The Daughter They Overlooked Novels & Stories

"Mom, you're seriously taking her side? Look at her—what part of that says 'respectable'? Millie and I were working. Judy just nags and throws the divorce card. She needs to be locked up and fixed." Dylan owning his mistakes? Funniest thing I've heard all year. And that "nothing happened with Millie" bit? Pure fiction. I glanced at Patricia. "Thanks—for everything. But this marriage? Way past saving." She held on like she wasn't ready to let go, eyes glossy with unshed tears. If I could've kept her without the Dylan baggage? That would've been the dream. Yana, of course, couldn't keep quiet. "Mom, I'm your daughter. Why are you clinging to some outsider?"

The Moretti Don who never bowed to anyone, the father who had always been so stern and unfeeling. "Let him in," I finally said. He raised me. I couldn't be completely heartless. Ten minutes later, a soaked Don Moretti was brought to my office. "Alessia..." his voice was broken. "My daughter..." "I am not your daughter." I kept my back to him, staring out the window. "Your daughter is dead. She died in that cell." "No, you're alive! I know I was wrong, but you are my blood..." "I am Alessia O'Connell." I turned, my eyes devoid of warmth. "And you are my enemy."

“And maybe Brook veered off the plan by pushing me down the stairs, but the goal was always to take my baby, so they moved their plans forward when she messed up.” Her gaze moves across the markings again, and no one interrupts even as what she’s saying starts to make sense. “No matter how much money you have, no one can plan things that fast and execute everything just as quickly,” she adds. “This was always in the works, and that’s why we never saw it coming.” “Fuck!” My fist slams against the table. Why the hell didn’t I see this before? Why didn’t I keep a closer eye on Brook? “So if your daughter is still alive, why are they keeping her?”

Come back! "I was wrong! I'll give everything back to you! I'll trade my life!" "Forum, can you hear me? I'll trade! Bring my sister back!" But the countdown had already begun. No matter how much they regretted it, it was too late. I felt a wave of lightness. A soft white glow wrapped around me. Maybe this was fine, too. Goodbye. In the next life, let's not meet again. Being Dad's daughter hurt too much.

"Angela, you're pregnant with your second child now. You have to be careful about everything." Gary quickly chimed in, his tone respectful. "Dad, Mom, don't worry. I'll take good care of Angela. She's the hero of our family now." Ever since Angela gave birth to a daughter for Gary despite his fertility issues, her status in the Cardone family had skyrocketed. Mrs. Cardone bragged to everyone that Angela had a naturally fertile body, and that the second child was definitely going to be a boy. Even the Miller family had landed several business projects because of it.

My older sister Mia was sweet and affectionate, while I was the “smart, independent” one who supposedly needed no one. For my high school graduation, my parents promised me a trip to Hawaii. I packed a month early and planned everything. But the night before we left, Mia decided to bring Luke, my childhood sweetheart. There wasn’t room for both of us, so Mom canceled my ticket. “Mia and Luke had a fight a few days ago. They need this trip to work things out.” My brother pushed my packed suitcase toward Mia. “Take hers. It has everything you need.” Luke had once been the only person who never used my independence as a reason to leave me behind. But after he met Mia, he began making excuses fo

I put my six-year-old daughter in my mother-in-law’s hands as I was busy with an overseas project. Every month, I would send her 20,000 dollars in allowance, not including holiday cash gifts. My mother-in-law would always talk about how well my daughter ate and slept during every video call. In the video, a feast was always laid before my daughter. So when her teacher claimed that she had fainted out of hunger during class, my first thought was that she must have called the wrong number. I rushed back home and headed straight to the hospital. The doctor said that my daughter was suffering from long-term malnutrition and her weight was far below the average. She also had severe post-trau

Before my mother died, she arranged a marriage for me. My bride-to-be was Rosalind Young, Kingsford's most formidable financial tycoon. Before I married her, I added three clauses to the prenuptial agreement. First, no feelings. Our marriage was purely business. Second, she could live her life however she pleased, while I'd live mine. Third, I would step aside immediately if her true love ever came along. Nevertheless, I would be getting double the alimony. Rosalind was quite pleased that I knew my place. Our marriage was a peaceful one until the day a teenage girl who bore a striking resemblance to her knocked on the door of our mansion and calmly said, "Sir, I'm Rosalind's daughter.

Before a gathering of New York's underworld Families, I slipped into the vintage Chanel gown my mother had left me. As I looked in the mirror, my seven-year-old daughter suddenly said, "Mommy, it doesn't matter what you wear. You're always the ugliest one." Just like that, all the joy the gown had brought me disappeared. It wasn't the first time my daughter had said something cruel. Once, the FBI took me in for questioning and kept me for three days. The moment I got home, I wrapped her in my arms and asked if she'd missed me. She only shrugged. "No, Mommy. You're too stupid. Smart people don't get caught." My husband, Vincent, said sternly, "You can't talk to her like that. We're a fam

This was my eighth life. In the first seven, I died horribly because nobody ever noticed me. Every time, I screamed for help at the top of my lungs. No one ever heard me. So this time, I decided to stop fighting and just wait to die. When I was six, people from a rival family kidnapped me and stuffed me into the trunk of a car. I got comfortable and fell asleep. When the kidnappers opened the trunk, they thought I'd suffocated. They panicked, dumped me by the side of the road, and ran. A cop found me on an old mattress at the dump. I waved him off. "Don't bother with an ambulance. Just call a hearse. And hurry." At 17, my birth parents found me. On the way to the Carlisle estate, I climbed