The Family Puzo Novel Novels & Stories

Five years ago, my brother's fiancée died because of me. Five years later, I'm burned to a crisp and laid out on his autopsy table.

In my parents' hearts, there was always a "perfect son" who died too soon. I was just his flawed substitute, while my younger brother was their new hope. They pretended to be poor for 20 years, secretly funneling all their resources to him. While I was in the final stages of stomach cancer, writhing in pain, they were spending millions of dollars to build him a state-of-the-art study room. When the doctor told me to notify my family about hospital bills, I felt helpless, thinking they were just ordinary, broke workers. When my mom finally showed up at the hospital, she grabbed my hand, not out of concern. "Neville is under so much stress with his college entrance exams. Can you not die right now? He can't take it." My dad stood by, wearing a stern expression. "David was way more sensible than you."

A car accident leaves me unconscious for a full three years. When I wake up, my family bursts into tears of joy. They care for me with the utmost attention. But from their behavior, I sense something is wrong. There are women's clothes in the house that don't fit me. My mother's shopping cart is filled with mysterious baby items. My father's friends send congratulatory messages about a new child, and my husband is always working overtime. When my husband once again leaves me alone under the pretext that there is something urgent at the company, I secretly follow him. Inside a warmly decorated house, my parents and husband sit around a table. A woman who looks almost exactly like me is holding a baby just a few months old, gently coaxing the child to call my husband "Daddy".

Tiarra Shane has never felt happiness since she was a child. Yes, they live a prosperous life, she gets what she wants, and she never has a problem with anything — she has nothing more to ask for, as others have stated. But, unbeknownst to everyone, she didn't need material things to be happy. She only needed her father and twin to accept and love her. She had the impression that his father and Reina Margaux, her twin, were not treated equally from the start. Their father treats them differently in terms of toys, clothes, and love. Because they held her responsible for their mother's death. She does everything they want, anything that pleases them, but she receives nothing but pain. How can she be happy if the only thing that will make her happy is the same thing that is causing her pain? How long will she have to pay for a sin she never committed? Her ultimate goal in life is to find the happiness she craves. But when will she be able to experience happiness in her lifetime?

When I was born, I was already a certified liar. That's a fact that everyone seems to agree with. The truth is, my mom, who's a scientist, has implanted advanced chips into me and my fraternal twin brother, Ryan Hartwell, when we were still babies. By right, as long as we lie or make mistakes, our mom will receive the devil signal from the chips. Then, she'll administer electrical shocks as a form of punishment. Ryan's chip often transmits the smiley signal. Even if he destroys our mom's research equipment and pins the blame on me, his chip still has the smiley branded on it. Meanwhile, when I reach home ten minutes later than usual because I had to help out a classmate, my chip transmits the scary devil signal. The next thing I know, I've already crippled to the floor from the intense pain caused by the electrical shock. At first, I'll still explain to Mom what happened. But she often exclaims, "Don't think you can pull off clever little tricks just like that gambling father of yours! The chip is ten thousands times smarter than you! The punishments will only be branded into your bones if the pain is searing enough! What I'm doing is saving your life!" After suffering from the pain countless times, I get brainwashed into thinking that I really am a liar and a troublemaker by nature. On the night of Christmas Eve, Mom comes to the attic to tell Ryan to join the family at the table for the Christmas dinner. That's when my asthma suddenly acts up, causing me to stumble and fall to the floor. "I… I can't breathe… Save me, Mom…" But Mom just coldly gazes at the devil signal that she has just received on her phone. Then, she dials the shock value to the maximum. "You don't have asthma at all! Ugh, you're kicking up another fuss just to attract attention! Seriously, you never change your ways!" After that, she takes Ryan's hand and leads him out of the attic. Soon, she slams the door heavily behind her. As I suffer from asphyxiation while on my deathbed, I can't help but think that Mom is right. After all, my chip has just transmitted the devil signal. Maybe the asthma attack really is just a figment of my imagination. I've always been a bad girl who loves lying to others, after all. When Mom finds out that this is the last time I've ever lied to her, she must be really happy, right?

If we psychologically damage an individual beyond repair, what will be the consequence of it? We all have a limit to the amount of mental and psychological stress we can take. Once the stress exceeds the limit, we’ll reach our breaking point. What happens after that is a mystery no one can solve, or is it? Lydia Johnson faces a similar situation. She is a complex young woman who faces a downfall stemming from the mental and physical abuse of her father and siblings, the negligence of her mother, and a chilling secret. From abused to loved, to abused again--that’s how life is for Lydia. Her family taught her only one lesson: emotions are for the weak and the weak don’t have a place in this world. With each kill, Lydia atones for the loss of her innocence by getting rid of another emotion and also rids the world of someone undeserving of her love and forgiveness. What lengths will she go to, for revenge, and prove her resilience? Will she ever be able to live her life like a normal person again? Or will she continue killing everyone until her own death?

"Do not read it"!! He yelled at them, she told me not to let you read whatever is written in the book. "Who believes someone that looks close to being a ghost" Dani retorts back at him. He was trying his best to talk them out of reading whatever was written in the book, but they were all adamant, they were going to read it anyways. "I'm not going to be a part of this" he said and left angrily.. A psycho thriller novel, mystery e.t.c

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…

When the flood came, my father, who was the captain of the rescue team, immediately rescued my cousin and cut my rescue rope. "Vivian can't swim, and there's not enough space on the helicopter. You won't die even if we rescue you a little later." I was rushed to the hospital while hanging onto a thread, but my mother, who was a doctor, gave the last bag of rare blood to my cousin, who was not even seriously injured. I begged with a weak voice, but my mother pried my fingers apart and said, "Your cousin is anemic and has always been in poor health. Must you fight for attention at such a time?" My parents had no idea that I stopped breathing when they abandoned me.

I suffer from a hereditary form of amnesia. By the time I found out, I had only seven days left. On the first day, I found my boyfriend had fallen for my younger twin sister. With a bitter smile, I suggested we break up. On the second day, my most treasured Lego set was smashed by my sister. Everyone laughed at me, saying I was disgraceful, unworthy of being a daughter of the Fleming family. On the fourth day, I forgot that my sister was allergic to mangoes. She ended up in the hospital, and my parents glared at me with resentment. Even my ex-boyfriend accused me of being heartless. On the seventh day, I woke up in a hospital bed to see my father walking in with a stern expression. He demanded that I quit my job and devote myself entirely to taking care of the family, as nothing more than a housekeeper. But I only looked at them in confusion and asked softly, “Who are you?” When they realized I had truly lost my memory, they lost their minds.