New Family

Half a year after our divorce, my ex-husband became a trending topic online. His current wife, who had just given birth, jumped off a building. When she jumped, she was clutching a printed, 98-page copy of the "Cloves Family Code of Conduct." The reason for her suicide? She couldn’t buy discounted groceries online. A reporter came to interview me and asked, "Excuse me, were you also given the same family rules?"

My brother was a twisted, paranoid psychopath. When I was ten, my parents were murdered. Both my legs broke off while I tried to save my brother. I became his only family and also Achilles’ heel. Those who mocked me as a crippled would have their bones broken, and anyone who tried to hurt me would be smashed into a pulp. As he reclaimed our family’s fortune, he became “the Devil” in Amberwater, a man no one dared to offend. Yet, he alone spoiled me like I was a little princess. Everyone knew that Lucas’s sister was untouchable. He had sent me abroad to receive the best treatment. The day that I could finally stand up again, I received an invitation to my brother’s engagement banquet. “Veronica, we’re going to have a new family member soon.” I heard that his fiancee was the daughter of a wealthy family. She was gentle and virtuous. I dressed beautifully to meet her and planned to give her the jade bracelet that my mother had left behind. However, she had me kidnapped and taken to an abandoned construction building. “You lowly little witch. I’ll rip that face of yours since you’re such a seductress. I’ll see how you’ll steal my man now!” She crushed my mother’s heirloom, broke all my limbs, and ripped my face off. Then, she ordered a dozen men to torment me to death. In the end, she stuffed me into a gift box and sent it to my brother. “Dearest, this is your wedding gift. Do you like it?”

The day after the new year, during a family gathering, my aunt sneered at me as I worked overtime, reviewing a proposal. "Why are you pretending to be so busy? It’s not like we don’t know you only make three thousand a month. Real money-makers are people like my daughter, a designer so successful she doesn’t even have time to come home!" I ignored her, but she directed her spoiled son to delete all my files while I was in the bathroom. My hands trembled with rage. "This proposal is due in ten minutes—if I don’t submit it, everything is ruined!" She scoffed dismissively. "He’s just a kid. What could he possibly know? Besides, your job isn’t even worth much. If you lose the files, you lose them. Worst case, you get fired." I chuckled coldly but said nothing. She had no idea it was the proposal her daughter had spent an entire month working on. And I was the client who held her daughter’s fate in my hands.

My father cheated. I cut him out of my life. To get my forgiveness, my father put Lucas Moretti, the Don of New York, in my bed. I fell for Lucas, fast. He knew how to play gentle. Night after night, he’d hold me tight, fuck me like he owned me, and whisper how obsessed he was with me. Six months later, I was pregnant. I was the princess of New York's underworld. My father and Lucas gave me everything. They treated me like I was made of glass. But the day of the baby's blessing at the church? They were a no-show. My father said there was family business to handle. Then I got an anonymous link. A wedding. Live. In the video, my father, Lorenzo, was walking his mistress, Carla—the woman who killed my mother—down the aisle, a happy smile plastered on his face. And the other happy couple? My fiancé, and my father's bastard daughter, Sofia. I could hear Lucas’s voice clearly: "Well, Bella used to bully Sofia. I'm just helping her get the justice she deserves... As for Bella, it's time she was unburdened from a life she isn't built for." "I'll take over the Gallo family shares for her," he continued, "so she and our child can live without a care in the world." My father’s voice followed. "Bella’s too much like her mother—ambitious. That’s not a good thing for a woman." As my world shattered, a text from an unknown number lit up my screen: "Marry me, and the child you're carrying will be the sole heir of the Russo family."

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.

Five years ago, my brother's fiancée died because of me. Five years later, I'm burned to a crisp and laid out on his autopsy table.

My mother was the best portrait artist in the police station. She had a strong sense of justice and brooked no evil. However, all I got was a sharp retort when I called her to save me. "You know it's your sister's coming-of-age celebration today, and you're cursing her? Kidnapped, are you? Fine, the kidnappers can kill you for all I care." She assumed it was a prank call. So, she refused to go to the police station and do her job. I wasn't saved in time and was tortured to death. When the DNA report came out, she came to the scene all wobbly. She drew a portrait of me with my bones as reference, her hand trembling all the way. "Jessica? It can't be her. This is a mistake!" She tried again and again. Yet, it didn't matter how many times she redid it as the portrait showed my face. My mother, who had hated me my whole life, teared up.

Ever since my mom gave birth to her second child, everything in the household is tied to drawing lots. Everyone has to draw lots in order to decide whose favorite food will be served for each meal. We have to draw lots to see who among us gets a hug from our parents. Every time, I end up drawing the short end of the stick, so everyone automatically assumes that my younger sister, Anabelle Madden, gets the better lot. She easily reaps my parents' love without having to do anything at all. Whenever I feel like crying because of the injustice, Mom will scold me instantly. "I bought the lottery box because I was worried that you might feel upset about this. I'm doing this just to be fair to both of you. "If you want something, you have to be the one deciding who gets what. Your father and I won't interfere with your decision at all. Since you can't draw the better lot, that just means you have bad luck." Hence, I keep practicing my lot-drawing skills every day, hoping that I can eventually draw the better lot in order to obtain my parents' love. But for ten years, I never get to draw the better lot. Not even once. On my birthday, Anabelle wants to go to the amusement park, so Mom tells us to draw lots once again. I secretly glue two short lots together before giving it to Mom in an attempt to get her to stay with me. Instead, she slaps me and berates me for being a disobedient child who cheats in lot-drawing. Then, she leaves the house with Anabelle. When I fall to the floor, I feel the short sticks piercing through my neck.

My neighbors across the hall had a nasty habit of stealing. This included my food deliveries, my shoes from the cabinet, and even my clothes drying on the rooftop. Nothing was safe from them. I had enough. One day, I placed a pair of shoes borrowed from my friend, who was battling an extreme case of athlete’s foot, outside my door. Not long after they stole them, they came banging on my door in the middle of the night, furious about the outbreak on their feet. They even filed a complaint at the hospital where I work. I was so furious that I invited a few homeless patients to move in. A muscular man with HIV, an elderly woman with syphilis, and a young man with severe mental health issues became their new neighbors. The thieves could not handle it and begged the landlord to evict them. However, the joke was on them. My family owned the entire building. If anyone was leaving, it certainly was not me.

When I return home on Christmas Eve, I find a stamp on my wife's body. She looks flustered as she explains that it's a mark every member of her family has. I sneer to myself. She has no idea that I'm a member of the Anti-Cheating Organization. With the help of a system, I can easily track my wife's whereabouts and see what she's done. She's my last target before completing my mission. Once I'm done with her, I'll get ten million dollars.