Trash Of Count Family Novels & Stories

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.

On my way home from picking wild berries in the woods, I see my mate, Ethan Volkov, feeding our pups roast chicken. His childhood sweetheart, Zoe Hathaway, is snuggling next to them. While chatting with Ethan about her experiences studying on the northern grasslands, she entertains the children. My five-year-old daughter is happily swinging her legs as she holds out a piece of roast chicken to Zoe, while My son carefully wipes the grease off Zoe's hands. Ethan never once looks away from Zoe. It is as if he only has eyes for her. Seeing my beloved mate and the pups I've tirelessly raised so attached to another she-wolf leaves me devastated. I draft a Bond Breaking Agreement, give up custody of the children, and leave. Pursue the herbal research career that I gave up for my family Yet later, the always calm and composed Ethan loses his composure. My daughter Katrina and my son James search everywhere for me, openly expressing their love and begging me to come home.

My mother was the best portrait artist in the police station. She had a strong sense of justice and brooked no evil. However, all I got was a sharp retort when I called her to save me. "You know it's your sister's coming-of-age celebration today, and you're cursing her? Kidnapped, are you? Fine, the kidnappers can kill you for all I care." She assumed it was a prank call. So, she refused to go to the police station and do her job. I wasn't saved in time and was tortured to death. When the DNA report came out, she came to the scene all wobbly. She drew a portrait of me with my bones as reference, her hand trembling all the way. "Jessica? It can't be her. This is a mistake!" She tried again and again. Yet, it didn't matter how many times she redid it as the portrait showed my face. My mother, who had hated me my whole life, teared up.

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.

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?

When I was fourteen, my brother—the Don—brought home an orphan girl to settle a debt of gratitude. From then on, my life within the Corleone family always took a backseat to hers. The girl framed me, claiming I was trying to poison her. My brother slapped me across the face and locked me in the attic. To make it up to her, he even gave her the position that was meant for me. This time, I didn't say a word. I just packed my bags and left. It took a few days for him to realize I hadn't returned to the family estate. Only then did he find out that I’d joined an international medical aid organization—and that I was never coming back to New York. After that, he completely broke down.

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…

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.

On Mom's death anniversary, drug dealers break into the cemetery and take me away. To get revenge on my brother, Zack Smith—a forensic pathologist—they torture me until there isn't even a single uninjured spot left on my body. I hold on for almost three days, barely surviving, until I finally get a chance to call him for help. However, Zack replied, "Why didn't they kill you for good? A jinx like you who killed your own mother shouldn't be allowed to live!" When the drug dealers notice my action, they shatter all of my bones. The next day, a janitor discovers several large bags of human remains in the trash can. Zack painstakingly reassembles my body back together with his own hands—yet he fails to recognize that it's me, his younger sister he always claims to hate. When the drug dealers are finally arrested, he descends into madness.

Six years after the Jennings family threw me out for being their fake daughter, I was surviving by selling my blood. I had just been handed a few bills and was about to call my doctor for more medication when a bodyguard kicked the back of my knee. My knees hit the floor, and I heard a scream. "You ungrateful brat! What are you doing here?! Are you still trying to kill Tina?!" Then, there was a slap on my face. Only then did I realize that the woman in front of me was my mother, Florence. She had come looking for blood for her precious daughter, Tina. My older brother, James, stood beside her and watched her break down. Then, he ordered the bodyguards to throw me out. He looked down at me, saw the cash in my hand, and sneered. "Looks like the past few years aren't enough to wipe that temper out of you. To think that you're willing to sell your blood just for some money to satisfy your vanity. Tina graduates in two weeks, and she'll go abroad to further her education. "Once she leaves, the family won't have to spoil her alone anymore, and you won't be able to bully her again. When that happens, I'll explain everything to Mom and Dad and bring you home. You'll still be the family's princess." "Home... Princess...?" I muttered under my breath. Then, I shook my head and laughed. My amyotrophic lateral sclerosis (ALS) had progressed too quickly. I would not last for another month. From the moment James accused me of being a fake heiress for Tina, I no longer had a home.