Without Remorse Tom Clancy

• My mom died saving me during a kidnapping. At least, that’s what everyone believed. My dad—once the man who spoiled me like his little princess—turned his grief into hatred. He adopted a girl who looked just like Mom and gave her all the love that used to be mine. For five years, I lived in that shadow, broken and unwanted. Until the day I was beaten and left for dead… and my mom came back. Alive. He used to call me his treasure. Now he calls me a curse. But the night my mom returned, everything shattered—his lies, his obsession, and the truth I was never meant to know.

My daughter was born with silver poisoning in her blood—passed down from me—which made it hard for her to sense her wolf, and even harder for her to shift. I worked tirelessly, taking on every job I could, to earn enough money to find a cure for her. One night during a late shift, I saw her. My daughter, dressed like a princess in an elegant, Silverlight-woven gown, sat at a table in a high-end restaurant. With her was my mate—supposedly bedridden and paralyzed—wearing a tailored haute couture suit. Across the table sat the famous she-wolf of our pack, the daughter of a respected elder. They had ordered a lavish dinner, the bill totaling over $500,000. After the meal, I overheard my mate ask our daughter, “You remember how to tell the story, right?” She nodded and replied, “Yes. I’ll tell Mom we were working as werewolf junk collectors all night, collecting waste paper crates, and in the end, we only earned enough to buy half a loaf of bread.” My mate smiled, pleased with the answer. The she-wolf then gifted my daughter an entire collection of newly released moonstone jewelry. Before they left, my mate tipped each waitress $5,000. I stood frozen, tears falling as the truth shattered my heart: my mate—and even my beloved daughter—had been lying to me. Even in dormancy, my wolf mourned. A colleague saw me crying and asked what was wrong. I forced a smile and said, “I’m just happy. I got $5,000 tonight. It would’ve been even better… if it hadn’t come from my mate, the one who’s supposed to be paralyzed and lying in bed.” No one knew what I had sacrificed to be his mate. I waited for an apology. But it never came. So I made my decision. I called my father—the one who had been waiting all these years for me to return as his heir. When I disappeared from their lives, just as they had always secretly wished... That’s when they finally began searching for me across the world.

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.

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."

After the college entrance exams, my parents left me at home and took their adopted daughter on a trip to the beach. A typhoon hit, and the three of them never came back. When the news reached me, I did not cry or throw a tantrum. I had their deaths registered right away and pulled out the life insurance I had bought in advance. I received one hundred million in compensation. My fiance scolded me for caring only about money. What he did not know was that I had been reborn. In my past life, after I learned about their deaths, the huge debts they had left behind fell on me. I gave up the chance to go to college and started working to pay everything back. I fought to protect our ancestral home from debt collectors. My fiance stayed with me and cheered me on when I came home late at night from delivery runs. But he never gave me a single cent to help. At thirty-five, I finally cleared every debt. On my birthday, I bought myself a ten-dollar cake to celebrate. Just as I was about to blow out the candle, the door opened. My parents and their adopted daughter, who should have died in the typhoon, walked in dressed in designer clothes. They smiled at me smugly. “Well done! We can finally believe that you aren’t greedy for money. You’ve passed the test. From today, you are qualified to be the daughter of the Jameson family.” “Jane, this brilliant idea was all thanks to you.” My adopted sister smiled. She leaned close and blew out my candle. The only light left in my twenty years of lifetime went out with it. My body gave in to exhaustion. My heart failed. I collapsed and died on the spot. When I opened my eyes again, they were about to head to the beach in the middle of the typhoon. I bought a massive accident insurance policy for them on the spot. This time, all I wanted was for them to disappear from this world forever.

On our fifth anniversary, Alpha Liam gave me nothing more than a simple pack mark of protection. That same night, he held a bonding ceremony with his first love, the she-wolf Seraphina. I refused to accept it. He accused me of being irrational. “My bonding with Seraphina is for the future of the pack, not because I still have feelings for her.” “You’re only human. Shouldn’t my pack’s mark be enough? This was your final test, Elena, and you’ve failed.” I walked away. And he turned around and proposed to Seraphina. Five years later, we met again at an exclusive hotel designated by the Alpha Council. His pack was on the verge of becoming a major power, and he had Seraphina, draped in a moonlight silk gown, on his arm. When he saw me, covered in sand and standing ankle-deep in the hotel’s ornamental fountain, he frowned. “Elena,” he scoffed. “You looked down on my protection back then. Look at you now. I bet you can’t find a single pack in this city willing to take in a human.” “And don’t think this pathetic display will make me take you back.” I ignored him. My cub’s treasured moonstone, a gift he’d found while combing the beach, had slipped into the fountain. The little guy was beside himself, and I had to find his precious amulet.

I used to be the beloved little princess of the Colobo family. Then, on my eighteenth birthday, my father brought home Sophia. She was the daughter of the old friend who had once saved his life. Out of guilt, he gave her a place in our home. Then he gave her my place too. My brother began protecting her and hating me. My childhood friend, Luca Rizzo, fell for her and left me behind. Even my father said Sophia deserved the Colobo name more than I did, though I was his biological daughter. On the day I graduated from college, they broke their promise to me for the ninety-ninth time because of her. I finally lost control. “Am I not your own daughter?” My father pulled Sophia behind him as if I were the danger, then slapped me across the face. “You jealous little thing. I should have given everything to her instead.” My brother looked at me like I was something dirty. “You don’t deserve a place in the Colobo family. Get out.” So I left. They thought I was only throwing another tantrum. They took Sophia to Switzerland to see the snow-covered mountains, certain that silence would teach me to behave. They thought I would calm down, come home, and beg for my place again. But this time, I called the research institute in Australia whose offer I had once turned down for them. “I accept,” I said. By the time the Colobo family realized I was truly gone, my phone number no longer existed. And so did Isabella Colobo.

After I am diagnosed with stomach cancer, I ask for some money to buy medicine. I don't want to be in excruciating pain when I die. My three elder brothers rush into the ICU. Andy Lewis—my eldest brother—slaps me hard across my face. He scolds me for ruining his beloved younger sister, Summer Lewis' coming-of-age party. My second brother, Sherman Lewis, calls me a liar. He accuses me of pretending to be sick to swindle money from them. Jimmy Lewis, who is my third brother, calls me useless. He tells me that I deserve to die. My parents, Kenneth Lewis and Autumn Farrow, don't believe that I'm sick. They pin me with looks of contempt and ridicule. "You still haven't stopped that lying habit of yours even though you're all grown up. You even learned how to blackmail us with your death. "If you want to die, do it sooner. It'll spare us from being disgusted when we're forced to look at you day in and day out." I end up dying on the first day of the New Year. Before I breathe my last breath, I send a message to the family group chat. My entire family goes crazy after reading it.

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".

Three years ago, my husband, my parents, and my adopted sister faked their deaths to test whether I had married into the DeLuca family for love or for power. They cut off my money, took my home, and left me and my son with nothing. Three years later, they came back. My husband stepped out of a black Rolls-Royce, looked down at me, and said, “Evelyn, you passed the test.” What he didn’t know was that my son was already dead. And I was dying too.