Mind Control Daughter Novels & Stories

On the night of New Year's Eve, I wake up in a hospital ward with an IV drip connected to the back of my hand. A nurse passes me the hospital bill. "It's 300 dollars in total, including the emergency treatment fee and the cost for a bottle of glucose drips." When I turn on my phone, I feel my heart sinking. I only have 29.01 dollars left in my bank account. The wallpaper of my phone is a countdown of my family contract's app. Today is the date when I have to renew my family contract for the year. In order to accumulate enough money to go home, I've been working as a staff member in concert venues. Earlier, I had collapsed backstage, so I was quickly sent to the hospital. The dial tone keeps beeping for a long time. Finally, my mom answers my call in what seems to be a noisy background. "Mom, I'm at the hospital right now. I need 300 dollars to pay the hospital bill." "You're at the hospital?" Mom's voice turns shrill immediately. "Why did you visit the hospital during the holidays? You really are a jinx!" "I fainted earlier. I was working at a concert venue—" "What? So, you refused to do chores at home during the holidays! Instead, you decide to work at a concert venue?" Mom interrupts immediately. "I don't have 300 dollars on me! You'd better come up with a way to pay that bill of yours!" "Mom…" My hand tightens around my phone. "Today is the last day of my family contract's renewal period. I'll renew the contract once I pay the bill." "Renew the contract, huh?" Mom just sneers at me. "That's a part of your duties! How dare you use it against me! Helena Lambert, if you don't renew the contract today, you can forget about calling me 'Mom'!" After that, she ends the call. I can only grip my phone to the point that my fingers turn white. After that, I tap on a social media app in hopes that I can borrow money from my friends, only to see the latest post on the social media feed. My younger sister, Hannah Lambert, has posted a photo collage there. "I'm here with my parents to watch my favorite singer's concert! Snagging tickets to the first-row seats is definitely worth it!" The background of those photos is the same concert venue where I work part-time at. It's the most expensive venue in town. Apparently, tickets cost 2,900 dollars each.

After climbing my way up from nothing to become the richest man in the city, I got used to keeping a low profile. Until one day, I received a call from my granddaughter’s kindergarten. They said she had hit another child in class and told me to come in to settle the matter. But when I arrived, I found my granddaughter covered in injuries. The boy who claimed she had hit him didn’t have a scratch on him. Instead, he spat at me with a smug look on his face. “You old geezer. Your whole outfit isn’t even worth as much as one pair of my sneakers. Take your broke little granddaughter and get out!” I stared at the homeroom teacher in disbelief. She only curled her lip. “Kids say silly things. Besides, what Harvey Harris said isn’t exactly wrong. “His grandfather is the richest man in the city. Our kindergarten is an elite school, after all. Ordinary families like yours should stop coming here just to embarrass yourselves. You’d be better off transferring her somewhere else.” When I heard the boy’s name, I almost laughed. I pulled out my phone and called John Harris, my driver of ten years. “John, stop waiting by the car. Come to the office. “Why? Because the grandson you begged me to help get into this kindergarten just beat up my granddaughter.”

It's 11:30 pm. Home alone, I decide to order some takeout. When the map shows the delivery guy is zero miles away, I receive a call from him. I pick up, only to hear unsettling silence from the other end. I hang up, annoyed. The next moment, the guy texts me, "Sorry, I'm hearing-impaired and unable to speak. I called to notify you to pick up your food as soon as possible. I can't explain things over the phone, and I apologize for that." Then comes another text. "You must've been waiting for a long time. I've left your order at your door, so please pick it up as soon as you can." Just as I prepare to open the door, I see bars of live comments—reminiscent of livestream chats—floating right before my eyes. "Don't open the door! That dude isn't a delivery guy at all! He's a murderer!" "He called you to check if you're a woman living alone!" "Seriously, why are all thriller story protagonists always so dumb? The delivery guy is obviously suspicious, yet she still wants to open the door."

"Four years, Malia. You let me believe those faith, hope and love you've shown me were all pure, but they're not." tears began pouring from John's eyes. "I'm so sorry, John." my mutters could not help from turning into wails. "I was too immature at that time. I was supposed to fix the issue but I couldn't." "Despite that, thank you so much for everything you have done. Your lies turned me into the monster that even your grandfather cannot win against." "I love you, John. I really do. And I can't live without you. Please, forgive me. I am willing to do everything to win your heart." "Take care, Malia. Hopefully, our paths will never cross again."

I was a writer. I rented a place in the countryside to seek inspiration. The villagers said it was a haunted house. Twenty years ago, a mad woman murdered her daughter by piercing a needle into her skull! I did not believe it, but I got a call from a little girl that night. She said it was 2002, and her mother was trying to kill her!

When I got home, I received dozens of voice messages from a parent. They had been sent in the group chat with other parents of children in the same kindergarten class as my daughter, Lily. [Ms. Channing, didn't I tell you that my daughter is allergic to furry toys? Why did you allow that boy, Sparky, to give my daughter a hugging bear?] Ms. Channing quickly denied this. No child called Sparky had ever studied in the kindergarten. Another parent was also furious about this. [How can you claim that? My son said Sparky would always force him to play hide-and-seek. If he refuses, Sparky would grab his hair!] I quickly asked Lily what this was about. Lily took out a hugging bear from behind her back and told me about it. [Ms. Channing can't see Sparky. Only smart children can see him. Sparky is a little boy with red eyes. Every child who plays hide-and-seek with Sparky will get a hugging bear.]

The day I found out I was pregnant with my second child, the impossible happened: the baby in my womb spoke. "Stupid sister, are you even listening? Mom said that as soon as you graduate, she's selling you off. That money is for my future wedding!" My daughter went still. She didn't say a word, didn't confront me, didn't even cry. She just quietly applied to study abroad. And from that day on, I never heard from her again. My husband, seeing how devastated I was, moved to comfort me. But the baby's voice cut through the silence once more. "Comfort her? You're the biggest fool in this house! When I'm born, I'm not calling you 'Dad.' My real dad is that handsome guy from the bar!" The color drained from Sean's face. Before I could utter a word of explanation, he dragged me straight to the hospital for a paternity test. The results came back quickly—my best friend had pulled some strings to expedite them. And there it was, in cold, clinical print: NO PATERNITY BIOLOGICALLY ESTABLISHED. He didn't let me speak. He filed for divorce immediately. In a panic, the baby's voice cried out from inside me again, "Why is the idiot backing out now? Did he finally figure out Mom tricked him? The one who saved his life all those years ago wasn't her—it was her best friend!" That one sentence shattered my entire world. My husband turned his back on me and married my best friend. As for me… the shock and grief hit me like a physical blow. I felt a hot, sudden gush of blood. Before the doctors could save me, I died on that cold hospital bed, my hands clutching my swollen belly, my mind still reeling, unable to comprehend how my life had unraveled so completely. It wasn't until I was reborn, and once again heard the treacherous little voice inside me, that I finally began to understand the truth.

My name is Margaret Turner. After my daughter, Sarah McDowell, becomes pregnant, I am shocked to find that I can hear the thoughts of the baby in her womb. "Grandma, please don't let Mommy get the prenatal checkup! If they learn I'm a girl, Dad will make her get rid of me. I don't want to die!" I can't believe what I'm hearing. Knowing that my son‑in‑law, Jeremy O'Brien, works at a hospital and can use his connections to learn the baby's gender, I do everything in my power to keep Sarah from being examined. But three months later, doctors confirm that Sarah's baby has a congenital deformity and is fated to be born disabled. Sarah is devastated, and guilt consumes me. Suddenly, I hear my granddaughter's voice again. "It's all because of Dad. He cheated with that nurse and returned home soaked in her cheap perfume. As soon as Mommy breathed it in, I was fated to come into the world deformed. Poor Mommy…" Rage explodes inside me. Without a second thought, I storm into Jeremy's workplace, determined to catch him in the act. I don't expect to walk in on a critical heart surgery he is performing. My intrusion throws the room into chaos, and the patient dies on the operating table. The patient's family loses control, and they cause a violent scene in the hospital. In the mayhem, Jeremy is killed on the spot. When Sarah learns what I've done, she is consumed by rage and declares she wants nothing more to do with me. At that moment, my granddaughter's voice echoes in my mind once more. "Mommy is heartbroken and needs time to heal. Grandma, please don't make things worse. Mommy will be okay after she rests." Hearing this, I force myself to stay calm. But that very night, word arrives that Sarah has thrown herself into a river and ended her life. Shattered by grief, I eventually make the same tragic choice. As my final breath fades, my granddaughter's chilling laugh echoes in my ears. When I open my eyes again, I find myself back on the day her voice first crept into my mind.

In a music competition show, my rival unexpectedly played the melody I had in my mind before I could. Shocked, I confronted her, asking why she plagiarized me. However, she turned the accusation against me and said, "You said I stole your work, but do you have any proof?" However, I was unable to provide any concrete evidence. Thus, I was labeled as a bully and a plagiarist, ultimately meeting a tragic end. Even in my final moments, I couldn't figure out how she managed to steal something from my mind. When I opened my eyes again, I found myself back on that same stage. Seeing that my rival was about to play her part, I stopped her and said, "This time, it's my turn to go first."

When I got pregnant, I was about to inform my parents about the good news. Suddenly, the baby in my belly cried for help. “Mom, please don’t! Grandpa and Grandma favor boys over girls. If they know that I’m a girl, they will definitely poison you to abort me!” I turned off my phone with doubts, and I was worried that the news of my pregnancy would be leaked. But a fire broke out at my house, and I missed 99 calls from my parents. I was grieved and heartbroken, and my husband went through the darkest time with me. When I was getting back on my feet, the baby’s voice echoed again. “Mom, you’re so pitiful. Dad is dating his mistress in the company, and all he feels for you is just guiltiness.” I instantly felt flustered. Without thinking more, I just rushed inside my husband’s company to catch the cheaters. Unexpectedly, I just blew up a company contract worth over a hundred million. My husband was very disappointed in me. He took a divorce paper and forced me to sign. I desperately tried to keep him, but I heard the baby’s voice again. “Dad hates women who wouldn’t let go. Mom, if you let go of him in time and leave with nothing, Dad will come and cry to beg you to go back some time later!” In the end, I chose to listen to my baby. But I was broke and homeless, and I just slept on the streets at night. My husband, Liam Grant, immediately married a girl who looked like me. At their wedding, he blamed me for leaving him so heartlessly. I cried and wanted to go back to Liam, but a truck that ran a red light ran over me and crushed me into nothing. In the end, I died with my eyes open. Before I died, I vaguely heard the baby’s prideful laugh. When I opened my eyes again, I went back to the day when I found out my pregnancy.