Yellow House

After the real son, Asher Vale, was brought back, everything in our house became tied to drawing lots. The chef of the day, who would have to cook a particular person's preferred dishes, had to be decided by drawing lots. Even our parents' kisses and hugs were chosen the same way. I always drew the short stick. The long stick, by default, belonged to Asher. He never had to do anything to receive our parents' love. Whenever I felt it was unfair and wanted to cry, Mom would scold me sharply, "I bought the lot-drawing box because I was afraid you'd feel hurt. I wanted to be fair to both of you. If you want something, decide it yourselves. Your father and I won't interfere. If you can't draw the long stick, you can only blame your bad luck." So I began practicing every day, shaking the box diligently, over and over, in hopes that one day, it would help me earn my parents' love. Unfortunately, for ten years, I never once drew the long stick. Until my birthday. Asher wanted to go to the amusement park, and Mom once again told us to decide by drawing lots. I secretly glued the two short sticks together and handed them to Mom, hoping to keep her with me. She slapped me hard across the face, screaming that I was cheating and disobedient. Then she stormed out of the house with Asher. When I fell to the ground, the short stick stabbed deep into my neck. 'I'm sorry, Mom. Next time, I'll work harder. Next time, I'll definitely draw the long stick.'

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."

In the middle of the night, my husband started talking in his sleep. "My little treasure, Daddy's taking you and Mommy to the new house tomorrow." But we were using protection. Where the hell did a kid come from? So I opened his phone. I saw the money transfers to another woman—spent on all kinds of luxury shit and a house. The photo album had pictures of her in a skimpy stripper outfit, a little bump in her belly. The last one was an ultrasound. Four months along, it looked like. I didn't make a sound. Just saved the evidence. They were about to learn the price of betraying a mafia princess.

I woke in the middle of the night to my Don husband murmuring in his sleep. “Juno, be good. Tomorrow I’ll buy you and Mamma a new house.” My eyes flew open. Juno? That was the name I’d always planned for a purebred Ceylon cat I dreamed of owning, but I’d never gotten one because of my pet fur allergy. And a new house? Could this just be a coincidence? I shook him lightly. “What did you just say?” He frowned and mumbled coarsely, “Had a nightmare. Dreamt of a shootout.” I didn’t press further. In the darkness, I reached for his phone and silently opened his messages.

"Sign it." Rachel picked it up and glanced at it. It was a divorce paper. It stated that she had to vacate the house without any belongings and return everything she had taken from the Brown family. This included shares, businesses, properties gifted by the Brown family, and any cash received from them. Rachel's face drained of color. "Why?" She asked, her voice shaking. Lucas replied indifferently, "If you don’t sign, in five days, I’ll make your family wish they were never born. You have these five days for your family to move out." Her body shook with fear. Is he really serious?

Everywhere in the house smelled like him. There were some things she couldn’t forget, like the way he touched her, the way he kissed, and each time they made love… Fuck. Even the thought of it made her panties go wet. “…I want you to fuck me like you mean it, Ocean.” She whispered in his ear, her legs straddling his waist. As long as it was Eris, he would keep coming to her. He was everything she wanted to run away from, and she was everything that he wanted. But Ocean knew from the very moment he saw her, their relationship as step-siblings would be ill-fated.

“What is your proudest moment alive?” “That I hate my family.” Rosie Ellery hates her family. Her parents don’t even bother to hide the fact that they treat both children differently. Rosie never gets the proper life she deserves, while her step-disabled-sister, gets it all. Rosie knows she should get out of this fuck up house before her parents sell her to a stranger. Alex Angelo graduated from a good college and has a decent job as an editor in a magazine company. Mrs. Angelo is a single parent and rarely home because she travels a lot for work, which Alex and Ayle, his sister, are being grateful for. In conclusion, Alex Angelo has a stable life. Or at least that’s what he would like to believe. Rosie Ellery and Alex Angelo meet through a social experiment run by Your Daily Updates! Magazine. The blonde screams everything but his mom’s approval. After what Ayle has been through, Alex knows better than to try his luck. But damn... You only live once. ‘Let’s play with the fire. Better crying for the result than dying in curiosity.’ For the first time, the obedient puppy chooses to stop pleasing other souls, but a certain blonde. Growing up in a fuck up house, makes Rosie Ellery realize one thing. ‘I’ve had enough of people who doesn’t value my worth. Go fuck yourself if you don’t like me.’ “Let me teach you how to forgive people and move on with your life.” “And why would I do that?” “So you can start a new life with me, obviously?”

I leaned on the kitchen cabinet and brainstormed what can really scare a guy that I am not sure what he is. I opened the drawer and pulled out a knife. “You want to use that to kill me” he was sitting on the dining table “No, to scare you” I walked closer and went behind him, you know what the annoying part was that the guy didn't shudder. Not even when I pressed the knife on his neck. “Go on, slit my throat” Winter Cameron was sold by her father to save her mother who died anyways. To the devil himself Xavier Hades. Winter was a carefree, queen bee who loves everyone that ever set foot on the planet earth. she just can't bring herself to hate anyone. She is smart, beautiful popular and the heartthrob of anyone and everyone that went to Ridgewood highschool.WHILE Her suitor and soon to be king of the dark world was a billionaire while waiting for his bride to become of age so he can finally take what's his but he has to do some despicable things to her that makes her hate him instead. BUT HE CAN'T TAKE NO FOR AN ANSWER. "My house, my rules" "Xavier you don't get it do you" Since he wasn't too focused on my body, his head was way too far up his asshole to see, I stepped out of the shower, still naked of course and ended up right in front of him "I don't want to be in your house" I poked his chest then walked out of the bathroom it wasn't long before I felt him pull me back.

The day after my mom used 880 grand from selling our family restaurant to buy a house for my cousin, my girlfriend of five years dumped me. "Evan," Ruby Lawrence said while she sat across from me. "Let's break up." My hands trembled. "Why?" "I waited for you for five years." Her eyes welled with tears. "You said once the restaurant was sold, we'd have the down payment for a house in Seahaven. Where is it now? Where's the money?" I tried to explain, but she cut me off. "In your parents' eyes, you're not even as important as your cousin. So tell me, who's really their son? I'm 28, Evan. I can't keep waiting." She grabbed her bag and walked away without looking back. My phone buzzed. My mom sent me a photo of her and my cousin at his new house. That was followed with a voice note. She sounded joyful. "Your cousin finally achieved his biggest life goal. We can relax now." I stared at his smug smile in the photo. I laughed until tears ran down my face. I exited the 'Clark Family Forever' group chat and blocked every single relative. 'Since you all choose him, then from this moment on, your reputation or loyalty will have nothing to do with me. I only wonder if you'll think of the son you abandoned when that precious nephew of yours, who you poured all your resources into, throws you out of your own home.'

My son just had surgery. I'm sitting by his bedside in the hospital when I come across a post online. "What's the worst thing you've ever done?" One anonymous comment stands out. "I used the upperclassman who funded me as a stepping stone. My sponsor was rich but clueless. After she paid for my entire college, I slept with her husband and got pregnant. "The craziest part? My son and her son were born on the same day, but my husband swapped the babies. Now, she treats my son like he's her whole world, working day and night to give him a better life. "But her own son lives with me, wearing hand-me-downs and eating leftovers. Today, my son had surgery. I was worried sick, so I slapped her son hard a few times. "Oh, and her family just got a three-million-dollar payout for relocation. My husband is going to the hospital later. He's going to use the excuse of buying a house near the schools to get the money. "Once we have the money, I'm buying a villa. Then I'll get my son back and kick her out!" The post includes a blurry photo of a boy begging on his knees. My breath catches because the charm on his wrist is the same lucky charm I gave my son the day he was born. Just then, my husband pushes open the door to the ward and walks in. "Honey, Sean's starting elementary school soon. Let's use that relocation money your mom received to buy a house near the schools."