Vegeta Family Crest

"Mega tidak mau, Bi, Mega tidak mau menikah kontrak apa lagi sampai memiliki anak, dan nantinya Mega harus melepaskan anak itu begitu saja?" Selalu dianggap benalu oleh keluarganya, dan dengan penuh keterpaksaan Mega yang harus tinggal dengan yang bukan orang tuanya membuat Mega hidup dalam tekanan setiap harinya. Hingga akhirnya dengan berat hati Mega pun setuju menjadi ibu pengganti bagi pasangan kaya raya, sampai hidupnya berubah dalam satu malam. Mega hanya membutuhkan uang untuk menyelamatkan keluarganya, tidak pernah terpikir bahwa rahimnya akan membawa janin pewaris keluarga kaya raya. Namun di balik kontrak perjanjian yang tebal dan aturan yang ketat, Mega justru terjebak dalam badai perasaan yang tak pernah ia rencanakan. Awan, sang suami dingin perlahan mulai menunjukkan perhatian yang tak semestinya. Sementara istrinya, Sania, lama kelamaan merasa tak suka melihat suaminya dan ibu pengganti itu berada terlalu dekat. Di dalam rumah megah yang terasa seperti istana, Mega harus menjalani beribu kepahitan, di tengah cinta yang tak boleh dimiliki, dan kebencian yang makin mengakar. Akankah Mega sanggup menuntakan tugasnya?

My whole family could hear my thoughts. Twenty years after I was abducted, I finally reunited with my family. However, they used the thoughts they could hear to find out my bank account's passwords and PIN codes, all so that they could steal my savings. When they knew I was being stalked by a pervert, they offered me up on a silver platter just for the money he provided. I ended up getting locked up by the pervert and tormented to my death. When I opened my eyes once more, I found myself back to the day when it all began. I was going rabid deep down. 'Did Mom not use all of my money to support Mr. Warner next door?' 'Should I tell Mom and Dad that Alex is actually gambling instead of going to work?' 'I think Dad is attracted to Alex's girlfriend. What do I do?' This time, I want to see them turn against each other and reap the consequences of their own actions.

I'm undressed and bound to a testing table when my family comes to pick me up. A thick, sharp needle pierces into my neck. A drug is administered into my blood, and the pain almost makes me lose consciousness. Behind me, I can feel a man's cold hands stroking my skin amorously. Before me, several people are staring at me. They point at me and treat me like an educational instrument. I tremble in fear and curl up on the testing table in pain. Three years ago, my brother sent me to Mykorra's war zone to stand up for Yvette Sanders. Those were the three most insulting and torturous years of my life. They burned away my hope for kinship but not my desire for survival. As the hands roam lower on my body, I bite my lip so hard that I almost draw blood. As the hands start to go overboard, someone knocks on the door. "Wendy Sanders, your brother is here for you."

I died on the day I won the Global Medical Doctorate Award. Fresh from celebrating the sixteenth birthday of my younger sister, my parents, brother, and my fiancé finally returned home, but it was three hours after my death. My family photos were beaming with happiness on social media, while I laid in the suffocating basement drenched in blood. Before I died, I had struggled to slide my tongue across my phone screen in a desperate attempt to call for help. My parents and brother had blocked my number. Only my fiancé answered my call. The moment his voice came through, he snapped, "Winona, Winnie's sixteenth birthday is important. Stop trying to hijack attention with your pathetic excuses. Enough with the theatrics!" It murdered my last spark of survival. In that electronic death rattle, my heart flatlined. The 100th time they chose her. The 100th time they abandoned me for her. But it was also the last time. They thought I had ran way to get their attention again, and that if they taught me a harsh lesson, I would come crawling back pathetically. But not this time. Because I didn't leave home. I had been lying in the basement of my house.

My husband was praised by my friends as the perfect husband in the world. Everyone said he loved me to death and practically put me on a pedestal. Then came my prenatal checkup. My older cousin, Catherina Bow, called him with a farewell message before attempting suicide. Without hesitation, he abandoned me and rushed off in panic. I was six months pregnant at that time. My mother expected me to be the bigger person and “lend” my husband to Catherina, who was depressed. My brother snapped at me, "The only reason you’re still in this house is because Catherina spoke up for you. Whatever she wants, you should give it to her!" I found it absurd. I was supposed to be their family. She was nothing but a cuckoo in my nest. When I finally decided to walk away from all of them, they regretted their actions.

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!"

After five years of marriage, the doctor told me I was pregnant. It was something I had waited for so long. Yet, along with that good news came a nightmare. My medical tests showed that I had cancer, and it had already spread. The doctor gave me less than a month to live. I froze, gripping the report so tightly my knuckles turned white. Tears streamed down my face as I thought about how my unborn child would never get to feel a mother's embrace. My grief was interrupted by the ping of an incoming text message. It was from Mom. [Since you're so selfish and refuse to donate a kidney to save Nattie's life, you should divorce Davon. Let him marry Nattie instead. At least that way, you can fulfill her dying wish.] My tears fell harder. It was not that I refused to donate a kidney to Natalie Rivera, my sister, who was in the final stages of kidney disease. In truth, I only had one kidney left. Five years ago, I had already given one to Dad. Now, with my life counting down to its final days, I decided that I would donate my remaining kidney to Natalie. I would also let my husband, Davon Parker, go with her. Before I went into surgery, my parents praised me for finally being thoughtful, saying I had finally learned to care about my sister. They said that once the surgery was over, the whole family would go on vacation together. Davon even said he was proud that I was no longer selfish and promised he would make it up to me in the future. None of them knew I did not have a future. After the surgery, what would be pushed out of the operating room would be a cold, lifeless body.

I'm Alpha Bruce Smith's most docile and understanding daughter. In fact, I'm the type who obeys literally anyone's orders. When my parents pick me up at the Rogues' den and take me back to the pack, my adopted younger sister, Andrea Smith, begins making fun of me. "I thought the Rogues killed you for sure! I never thought you'd be able to return to the pack, safe and sound! You really are lucky! Why can't you just die already?" With hollow eyes, I just nod quietly. Then, I extend a claw and move to stab myself in the neck without hesitation. My parents are terrified out of their wits. They quickly stop me from hurting myself. But my older brother, Tobias Smith, remains impassive about my condition. "You really love attention that much, huh? What makes you think you can still remain my sister, anyway? You might as well drink some wolfsbane and die!" That night, I grab a bottle of poison and down it immediately. Tobias discovers me afterward. He whisks me to the hospital anxiously. When the doctor tells him that I'd die if he were two minutes later in discovering me, Tobias' complexion turns pale. Some time after that, when Andrea snatches my necklace from me, she loses her balance and falls down the stairs. Her fiance points at me while exclaiming, "It's just a necklace! If anything were to happen to Andrea, you'd better pay the price with your life!" Pay the price with my life, huh? I don't hesitate to draw the silver sword out of its hilt on the wall. Then, I slash my throat with it. My parents happen to witness it. Shell-shocked, they scream at the top of their lungs. "Call an ambulance! Hurry!" Tobias tries to stem the blood flow with trembling hands. He's completely stunned by the ordeal. What everyone doesn't know is that they've been calling me a lowlife during my five-year stay in the Rogues' den. Even if I could live 100 times over, those lives are nothing compared to Andrea. Even if I gave my life, it would never be enough—because to them, my life was never worth anything in the first place.

For as long as I can remember, my family and I have been living in an underground basement that's completely shut off from the outside world. My parents have told me that the zombie apocalypse is terrorizing the outside world. The air is completely plagued with the zombie virus, and we'll die if we ever leave the basement. In order to save the supplies—which are already dwindling, to begin with—I've starved myself to the point I'm all skin and bones despite being only 18 years old. When I realize that there's only one last can of food left, I leave behind a suicide note. "Mom, Dad, now there's one less mouth to feed. You'll last a few more days." After that, I slit my wrist right away. Once I'm dead, my soul phases through the thick and heavy metal door. Bright sunlight illuminates the entire world. It's a beautiful, peaceful world filled with greenery. I can even hear birds chirping in the distance. Mom, Dad, and a bunch of people are throwing a barbecue party on the lawn. The mouth-watering smell of food being grilled permeates the air. So, it turns out that the zombie apocalypse is just a lie that's designated to trap me inside the fortress. I'm the only one who has died in this sunny, peaceful world.

Cailen has only one wish. To have a family he could belong to and a home to call his. ***** At thirteen, Cailen had been to different foster homes, each of them returning him for one reason or another. His heart had already taken so much rejection that hopelessness had set in, giving up on himself and shutting down, that even when a family does welcome him and love him, he still has his doubts. When Cailen returns from University to visit his family, he finds himself struggling to keep a secret that he knows will make him lose the only home and family that he has. Will Cailen lose himself? Or will he lose his family?