed by the oppressive darkness, I struggled helplessly. A week passed before my father finally remembered my existence and decided it was time to end my punishment. "Let's hope this week served as a good lesson for you, Jennifer. If this happens again, you will no longer be allowed in this house." He would never know that I had already taken my last breath in that suffocating room. My body had begun to rot in the darkness.

I stopped fighting. The moment I came back, I stepped out of the family spotlight on purpose— no arguments, no expectations, no awkward “let’s bond” moments. And somehow… that’s when my parents lost their minds. They made my little sister the heir? I congratulated them and filed my transfer to the Vegas branch the same afternoon. They threw her a massive coming-of-age gala? I smiled, booked a flight, and left before the invitations were printed. They bought her a limited-edition luxury car? I claimed my “old wrist injury” made driving impossible and insisted she take it. I thought they’d be relieved. I thought they’d finally get their perfect family without me messing up the picture. But instead—my cold, distant parents started calling nonstop. Showing up at my door. Pleading with me to come home. Asking what they did wrong. Why now? Why only when I stopped trying? Because in my last life, I spent decades clawing for their love— only to die bitter, resented, and humiliated. Even my grown son told me I was embarrassing. This time, I came back different. I refused to fight for a place in their world again. I refused to compete with my sister. I refused to beg. But the moment I stepped away… the entire family empire began to crack. And now they’re terrified. Not because I left— but because they finally realized what they lost.

To save my family, I was dying of silver poisoning, my fiancé Marcus, the Alpha who had promised to never abandon me, now wanted to harvest my healthy kidney for my parents' adopted daughter, Celeste. Nobody cares if I live or die So I refused the conservative treatment plan. I injected myself with the witch's life potion. The price? In 72 hours, I would die from complete organ failure. In those three days, I gave my private healing center—the one I'd built with my own hands—to Celeste. Mom and Dad beamed with joy. "Good girl, you've finally grown up. You're taking care of your sister now." Marcus wanted to postpone our wedding to care for Celeste. I accepted it calmly. He praised me for finally being understanding. I even gave up my position as the pack's chief healer to Celeste. My parents and Marcus were so excited they planned to throw her a grand celebration ball. They invited every important person with status in the pack to honor her new role. I was just curious about one thing. After I died, would they shed a single tear for me?