True Bond Novels & Stories

After four failed matching attempts, I finally got a matching heart. Seth Jones, my brother, rushed back to the country, and I thought that he was going to operate on me. Suddenly, Jody Jones, the real heiress, was diagnosed with a heart condition. Seth came to me with an agreement and kept trying to convince me to sign it. “Elena, give Jody the heart, please! She’s frail and can’t wait. You can still last a little longer. You can get other donors in the future.” Trembling in rage, I chased him out. But on the second day, someone took my heart. I hung onto one last shred of hope and went to Julius, my fiance. I heard him talking to Seth in the corridor. “We did betray Elena. We took revenge for Jody during the first four matches and lied to Elena that those were failed matches. But this time, Jody’s really sick. The heart has to go to her. Once Jody has the heart transplant and recovers, we’ll make it up to Elena.” At that moment, I finally realized that they were the reason I had almost come close to death a few times before. I did not go in to demand answers. Instead, I cradled my chest and wiped my tears away. “System, activate the return procedure.”

As the long-lost daughter of a wealthy family, I returned to my biological parents, only to watch their company collapse. Overwhelmed by massive debts, my dad jumped to his death. My brother was left crippled by vengeful creditors. My mother, unraveled, would one moment tear at my hair, cursing my existence, and the next, cling to me, sobbing and vowing to cherish me. To save them, I shredded my college acceptance letter and took every job I could find. When my brother's condition worsened, I auctioned off my virginity to fund his surgery. But when I arrived at the hospital with the money, I overheard their conversation. "Kathy works day and night to earn money. I don't think she is after our fortune," said my mom. "She dropped out of college and ruined her future for us. Maybe we should stop this." My brother, supposedly half-paralyzed, stood by the window in a crisp suit. He shrugged. "She chose to skip college and work like that. What's it got to do with us?" My "dead" father broke his silence. "We need to be careful. People like her are like leeches. Once they latch on, you can't shake them off. Let's keep watching." I listened quietly, tossing the pendant they had given me into the trash. I had repaid the debt of my birth, and now, we were done.

My parents' enemy kidnaps me and livestreams chopping off my fingers just to force them to show up. For a time, the entire Internet searches for my parents. But what they don't know is that the captain who appeared in the livestream is my biological father. At that moment, he's on a beach in Hashford, setting off magnificent fireworks for his adopted daughter. And on their barbecue table, the livestream of my fingers being severed is playing. Later on, when I survive long enough to be rescued, I reach out my mangled hand to touch my parents. They recoil in disgust and leave without looking back, taking the adopted daughter out for Wersole food. But they don't know that the thing hidden within my mangled palm will make them regret their actions beyond measure.

I was born with a one-track mind—I take everything seriously and do exactly as I'm told. When my adoptive father cursed a rival company, calling them bloodsucking vampires, I immediately went out, bought ten pounds of garlic and a crucifix, and stormed into their CEO's office to perform an exorcism. When my adoptive mother said she was willing to sell a kidney for the sake of the company, I contacted an underground black-market clinic on the spot and asked when they could schedule her surgery. Over time, no one dared joke casually around me anymore. Everyone in the family chose their words with extreme care, terrified I might take them at face value. That is, until the day of the family reunion banquet—when the fake heiress, who refused to leave no matter what, showed up as well. She hooked her arm through my brother's and flashed me a provocative smile. "Arista, Benji dotes on me the most," she said sweetly. "He said if anyone dares to make me unhappy, he'll chop them into pieces and dump them in the river to feed the fish." The banquet hall erupted in laughter. I was the only one whose face went deathly pale. The next second, I kicked my brother, Benji Collins, straight onto the dining table. I grabbed the silver steak knife and pressed it against his throat. "Everyone, stay calm," I announced loudly. "I've already called the police! For publicly advocating premeditated murder, desecration of a corpse, and antisocial personality tendencies… The minimum sentence is the death penalty!"

Three years after my family committed me to a psychiatric hospital, I finally managed to escape. But my freedom didn't mean much, not when the cancer had already metastasized. Knowing my days were numbered, I just wanted one decent meal. I used the pocket change I'd scraped together from collecting recycling to buy an ice cream cone—something I had never been allowed to try before. I stood on the street, happily enjoying it, when a metal chain suddenly whipped across my face. "Chantal is seriously ill, and you have the nerve to stand here enjoying yourself? I knew you always wanted her dead." It was my mother, whom I hadn't seen in years. She screamed hysterically, swinging the heavy metal strap of her designer purse and leaving bloody welts across my cheeks. Losing her mind completely, she grabbed me by the hair and slammed my head against the wall. My brother arrived just in time to watch coldly. With a sneer, he ordered his bodyguards to pin me down to the pavement. "Looks like we've been letting you live way too comfortably," he mocked. "Splurging on ice cream while Chantal suffers? Must be nice! But your timing is perfect. She needs a marrow transplant. "You ruined her life, and this is your only shot at redemption. If you're a match, I'll allow you back into this family. Isn't that what you used to beg us for?" Tears silently slipped down my face. It was all too late; the cancer cells were already everywhere in my body. I was going to die very soon.

After the fake heiress, Melina Langston, falls into the water, her already fragile health becomes even worse. My brother, Elio Langston, blames everything on me. In the dead of winter, he forces me to stand in the freezing swimming pool all night. I end up with pneumonia from the cold. When I return from the hospital, I see him holding Melina in his arms and looking at me with unconcealed disgust. "If you ever bully Melina again, don't ever come back!" I look at Elio without saying a word and return to my room. Then, I board a plane that will never fly back.

A highly contagious virus broke out in the city. My entire family was infected—only I was spared. To eliminate the virus as quickly as possible, I, a specialist in the field, secretly volunteered for a classified human experiment without telling anyone. However, on the day the miracle cure was finally developed, I realized I could no longer speak.

On my birthday, I proposed a family trip to the northern grasslands. My younger sister, Clara Harrington, who was studying in the southern territory, decided to drive through the forest to meet up with us. But unexpectedly, she was attacked by Rogue wolves in the woods, and her body was never found. My parents, Oscar Harrington and Margaret Vale, placed all the blame on me for her death and cast me out of the family. Overwhelmed with guilt and sorrow, I left the pack to atone for my sins. I took on odd jobs to earn money to send home, all while searching for any trace of Clara. Three years later, I found myself in the southern territory and began working as a delivery runner for a forest cafe. One day, while delivering an order to Werewolf Academy, I saw my parents and Clara standing at the school gate. She said, "Dad, Mom, Adeline has been wandering for three years. Shouldn't we let her come home?" But my mother replied calmly, "She is too selfish. It's only right that she suffers a little. We can bring her back once she realizes her mistakes." My father nodded in agreement. "Let her wander for another year. We'll bring her home next year." I clutched my stomach, my face pale as I forced out a bitter laugh. Three years of exhaustion had left me gravely ill. My wolf was gone, and I only had three days left to live. I could't wait until next year for my father to come and take me home.

I had become the Luna of the pack. Mom called it a blessing. She said I'd married up, and that I should bring my sister, Ruby, into the same circles. Ruby was already scheming for a noble match. That was the whole point of her come-of-age celebration. I hated all the schemes. And the lilies on the table made it hard to breathe. My throat began to swell. My chest tightened. I realized I was allergic But I couldn't rest. "Bring Ruby around. Say hello to the wealthy families. You're the Luna. They'll treat you with respect," Mom said. I stayed. The wine she handed me made things worse. And my pampered sister, out of jealousy, forced an handful of allergy medicine down my throat. It was the kind forbidden for pregnant women. And I was six months carrying a wolf pup. In tearing, gut-wrenching pain, my pup left me. Mom cried again and again, begging for forgiveness. I pulled my hand away. Whatever love I had for her was gone.

The doctor told me I had 72 hours left, unless I got access to the newest experimental treatment. However, there was only one slot available, and my husband Bowen Liddell gave it to my sister Yvonne Lawson instead. "Her kidney failure is more critical," he said. I nodded and swallowed the white pills that would only speed up my death. In the time I had left, I got a lot done. The lawyer's hand trembled as he passed me the documents. "Are you sure you want to transfer the two billion dollars in shares?" I replied, "Yes. Give them to Yvonne." My daughter, Candice Liddell, was giggling in Yvonne's arms. "Mommy Yvonne bought me a new dress!" I said, "It looks beautiful. Make sure you always listen to Mommy Yvonne, okay?" The art gallery I built from the ground up now had Yvonne's name on the sign. "You're too kind, Kathy," she said, crying. I told her, "You'll run it even better than I ever did." I even signed all my parents' trust fund away. That was when Bowen finally gave me his first genuine smile in years. "Kathleen, you've changed. You're not so aggressive anymore... You're beautiful like this." Indeed. This dying version of me finally became the 'perfect Kathleen Sullivan' in their eyes—obedient, generous, and no longer argumentative. The 72-hour countdown had already begun, and I couldn't help but wonder what they would remember when my heart stopped for good. The good wife who 'finally learned to let go', or the woman who completed her revenge by dying?