Romans & histoires Zuo Hang Tf Family

I died on the day I was supposed to receive the Pack’s Distinguished Service Award. Three hours after I died, my parents, my brother, and my mate were just wrapping up the graduation party they’d thrown for my sister. While my sister, Ella, was posting a cozy family photo on Instagram, I was locked in our basement, using my tongue to swipe on my phone and call for help. The only person who answered was my mate, Ryan. All he said was, "Sophie, cut the drama. Ella's graduation party is important. Enough with the tantrums!" This was the ninety-ninth time they had let me down. And the last. I lay in a pool of my own blood, my lungs still. They thought I was just throwing a fit, hiding somewhere. That if they taught me a lesson, I’d come crawling back. But they didn't know. I was home the whole time. I was already dead.

My mother-in-law is extremely frugal. She reuses paper others have discarded, carefully saving the unmarked portions. She even takes the black waste oil from the kitchen range hood and uses it to cook our meals. She says, "Frugality is a virtue—it brings blessings!" I try tirelessly to convince her otherwise, throwing out all her filthy items to protect my family's health. But while she praises me to my face, behind my back, she uses my baby's food scissors to clip her grimy toenails. My child eventually dies of a lung infection, leaving me heartbroken. My mother-in-law, however, points her finger at me, saying I'm unlucky and that I've brought misfortune to their family. Even my husband blames me. In the end, they use a knitting needle to pierce my throat and stab me to death. When I open my eyes again, I find myself back on the day I first see her picking up dirty paper. The first thing I do is hide all the high-quality tissue paper I had stocked up on before my pregnancy, pretending I knew nothing. She calls these blessings, right? Fine. The blessings of this miserly frugality—she can reap them all herself!

I die in the basement after being burned by acid. My family doesn't recognize me, and they don't call the cops. My mother picks up the scalpel that hasn't been used in years and debones me. My father excitedly mixes my skeleton with concrete and turns me into an exquisite statue. My sister uses the sculpture she's made out of my flesh and portrays herself as a genius sculptor whom everyone admires. Later, the sculpture is shattered, revealing half a broken finger inside. That's when everyone panics.

I check on family businesses in the countryside with my girlfriend, Mildred McClure, in tow. At noon, we stop by my uncle, Barron Cortez's, place for a simple lunch. Just as we are getting ready to leave, his new wife, whom he married just six months ago, Hilda Ross, rushes out and demands that we settle the bill. "Elden, you two just had the Supreme Farmhouse Set Meal, which is 1,888.80 dollars, and your girlfriend picked three organic, pesticide-free tomatoes in the garden. That's 199.80 dollars. "With an 80% service charge, your total comes to 3,800 dollars." Mildred is stunned. "Elden, do we have to pay to eat at your uncle's place?" I start to feel embarrassed, and my expression darkens as I look at Hilda, my supposed aunt, who's barely any older than me. "I've grown up eating at my uncle's place and never paid a single penny. Besides, your prices are downright outrageous!" Hilda calmly whips out a price menu and righteously declares, "That's all ancient history. Now, we're running a farmhouse business where all prices are clearly marked, so everyone pays the same rate. "Barron said you're some big boss in the city. Surely you're not going to stiff us over a little bill, are you?" She steps in front of the gate to block the exit with her body and shoots me a contemptuous look. "Even family settles their accounts. If you don't pay up today, don't even dream about stepping through this door!" While Mildred panics, I laugh in disbelief before taking out my phone and dialing Barron's number. "Uncle Barron, Hilda wants to settle accounts between family, so don't you think it's time we settled our accounts too?"

When I was three years old, my parents became infamous in our social circle as a mutually destructive couple for a misunderstanding that led them to cheat on each other. To get revenge on each other, they didn’t hesitate to hurt me just to hurt one another. Over the next five years, my mother beat me until my bones broke three times. My father “lost” me on purpose five times. And once, during one of their arguments, they threw me straight into the ocean. Eventually, they grew tired of that life, but instead of stopping, they changed the game. They got divorced, and each of them adopted a new child, showering them with affection as if it were some kind of competition As for me? I became the unwanted piece of trash. The only time I mattered was when they thought of each other, and they needed someone to take their anger out on. The only thing that kept me going was a small locket pendant they gave me when I was born. Engraved on it were the words: peace and joy. It was the only source of comfort I had. That was until I turned ten and someone tried to take this last piece of something that felt like it belonged to me away from me. I fought back with everything I had, and for that, I was beaten until my spleen ruptured. By the time my parents arrived, the ground was soaked in blood. However, their faces twisted with disgust. “Daisy, how did you end up like this? You’re just as disgusting as your father.” “What did you say? Say that again! Just look at her, dressed like that. If anything, she’s just as shameless as you!” My cries for help were drowned out by their argument. My body grew heavier and heavier, and before I realized it, the world went quiet. They finally stopped arguing, too.

My brother-in-law started making a fuss about wanting to spend Christmas vacation at the beach, so I decided we'd make it a family trip. When my husband's adoptive sister got wind of it, she insisted on tagging along with her kid. Without a second thought, my husband went ahead and booked plane tickets for everyone—except me. He expected me to drive there with all the luggage. I thought at least someone in the family would speak up for me, but no, they all sided with him. Fine. If that's how they want it, then we'll go our separate ways—what's theirs is theirs, and what's mine is mine. But the moment I took that stance, the whole family suddenly started panicking…

After I turned sixteen, I inherited the huge fortune my parents had left behind. As soon as the money was in my account, I hired a fake family online. A dad, a mom, and an older brother. Then, I gave them their instructions. "My dad doesn't say much, but he always lets me have my way." "My mom is gentle and a wonderful cook, especially when she makes barbecue ribs." "My older brother has poor health, and he doesn't like me. Just act like I don't exist." The three of them froze, and their expressions darkened. A long time passed before the woman playing my mother took my hand and asked softly, "Why did you hire a family? Do you miss them that much?" I avoided the guilt in her eyes, buried my face in her arms, and smiled. "Being alone is too boring." They were obviously relieved, but when no one was looking, I quietly wiped away my tears. What I did not tell them was that… I was dying. So, please. Don't hypnotize me into forgetting your faces again this time.

"Moon Goddess, I'd like to go home," says Seraphina Jarett. The Will of the Moon Goddess speaks to her in her mind. She doesn't reply in any form of language. Instead, it is a calm and saddened torrent of consciousness. "Alright, my child. Your mission is about to be completed. In a week, your soul can leave this place." The usually authoritative voice pauses for a few seconds, which is a rare occurrence. Unable to understand my choice, she says, "My child, you have a mate who loves you deeply and sees you as the light of his life. Your pup puts you first in everything. Isn't this your home now? They are your family… your pack." When Seraphina hears the word "family", her gaze lands on the Moon Pool that is in the middle of the room. At the moment, the pool is showing the Alpha of the Blackwood pack, Caelum Blackwood, and his son, Liam Blackwood, touching down in the pack's private airport.

In my previous life, I took the blame for the false son of the Stafford family and was sentenced to five years in prison. On the day I left jail, my family threw a grand birthday party for Charles. My only birthday present was the removal of my clothes and being frozen to death in the snow. When I opened my eyes, I was once again five years old. My parents stood before me, ready to take me home from the orphanage. My older sister, Juliet Stafford, rushed out from nowhere and blocked the door. She pointed at me—a boy dressed in rags—and shouted, "Dad, Mom! Leave him here, or he'll ruin everything!" Her emotional reaction was different from the one I saw in my previous life. That was when I realized she had been reborn too. After our parents left in disappointment, Juliet walked up to me and forced a piece of candy into my palm. Then she threatened, "Remember this. Chuck is the only son of the Stafford family. A curse like you is not welcome in our home."

When Matteo Ricci threatens to end our engagement for the 100th time unless I take Lydia Capone's place in the famiglia's drug trial, I don't cry or make a scene. I just sign my name on the engagement termination agreement and calmly hand over the man I've loved for eight years to my twin sister. A few days later, Lydia storms the mafia summit like she owns the room, insulting the Pirelli family and daring anyone to stop her. I'm forced to step in and bear the full weight of her chaos. And now they're saying Lydia's body can't handle the trial after all, so they want me, the older sister, to take her place. The moment I agree, my parents smile at me for the first time in years. Even Matteo, who barely notices me, hovers nearby and murmurs, "Don't be afraid. The trial isn't lethal. When you get out, I'll take you for your favorite spaghetti alla Napoletana." But he has no idea that there's a late-stage stomach cancer diagnosis tucked inside my pocket. No matter what horrors the trial holds, he will never witness me walk out alive.