Weasley Family Tree Novels & Stories

Lenora Bennet is my first love. After we start dating, she's been nothing but caring toward me. But on the day of our wedding, my older brother, Gideon Sloane, calls her on the phone and tells her that he's sick and hospitalized. Lenora doesn't hesitate to ditch me at the altar. My mom wants me to be the bigger man and let Lenora take care of the ill Gideon. Meanwhile, my older sister, Hillary Sloane, chastises me for being selfish. She thinks I never let Gideon have his way. I don't understand at all. Gideon is the one who's stolen my life from me, but why is it that my family wants me to be gracious toward him? But after that, I've graciously decided that I don't want them in my life anymore. Surprisingly enough, they keep begging for my forgiveness.

On my 18th birthday, my triplet brothers adopted a fifteen-year-old orphan girl. To make their newly adopted sister happy, Matthew gave her my coming-of-age gift, Daniel sent away the dog that had grown up with me because she was allergic, and William coldly told me to get out of the house and stop making their little sister upset. I didn't say another word. I just packed my bags and left. They all thought I was just throwing a tantrum and would be back in a few days. My three brothers canceled their busy work schedules to take the orphan girl abroad to relax her nerves. They went to see the Northern Lights in Alaska – the place I had always dreamed of visiting. Many days later, when they returned from their vacation, they suddenly learned that I had volunteered for a twenty-year medical research mission in a remote frontier. I would never be coming home again. That night, they fell apart.

The notice of my mother's layoff sat on the kitchen table. Rent was due in three days. My younger brother's tutoring fees were already two weeks late. And my little sister, Stephanie, clutched her acceptance letter to the local public arts high school like she'd done something wrong. None of this would be happening if it weren't for me. My illness had taken everything our family had saved. I stayed in my room, leaning against the door, wanting to tell them I'd drop out of treatment—but I couldn't bring myself to open it. "Why did he have to fall sick?" My mother was crying, her voice low and tight, like the words were being forced out of her. "If it were just you both, Stephanie and Jamie, we'd be fine by now." "Mom, please don't say that." My brother and sister held her, barely holding back their own tears. "He's a burden… but he's still my son." Her voice cracked. "I just… I can't do this anymore…" I stepped back and sank into my chair. It wasn't an accusation. It was a verdict.

The day my biological family comes to take me home, a car accident occurs. My parents and the fake son who had been living my life all die, but my sister, Kayla Bennett, survives. She despises me completely after that and blames the company's bankruptcy on me too. Desperate to make amends, I work over ten jobs a day, giving her every cent I earn so she can buy back the villa that has all our family memories. The day I finally save enough money, I discover my supposedly dead parents inside that same villa, celebrating Dylan Bennett's birthday. My usually cold sister is laughing warmly with them. As they bring out the cake, Mom mentions me. "Today's Nathan's birthday too. We've been punishing him for eight years now. Maybe we should bring him home?" Kayla cuts her off immediately. "We agreed on ten years to make sure he never suggests sending Dylan away again. Not one year less!" I clutch my medical report and laugh through my tears. But Kayla, I'm dying.

My father raised me on one principle: fair exchange. If I wanted anything, I had to earn it myself. Fifty cents for washing the dishes. A dollar for mopping the floor. Five dollars for a perfect score on a test. To buy the pair of white sneakers I had been dreaming of, I spent three months collecting recyclables. In that house, I lived like a pieceworker, paid by the task. It was not until my senior year of high school that everything began to crack. I collapsed during morning study, my body worn down by years of malnutrition. The doctor said I needed better nutrition. My father stood by my hospital bed and started doing the math. "Three hundred for the hospital stay. Two hundred for medication. Chester, this all goes on your tab for the future." I turned my head and saw a boy in a school uniform in the next bed. His father was feeding him spoonfuls of chicken soup, his eyes red with worry. In that moment, the world I had known for 18 years fell apart. It turned out not every child had to earn their parents' love. After I was discharged, I went home and saw the pair of designer sneakers on my brother's feet; it was worth thousands. That was when I finally woke up. I tore up the family photo and, without hesitation, applied to the college farthest from home. Ten years later, my father called me in tears. My brother had taken all his retirement savings, sold the house, and run off with his girlfriend. He was left with nothing. No home. No one. I smiled and tossed him a rag. "Want a place to stay? Sure. It's 50 cents per window. Earn your own rent."

Our family road trip ended in a cliffside plunge. The Moon Goddess told us that to survive, we must enter the werewolf world and conquer the cruelest Alpha in existence. Only by obtaining the Alpha’s "Token of the Blood Oath" could our family be reborn. My cousin Chloe, brimming with confidence, chose the identity of the "Savior." She attempted to replicate the "White Moonlight"—the lost love—from the Alpha's memories. Meanwhile, the "Spectators" from this world were blowing up the chat stream: "This family is interesting. Much smarter than the last batch." "As long as one of them gets the Token, they all resurrect. I’m betting on the blonde hottie." "For sure. The way that Alpha looks at her? His favorability is already maxed out." Just when we thought victory was in the bag, the next day brought devastating news. The first batch of family members who entered the instance were wiped out. And Cousin Chloe died the most gruesome death of them all. The tone of the chat instantly shifted to mockery and ridicule: "LMAO. Did they really think this was some fluffy romance novel? That’s the Rogue King who crawled out of a pile of corpses." "Forget his 'White Moonlight.' He wouldn't hesitate to kill his own Fated Mate."

When I was ten, Jonathan Cooper saved me and told me he would protect me for life. When I was 15, I met William Reed. He also told me he would protect me forever. Yet, the year I turned 23, the two men who swore to always keep me safe threw me into the ocean for the sake of their true love.

I used to be treated like a princess in Lumenclaw Pack. But the first day after my eighteenth birthday, my Alpha dad brought home a charity case—Callie from the welfare center. Everything flipped. Ryell, my own brother, ditched me for her. Jovan, my future mate? Shielded her. Even Dad called her sweet, kind—"a thousand times better than you." Graduation Day. Strike 101. They picked her. Again. "Aren't I your real family?" Dad hesitated—but only to hide Callie behind him like some precious thing. Her fake tears. His real slap. "Such a petty wolf. I wish I'd never had you." Ryell sneered, "Having a sister like you makes me sick. Get out!" I didn't scream. Didn't cry. Just packed and walked. They thought I'd break like always—cry, forgive, crawl back. But not this time. I called my mom. Took her offer. Moved to her distant pack. If they wanted me gone, wish granted. So why the hell did they come begging when they realized I meant it?

Heating starts on the 15th, so I give my mom the money to pay the heating bill two days in advance and ask her to pay it for me. But a week passes, and it still feels like an icehouse in my apartment. I am on the phone complaining to my younger brother's wife, Selena Lyons, who lives upstairs. "You are right not to pay the heating fee. I paid, and it made no difference. We're freezing to death here." From the other end of the call, I faintly hear my nephew shouting, "Mom, it's so hot! I want a popsicle!"

When I was having a heart attack, my parents, my brother, and my fiancé were all at our family casino—celebrating Eva, our adopted daughter, at her twenty-first birthday, her official debut into the mafia world. The doctor refused to operate without a legal guardian’s signature. So I called them. My father’s assistant answered. “Sorry, Miss. The Don is in the middle of a toast.” My brother and mother let it ring until it went silent. Finally, my fiancé, Adam, picked up. Music roared behind him. I could hear laughter, glasses clinking. “Cecilia,” he said, impatient. “If you can’t even show up for Eva’s party, stop causing trouble. Today is Eva’s debut. Every Don from three territories is here. Whatever drama you’re playing can wait.” I lost count of how many times they chose her over me. So after this call, I stopped calling. I signed my own name. My family thought I’d finally learned to be obedient. But they should’ve known that in our world, silence only means one thing—I was preparing to disappear for good.