Hypocrisy Awakening Short Stories & Novels

My mother is gravely ill and needs a million dollars for surgery. I run all over the city, desperately trying to borrow the money. Just when I'm at my breaking point, my childhood friend shows up, holding a check for one million dollars. His condition? He wants to marry me. Everyone's waiting for me to say yes, but I calmly refuse. Because in my last life, even after I married him, my mother still died. Her surgery failed. Later, I accidentally overhear a conversation between him and a doctor. "Christopher, you sabotaged the surgery just to transplant Alice's mom's kidney into Jennifer? Was it worth it? If Alice finds out, you’re done." "I just want Jennifer to live. And honestly, marrying someone like Alice? My life is already over." That's when I realize our entire marriage was nothing but a carefully woven lie. He did it all for the woman he truly loved.

After being reborn, I decided to write my sister's name on the marriage application. This time, I would help Sebastian Holt achieve his wishes. In this lifetime, I took the lead—I let my sister wear the wedding dress first and put the engagement ring on her finger. I personally orchestrated every encounter between Sebastian and my sister. When he took her to the capital city, I headed to Southport University without a second thought. In my previous life, even when I was over 50 years old, he and our son still knelt before me, begging for a divorce. This time, I would fulfill his final romantic destiny with my sister. Living this second life, all I wanted was to spread my wings and soar high, free from love's entanglements.

I saved the current queen with my medical expertise and ability to save patients from the clutches of death itself. To fulfil my long-time wish, the queen intended to order that I was to marry the son of a marquess, Eldwin Gennings. However, I fell on my knees and begged her to let me marry a notoriously useless rich heir instead. The queen was shocked. After all, everyone in the Royal Capital knew that I had been in love with Eldwin since we were young. I had even said several times that I would not marry anyone but him. In my past life, I had indeed married Eldwin, just as I wished, but on the night of our wedding, he left me waiting alone in our bedroom. The next day, he married my half-sister as his second wife. I was bullied and framed by my half-sister. As a result, Eldwin cut my wrist tendons and damaged my arms permanently. In the end, my wounds got infected, and I died. When I opened my eyes again, time had rewound to the day the queen ordered me and Eldwin to be married. This time, when he found out that I wanted to marry someone else, he went mad and begged me to take him in.

In the five years of their marriage, Kimberly bore a son for Daniel, believing their life together would last. Then Siena returned to the country. Kimberly finally realized she was nothing but an outsider the whole time. Daniel repeatedly chose Siena over her, and even her son grew attached to Siena. Fortunately, their marriage was just a contract, and in seven days, she would be free to leave.

The day before our mating ceremony, my Alpha mate suddenly demanded I give him five hundred thousand dollars. "You're just an Omega. Even if you're pregnant, you have no right to become the pack's Luna. But our pack is facing a financial crisis right now. We don't have enough weapons or healing supplies. If you can provide funding, the pack might accept a generous Luna who contributes to our survival." To help me, Dad emptied his entire life savings: "I'm old now. Seeing you happy is enough for me. I understand Damon's position as the pack's Alpha. This money—I'll pay it for you." But shortly after the mating ceremony, Dad was sent by my mate to the frontline battlefield to fight rogue wolves. He was severely injured in combat. I couldn't afford the expensive healing herbs he needed. I had no choice Damon Blackwood to help me save my father's life. I never expected his account balance to show only a few dollars! I demanded answers. He accused me of scheming against him and dragged me straight to the pack healer to force an abortion. "You just became Luna and you're already plotting against me? Think having my pup gives you power over me? Let me tell you the truth—I don't lack women willing to bear my children!" I worked every job I could find and borrowed money from everyone I knew. But I still couldn't afford those expensive herbs. The day Dad died, I couldn't even buy him a decent burial plot in the pack cemetery. On my way home from the funeral, I saw Damon with another woman in a luxury jewelry store, selecting expensive pieces. "Turns out all Omegas are the same—always scheming. I thought Sage was different from other women. Didn't realize she was just another gold-digger trying to climb the social ladder by becoming Luna. I guess I lost this bet. Pick any gemstone you want, baby. I'm buying." But when I finally gave up and turned to leave for good, he broke down crying and begged me not to go.

Yuri's father calls and tells me to send his son, the Alpha heir and my childhood friend, home to meet his further mate. But Yuri Blevin is lying next to me, fast asleep and shirtless. Thinking it's just a joke, I nudge him and say with a light laugh, "Yuri, they said they've arranged a mate for you. What do you think?" He raises an eyebrow and lazily wraps an arm around my waist. "Then make sure you pick a nice suit for me. I trust your taste will impress her." When I freeze and say nothing, Yuri opens his eyes and lets out a carefree chuckle. "Hey, Ophelia, what kind of reaction is that? We're just casual lovers, right? Don't tell me you actually thought I'd make you my future Luna?"

I tried to die a hundred times to make him notice me. For two years, I was Shawn Scott’s wife in name only—an unwanted bride bound by a scandal, left to live in the shadow of another woman. My parents only saw my faults. My husband only saw my mistakes. As for me? I saw no way out. Every time I tried to end it, I’d wake up again, bruised and humiliated. I was greeted not with concern, but accusations such as "Why are you so selfish, Zoe Jennings?" or "Why can’t you be more like your sister Yvonne?" It wasn’t until my hundredth suicide attempt that I finally understood: I was the only one fighting for a love that never existed. So, I stopped. I walked away. I disappeared. I gave them what they wanted—my absence. However, when I left, the man who never looked at me twice started chasing the ghost of the woman he thought he knew. By the time he realized what he truly lost, I was already learning how to live again.

To save the three most important men in my life, I made a deal with the Moon Goddess. Trade my life for theirs. If I could make any one of them truly love me within five years, I'd get to live. But on the final day of the countdown, all three still had negative feelings toward me. According to the rules, I'd failed. My life was about to be erased. "Moon Goddess, could I send one last message? One final try?" Maybe out of pity, she granted me this last attempt. This message was my final shot. I hit the voice button in our group chat, fighting to keep my voice steady. "Could you guys love me just a little? I'm really going to die." After a moment of silence came their merciless laughter. "You'll do anything to compete with Lidia for attention, won't you?" "Cut the lies. This just makes us hate you more." "If you're so desperate to die, then just do it already." Mission failed. I gave them exactly what they wanted. But when I was about to die, they all freaked out.

This is the ninth year Dante and I have honored the Month of No Masters. The Corinni family's heir apparent believes this will make our relationship last longer. For one month after our dating anniversary each year, he is free, and we stay out of each other's lives. If either of us finds someone more suitable, we are to wish them well. If not, we go back to the way things were after a month. Around me, the men of the family are spraying champagne with abandon. "To another year of freedom! Congratulations to our Underboss on reclaiming his bachelor status!" "The family betting pool is open! Place your bets on the left if you think they'll still get married, and on the right if you think it's over for good!" Through the hazy cigar smoke, I sat on the corner of a leather sofa, a cold observer, as if this whole farce had nothing to do with me. Dante's hand was curled around Scarlett's waist as he brushed past me, whispering, "Don't get any ideas. You'll always be my only Donna." "I'm a kite. No matter how far I fly, the string is always in your hand." I pressed my cold fingers against the gentle swell of my belly, my expression a blank mask. Dante, this time at the family's betting table, I'm putting my money on "the end." I'm going to vanish from your world completely. That kite string you're so proud of? Tonight, I'm cutting it myself.

For five years, Gideon—my brother's Beta—and I had a secret. We were supposed to announce our mating at the pack's Winter Solstice festival. Instead, he breathed hot against my ear. "Babe, we've been sleeping together for five years. I'm bored with you. Find someone else for the marking ceremony, alright?" I didn't cry. I just gave a calm, simple nod. "Alright." Only because in my last life, I had begged him through tears to complete the bond. After he finally marked me, he grew cold. He never again woke me by rubbing his stubbled chin against my forehead. Even when we made love, he kept his eyes shut, as if he were with someone else, just using my body. When I was in agony giving birth to our pup, fighting for my life, he left me. He was going to comfort his savior, Aveline. The old wound she suffered saving him had relapsed, sending her into a mental spiral. In that moment, I finally understood. A mark I had to beg for was nothing but a curse, a wound that would never heal. This time, I pulled away with a smile, removing his hand from my waist. "You're right. I'm tired of it, too. We're done."

They say Don Julian Marconi would burn the world for one tear of mine. Five years ago, at the Met Gala, he spent millions to hang emeralds around my neck and swore I was his Madonna. Five years later, beneath the velvet boxes of our anniversary, I found a lace strap soaked in sin—and a fresh, crimson smear on his collar that told me exactly whose bed he’d left. I smiled. I asked him to sign a blank sheet of paper. And that meant he was agreeing to whatever I wanted. He called it love. I called it the death warrant for his empire. In fifteen days, I finalized our divorce papers. I boarded the Stella d’Oro as Serena Cole and burned Celeste Marconi to ash on the deck. Then I vanished with his fortune, his power and the one secret that would destroy him. I was the saint he worshipped. Now I am the ghost who haunts him. No groveling. No forgiveness. No second chance. Just ashes.

I'm the type who has the urge to overshare my life with him. It can be anything, be it the flowers blooming by the side of the road, the unpleasant coffee I end up having, or the sunset I've seen when I'm on my way home from work. Heck, when I think of Edwin Howell all of a sudden, I can't resist texting him at all. His replies are always short and perfunctory, though I suppose they count as a form of response from him. Hence, over the past six months, I've relied on these cold-sounding yet present replies to give me enough strength to deal with the engagement party, go wedding gown shopping, and choose the wedding venue all by myself. Somehow, I've managed to hang in there till the week before the wedding. But five days before the wedding, I discover an AI program that's installed within Edwin's computer. It can categorize every single sentence that I've sent to Edwin and extract the keywords. Then, it'll draft the most perfunctory responses that will never go wrong. If I miss Edwin, the AI will reply, "Mm-hmm." If I feel aggrieved, the AI will reply, "Got it." When I try to vent my frustrations to Edwin, the AI will reply, "Don't make such a big deal out of it." It turns out that Edwin isn't the one who has been responding to my need to overshare. The thing is, he has been texting another woman nonstop in another private chat. They talk about anything and everything under the sun, from exchanging simple good mornings and good nights to asking, "What are you having for lunch today?" and "Do you wanna go to the beach someday?" Finally, I realize that Edwin isn't the silent type who keeps his love in. If anything, he's the flashy type who will proclaim his love anywhere, anytime. It's just that… his love has never been mine to have. As for me, I've finally made up my mind to stop spending my life waiting for a response that will never come.

I am someone with a strong desire to share every little detail with my lover. The blush of dawn outside the safe house window, a slightly-too-bitter espresso, the new flower shop on the corner. Even if Carlo's shadow just flickered through my mind for a moment, I couldn't stop myself from hitting send. His replies were always brief, but they were instant. I used to think that was just how a cold man like him showed his love. That all changed seven days before the wedding, when I found an AI auto-responder on the burner phone he never let out of his sight. It broke down every sentence I sent, categorizing them and extracting keywords to generate the most perfectly dismissive answers. When I said I missed him, it replied, "Behave." When I said I was scared, it replied, "I'll handle it." When I wanted to argue, it replied, "Be sensible." So, for half a year, the one replying to my messages was never Carlo. Meanwhile, in another chat window, the messages between him and another woman were piled high. From simple good mornings to random midnight thoughts, From secret talks about family business to whether they should take the yacht out on the weekend. I finally understood. Carlo wasn't a cold person. It wasn't that he didn't like to share his life; he just didn't want to share it with me. And I finally decided to make a heartbroken exit from this absurd charade.

In my previous life, Timothy Yance's female best friend, Selina Sunther, provoked me during my and Timothy's anniversary dinner. "Rosalie, Timothy got super drunk two days ago, and I was the one who helped him change his underwear. But we're really close buddies, so don't think too much about it." I completely lost my composure at that time, resulting in me hurling my wedding ring away and tearing the marriage certificate into pieces. Later on, I gave up on all of our joint assets just so I could stay away from the shameless pair. In the end, I died in a rehabilitation center located in another country. No one bothered to reach out to me at all. After I got buried, Timothy and Selina worked together to build their business empire. Everyone sang praises about their ethereal love for each other. While people were envious of them for being such a perfect couple, they showed nothing but disdain and mockery toward me when I was mentioned. "Timothy's ex-wife never knew how to appreciate him. No wonder she wasn't worthy of him." When I open my eyes again, I've returned to the night of the anniversary dinner. This time, I just smile serenely at Selina instead of breaking down. Then, I turn to link arms with my male best friend, Calvin Solt, whom I've specifically invited to dinner. I even rest my cheek on his chest. Timothy's expression changes drastically, whereas Selina's smile freezes on her face. Calvin merely smiles faintly before he raises his glass to Timothy as a toast. "Don't misunderstand our relationship, Timothy. Rosalie and I have known each other for 20 years, so we're used to taking care of each other. "Heck, I was also the one taking care of Rosalie the whole time on our first night together, be it in bed or the aftercare."

My husband brought home a set of triplets and insisted they were mine. I rushed to get a DNA test done overnight, and the results proved that none of the three children were related to either of us. But my husband lost it. He slapped me, called me disgusting, and forced me to sign the divorce papers, leaving me with nothing. Furious and shaken, I went to my best friend to vent. But the second she saw those three children, she grabbed the fruit knife from the table and slashed my face. “If you dare say they aren’t yours again, next time, I won’t stop there.” My chest felt so tight I could barely breathe. That night, I bought a ticket and fled back to my parents’ house. I cried as I told them everything. But after hearing me out, they grabbed a garden hoe and beat me to death. Even as everything went dark, I still couldn’t understand why everyone was forcing me to accept three children I had never given birth to. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day my husband first brought them home.

On the day I become an actual heir of a wealthy family, the fake heir, Andrew Scott, tells me that he wishes to return the marriage contract to me, his eyes red and puffy. Thinking about my girlfriend, Elyssa Grant, who has just gotten pregnant, I reply softly, "It's fine. I already have someone I love." As soon as my words fall, I see comments floating in front of my eyes all of a sudden. "What a joke! The villain might be swift in rejecting the marriage contract right now, but once he sees the female lead, he'll definitely regret his decision!" "But the female lead still chooses to be with the male lead at the end of the day. That's when the villain starts pestering her." "In the end, the male lead is forced to slit his wrist, leading to the villain getting hated by the entire Scott family. He'll die a tragic death after that." I lower my gaze, finding it absurd. Why would I pester a woman I've never seen before in my life? At that moment, I hear footsteps echoing from behind me. As Andrew wipes his tears away, he approaches the newcomer hastily. "El, this is my older brother, Eddie Scott. This marriage contract is originally his." I turn around to meet a pair of familiar eyes. It's Elyssa, my girlfriend of five years who has supported me and is currently pregnant with my baby.

I come from an old-money family. My grandfather's will was ironclad: whoever gets an Ivy League acceptance letter unlocks 25% of a massive trust fund and a seat on the family board. Out of four siblings, I was the only one who stood a chance. Every night, my mother Victoria carefully made me a cup of "organic brain-boosting matcha." My twin sister Chloe and younger brother Mason never got that privilege. The night before the December SAT—the last chance for Regular Decision Ivy scores—Victoria handed me my green matcha as usual. The next day, my mind went completely blank during the test. I blacked out. I missed that application season. Meanwhile, Chloe—who spent her time at yacht parties and couldn't read an equation—miraculously got an offer from UPenn and sailed right onto the board. The second year, right before the test, my snobby cousin Brianna reached for my matcha. Victoria slapped her hand away and screamed: "Don't touch Ava's things!" That exam, I got severe stomach cramps and was rushed to the ER by ambulance. I had to drop out again. And Brianna—who only cared about designer bags—somehow got into Cornell and took her board seat. The whole family popped champagne in our Upper East Side penthouse. I became the laughingstock of Manhattan's elite, having missed two application seasons in a row. Why did my body crash like clockwork, right at the final, life-changing SAT? Prepping for the third time, I took no chances. For three days before the test, I ate only gluten-free detox meals controlled by a private nutritionist. But the night before the big test, Victoria smiled and brought me that familiar cup of green matcha.

When I was five, I was kidnapped, and the people behind it memorized my face. To protect me, my older sister, Julianne, said, "Maddie, you need to stay out of sight for your own safety." From then on, she took my place whenever I was supposed to appear with my fiance, Adrian Moretti. At the grand opening of his casino, she said the crowd would be too dangerous, so she wore my dress and cut the ribbon beside him. At the Conti family's victory gala, she claimed our enemies might be lying in wait, so she took my invitation and danced with Adrian. After every event, she would pat my head and say: "Once the two of you are married, I can finally stop worrying." I always believed she was doing it for my sake. Then, before my wedding to Adrian, she put on my wedding gown and publicly stood in for me at the rehearsal. She posted pictures on her social media page. Wearing the gown that was supposed to be mine, she stood at the end of the aisle with her arm linked through Adrian's. The caption read: [I tested everything for Maddie first. It was all perfect.] The first comment underneath was from Adrian. [That dress suits you.] I stared at those words for a long time as my heart slowly turned cold. It was time to end this game of replacing me in the name of protecting me.

Before my best friend Scott Hawkins died of cancer, his greatest concern was the online girlfriend he had never met in person. He clutched my hand, tears streaming down his face. "Ian, her depression is severe. I'm afraid losing me might push her over the edge. Can you keep using my account for a while, gradually distance yourself, and end things once she's had time to adjust?" With tears in my eyes, I promised him I would. For the next three years, I pretended to be Scott. I helped her through another depressive episode, supported her as she got her career back on track, and then gradually began distancing myself. Today, I finally decided three years was long enough. She'd had enough time to accept that the relationship was over and move on. So I typed, [We shouldn't talk anymore. It's over,] and hit send. At that exact moment, my fiancée's phone lit up on the coffee table. The breakup message I had just sent appeared on her screen.

While on a trip, I caught my Alpha fiancé cheating on me with my adoptive sister, Selena. Once they realized I saw them, they ruthlessly abandoned me in that forbidden forest and let Selena return to take my place. For ten days, I was missing. No search party came, and my communication crystal remained silent. Then, while trying to escape a savage bear, I fell down a rocky slope and was left broken, bleeding, and alone. Just as I was on the brink of death and unable to heal, Ryker appeared and saved me. He was wild and imposing, yet lethally gentle. During our days and nights together in the wilderness, it took only a few hoarse whispers to tear down my defenses. I grew absurdly attached to him, believing he was my only salvation in this desolate place. Until one night, I found him contacting the outside world on a high-grade crystal. On the other end was Selena. "Why haven't you finished her off yet? As long as she never comes back, Alaric will be all mine." And my devoted savior replied in that same doting tone, "As long as it makes you happy, I'd spend a lifetime keeping up this charade with her in the wilderness." It was then I understood. What I believed to be a gift from the Goddess was nothing more than another death trap, meticulously woven to ensure Selena got her way. When my heat arrived, on the night of our supposed marking, I threw myself into the roaring river of death that marked the border. I would rather be torn to shreds by the current than look at that despicable "mate" for another second.