Hypocrisy Biological Family Short Stories & Novels

I come home for the holidays to find four pairs of slippers beside the shoe cabinet. There's a pair for my dad, Dean Pratt, a pair for my mom, Nancy Kerr, and two pairs for my sister, Luna Pratt, including a spare. Mine isn't there. Although my sister attended school in another state, kept her room exactly as it was. Even her slippers sit by her bedside, waiting for her return. I had been away from home for three years. When I returned, I discovered that my belongings had disappeared one by one. And now, they hadn’t even kept a pair of slippers for me. I stand in the entryway, my feet bare. "Where’s my pair?" Mom pokes her head out. "You hardly ever come back, so I threw them away. They were taking up space." But the soles of my sister’s spare pair had already been worn smooth, and they were still neatly sitting in their original place. The next day, I buy a new pair for myself at the supermarket and put them beside the shoe cabinet. That night, I check the shoe cabinet and find them gone. Dad is watching TV on the couch. "Luna's classmate came over, so I gave them to her." "I just bought them." Dad doesn't even turn around. "It's just a pair of slippers. Get another one." Luna pauses. "Huh? I thought Mom had bought them for guests." It makes sense. Guest slippers were supposed to be thrown away once the guest had left.

The day SAT scores dropped, my twin sister Emily totally tanked. She cried so hard she could barely breathe. Mom, Dad, and Kenneth spent all night babying her. After midnight, Mom finally remembered I existed. "Amelia, what'd you get?" I checked my score. 1580. "Good enough for Halston." Halston was one of the best colleges in the country. The whole room went dead silent. For one stupid second, I thought they might actually be proud of me. Dad just stared. "You and Emily are twins. You look almost exactly alike. "Why don't you switch identities? "Let Emily go to Halston as you."

I land a 30-million-dollar deal for my parents' factory. On payday, my older sister, Hailey Irving, receives a 50,000-dollar bonus. Meanwhile, my younger brother, Hanson Irving, gets a 100,000-dollar bonus. But my pay slip shows only one line—Base Salary 3,000 dollars. "Hailey hasn't made a single mistake in the books in ten years. As encouragement, you get a 50,000-dollar bonus." "All the clients praise Hanson for being handsome and charming. He deserves the most credit for landing this big deal, so I'm giving him a 100,000-dollar bonus." Before I can even react, Mom throws 30 crumpled bills at me while saying with disdain, "Someone who's both stupid and ugly needs to work harder. Don't think putting in more effort means you're worth more. That's all the value you create." I stare at my pay slip, feeling dazed. My parents raise us to be independent, so everything in our family comes with a price tag. A plate of steak and fries costs 30 dollars. A ten-minute hot shower costs 50 dollars. To earn money, my siblings and I have to work at our parents' factory from a young age. Hailey is good at math, so she sits in the air-conditioned office writing receipts. Hanson is handsome, so he works as a greeter in the reception room, where snacks are available in unlimited supply. As for me, I was the family’s all-purpose errand runner, forced to fill in wherever help was needed. I unload shipments, sweep floors, and even go out to negotiate business deals. However, all three of us earn the same base salary of 3,000 dollars per month. If I want meat for my meals, I have to work desperately hard and constantly find ways to create more value. But now, I no longer understand what all that hard work is for. I lower my head and take out my phone to search through the spam messages until I find the one offering me a high-paying job.

With my first paycheck, I buy three air conditioners for my family. But when I come home from work, I find that my west-facing bedroom is still sweltering like an oven. And there's a huge winter melon sitting on my bed. Mom proudly pats its skin. "We moved the air conditioners into your brother's and sister's rooms. We had one left over, so we installed it in your sister's art studio. "The outdoor unit for your room would be right outside your sister's window, and the humming would keep her awake at night. Just sleep with a winter melon. It'll keep you cool enough." I open my mouth, but the dull ache in my chest leaves me unable to speak. She has forgotten that I was hospitalized for heatstroke just last month. The doctor warned me to stay out of the heat after I was discharged. I turn toward the studio at the end of the hallway. Cool air spills through the crack beneath the door. Dad is adjusting the lighting over my sister's easel. My brother is holding a freshly cut slice of chilled watermelon to her lips. And my boyfriend of three years is carefully adjusting the airflow for her with the remote. "Angle the vents upward. Don't let her catch a cold." I wipe the sweat from my forehead and stare at the ridiculous winter melon on my bed. Suddenly, I don't want to fight for anything anymore. I take out my phone and reply to my supervisor. "You said I could become a permanent employee early if I transferred to the new branch in Veymont. I agree." After making it through twenty-two summers, all I want is to give myself a spring that never ends.

After the college entrance exam ended, my younger sister, who had been my only family for seven years, told me calmly, "I left the whole thing blank." I froze and could not get a single word out. A look of vengeful satisfaction crossed her face as she went on, "Jett Sullivan and I never broke up either. I left it blank for him. His grades are awful, so there's no way he's getting into a good college. I promised him we'd spend all four years just having fun." Her words cut straight through me, yet she did not seem to think she had done anything wrong. She met my eyes openly and coldly. "The exam's over now anyway. If you're fine with me dating Jett, I'll still call you my brother. If not, we cut ties for good." She glanced at my trembling hands and paused. "If you still want me as your sister, fine. Give Jett every paycheck you've earned all these years. Think of it as a gift to him."

The year my younger brother, Leo Mercer, comes into the world, I instantly turn from the apple of Mom and Dad's eye into a ghost. I remember how Mom used to stay up all night out of guilt just because a mosquito bit me. However, later, when Leo knocks over a pot of boiling water and leaves my back covered in blisters, her only priority is telling him not to blame himself. When I was 17, a fire accidentally breaks out at home, and Mom and Dad immediately carry Leo out of the house. I'm left behind and nearly burn to death before Mom and Dad finally remember they have a daughter. Even though I'm ultimately saved, I end up with a four-inch scar across my abdomen. Mom and Dad hold my hand, with tears in their eyes, as they explain that Leo has been diagnosed with uremia, and they took one of my kidneys without my consent and gave it to him. I take in the joy and gratitude in their eyes at having me back and foolishly believe that my sacrifices can earn me their love. Sure enough, when Thanksgiving comes in the year I turn 18, Mom gives me the first slice of pumpkin pie. I look up, pleasantly surprised, only to find cold calculation gleaming in her eyes. "Daphne, your brother only has one kidney. If he doesn't have a house, he'll never be able to find a wife. Now that you're 18, it's time you get married. We'll use your wedding gift to help him buy a house." Dad actually looks me in the eye for once. "We've already accepted the wedding gift. You're getting married tomorrow." My fingertips are reddened by the heat of the plate, and tears roll down my cheeks and drip onto the pie. At that moment, I finally realize that Mom and Dad aren't blind to my existence; they simply don't love me.

The day I was finally welcomed back into the Salazar family, Nathaniel Salazar—the frail adopted son they'd raised in my place—died from heart failure. My sister, Alyssa, shaved her head and withdrew from the world, claiming she wanted to soothe Nathaniel's restless soul. My parents had lost two children in a single night, and they blamed me for both. To make amends, they decided my heart would one day be donated to a distant young relative suffering from the same condition. After all, that little boy had been Nathaniel's favorite person in the world. From that day on, I was forbidden from drinking, smoking, staying up late, or doing anything that might damage my health. They called it redemption for my brother. For ten years, I lived like a spare part, a replacement waiting for the day I would finally be needed. Then, three days before the transplant surgery, I saw Nathaniel in the hospital. He was alive. He was curled up against Alyssa's shoulder, acting spoiled while our parents watched with indulgent smiles. Alyssa gently stroked his hair. "Don't be scared, Nathaniel. Jordan's healthy heart will be yours soon. After this, you'll never be sick again." I lowered my eyes to the results of my pre-surgery examination: stage IV stomach cancer with multiple organ failure. Not a single organ was suitable for transplantation.

Mom was a world-class micro-expression expert. She always said no lie got past her. To replay every emotional moment of Maya and me, she packed our house with HD security cameras. When Maya scraped her knee and burst into tears, Mom called it real pain. But when stomach cramps twisted my face, she pointed at the monitor and picked me apart. "The mouth twitch. The darting eyes. Classic attention-seeking." That day, I'd accidentally eaten something I was deadly allergic to. My throat swelled shut. I could barely breathe. Panicking, I clawed at my neck and crawled to her feet, begging for help. Mom adjusted her glasses, flipped open her notebook, and calmly wrote everything down. "Rapid breathing. Bluish skin. Sophie Schneider, your acting's gotten better again. Too bad your micro-expressions gave you away." To punish me for lying to her, she shut off the house's panic button, locked the front door, and took Maya to a concert. "If you love putting on a show so much, keep performing for the cameras. We'll see how long it takes before you admit you were wrong." I curled up on the cold tile, shaking in pain, and looked at the camera's blinking red light. My vision faded. Mom, you spent your whole life reading people. But you never understood your own daughter.

I need to drive to and from work due to a change in my job scope. However, my father-in-law hoards my car and refuses to return it. My husband stands up for him. "How can you be so materialistic? So what if you have to take an electric scooter to work?" So, I sell the car. My husband points at me and snaps, "What right do you have to sell Dad's car?" I look at him calmly. "I've sold the one you drive too."

A real heir who boasted of having watched 500 short dramas about real and fake heirs came to live with my family. He developed a high fever that wouldn't break during a torrential downpour on his very first night with us, earning endless sympathy from our parents. "I know every trope in those short dramas like the back of my hand. How could a villainous side character like you, who does nothing but throw tantrums, possibly be a match for me?" he bragged. After that, he drove the butler who had cared for me since I was a child back to the countryside. He also turned my closest cousin against me, so much so that my cousin slapped me in front of everyone. He trampled all over my dignity and became the apple of my family's eye within a year. He was just as dismissive when I got engaged to the young heiress from Kingsbridge. "It'll be easy for me to make her hate you. All I need to do is pull one little trick. You'll see!" During the engagement party, he pulled me toward the stairs and started shrieking, intending to accuse me of pushing him down the stairs. However, the triumphant look on his face morphed into shock when he lunged forward. He blurted angrily, "Are you kidding me? Who has a staircase painted on the floor?"

Claudia Hepburn had seduced his fiancé, Arthur Maxwell, ninety-nine times. However, he was still into her sister, Fione Hepburn. Not only was he nowhere to be seen on the day of the wedding, but he even went ahead and registered his wedding with Fione instead. Claudia was turned into a laughingstock after that. While she was drowning in despair, Arthur’s brother, Brett Maxwell, showed up and took her into his arms. He confessed that he had been secretly in love with her for ages and beckoned her to turn to him. Enchanted by his devotion, she decided to marry him instead. Even after five years of marriage, Brett still doted on her endlessly. That was until a shipwreck took him away. On the day of the funeral, she was so heartbroken that she felt the urge to smash her head against his coffin to end it all right there. It was only when she found she was pregnant that she gave up on the idea of ending it all. She decided she would live on and grieve her late husband for the rest of her life. Just when she was expecting the rest of her life to play out that way, she happened to eavesdrop on a conversation between her ex-fiancé and his friends. “Brett, your brother was the one who died in that shipwreck, but here you are pretending to be him. Did you do it so you could be together with his wife? Aren’t you worried about someone finding out about this?” “I can't be bothered to worry about all that now, I’ve loved Fione from the beginning. I had to endure so much humiliation and marry Claudia just so I could prevent her from ruining Fione’s happiness. Now that God has given me such a perfect chance, I will not sell myself short anymore!”

My older sister, Lucy Wheeler, is an extremely sensitive person. She'll burst into tears immediately if her doll is dirty or if a cream puff bursts in advance. In order to maintain peace in the household, my parents will fulfill any of Lucy's wishes endlessly. Since she doesn't like me at all, my parents don't hesitate to kick me back to my grandparents' home in the countryside. Later on, Grandpa and Grandma pass away one after the other, leaving me with no choice but to go home to my parents and Lucy. That's when everyone sets up 3672 house rules for me to follow. Since Lucy loves blueberries, I'm not allowed to touch any of them. Since Lucy loves dresses, I'm not allowed to look prettier than her. After undergoing 20 years of torment, I end up contracting breast cancer, resulting in my tragic death. When I open my eyes again, I've returned to the first day I've gotten home after my grandparents' passing. Lucy is extremely sensitive, right? Well then, I'd like to see which one's the more superior weapon—her tears or my fists!

Every month on the 15th is the day I swap lives with Melody Foster. 18 years ago, a hospital mix-up places our IVF embryos in each other's mothers. After the truth comes out, my biological parents want their real daughter, and my adoptive parents want theirs. They arrange for Melody and me to rotate between the two homes on a monthly basis, switching every 15th. From then on, I become the burden neither family wants. In whichever home Melody stays, there are endless snacks and drinks, thousands of dollars in monthly allowance, and the sunny bedroom is always reserved for her. In whichever home I stay, there's nothing but plain meals and a windowless storage room. 18 years later, I find out I have kidney failure, and Melody turns out to be a compatible donor. My adoptive parents toss me a form to sign away my right to treatment. "We raised you, and that's more than enough. Go ask your real parents for money. You're not getting our daughter's kidney, so don't even think about it." My biological parents fall to their knees, begging. "We know we've failed you, but losing you we can live with. Melody is our whole world!" Just then, I get a call from the hospital. "Sorry, we mixed up the records again. The one with kidney failure is actually Melody." Everything clicks into place. I sell the jewelry my grandmother left me, buy a camera and a full set of gear. From now on, I'll be a lone traveler, roaming wherever the road takes me.

After watching my mother’s marriage fall apart disastrously, I somehow went back ten years into the past and ran into my mother’s younger self. My mother had asked me excitedly, “Zoe, after your dad’s undercover operation ended, did he give me a wedding? Like, was it churchy or more modern? Did we end up in that nice house with the big backyard?” I forced down the lump in my throat and answered her, “There was no wedding. You didn’t get a house either. As for Dad… he married someone else.” My mother was silent for a long time. I thought she did not believe me, so I grew anxious and said, “Mom, you need to leave him now. If you stay, your life will fall apart. “He has a daughter named Melody, who turned out to be my classmate. He was never an undercover agent. He’s actually the heir of Xanders Group in Harbor City. He’s been lying to you this whole time and pretending to be broke just to string you along. “Melody’s mom eventually found out about you. You lost your job and home. In the end, you fell into depression and took your own life.” I noticed my mother’s eyes welling up in tears. “Today’s Children’s Day, right? You probably saw Dad taking some woman and her daughter to a theme park, didn’t you? “Go talk to that woman. Ask her about it. Then, you’ll learn the truth.”

In our tenth year of marriage, Sean Whitmore cheated on me with Sonia Sutton. He brought his Sonia’ son and daughter to see me. He said he felt sorry for the children. They needed a father. Our daughter begged him to stay, but he refused to change his mind. I didn’t fight to keep him. I took our daughter and left, and I never remarried for fear that a stepfather might mistreat her. Years later, my daughter married a good man. My granddaughter was adorable too. I spent my days caring for her, and life was happy and peaceful. On my sixtieth birthday, my daughter and son-in-law said they were busy at work, and my granddaughter had a last-minute tutoring session. They promised to celebrate my birthday the next day. But that evening, I came across a video filmed nearby. In a luxurious private dining room at a hotel… My daughter, her husband, and their little girl stood with Sean and Sonia’ two children. All six of them gathered around the woman he left me for and sang her "Happy Birthday." My daughter even called her "Mommy Sonia."

During the awards portion of the annual charity gala, the host suddenly walked onto the stage holding the hands of ten children. “Tonight, we have one more very special honoree.” “She passed away after an accident, but before she died, she donated every viable organ in her body and saved the children standing beside me right now.” In the front row below the stage, the eldest son of the Sanders family, dressed in an expensive suit, let out a scornful laugh. “I wonder what idiot did that. She was already dead, and she still had to chase fame.” Beside him, Mrs. Sanders looked deeply distressed. “Her body isn’t even whole anymore. How is she supposed to rest in peace? Her parents are so cruel. How could they not stop it?” Mr. Sanders gently comforted his wife, then turned and instructed his secretary. “Once we confirm which family she belonged to, cancel every partnership we have with them from now on.” The host’s voice rang out again. “Next, please welcome the honoree’s parents to the stage.” “Chairman Sanders and his wife.”

On New Year's Eve, a crowd crush broke out, and I was carried into the field treatment tent along with Maya Bellamy, the underprivileged student my family had been sponsoring. My own brother, Derek Calder, the incident commander, glanced at me. My ribs were caved in, and I kept coughing up blood. Then he called every medic over to put ice on Maya's slightly twisted ankle. "Maya's dance final is coming up. Nothing can happen to that foot!" When I weakly begged him for help, he gave me a stern, self-righteous lecture. "I'm your brother. If I'm the first one to give you special treatment, what will all the injured people out there think of me? Act your age, and don't make trouble for me right now!" The pain had me on the verge of passing out. All I could do was grab my boyfriend, Ethan Kessler, when he rushed over. "Ethan, I can't breathe..." But he pried my hand off him, his face full of impatience. "You've had asthma since you were a kid, and you don't even carry your inhaler. How can you blame anyone else? "Maya was in the most dangerous part of the crowd, right in the middle. You were stuck out at the edge by the planters. How could you be hurt worse than she is? Why do you always have to compare yourself to her?" Then he carefully scooped Maya up in his arms and ran to the ambulance that had just arrived, without looking back. But he seemed to have forgotten that when the crowd went down, he was the one who shoved me into the surging mass of people, just to clear a safe spot for Maya. And my brother never noticed that the strange heaving of my chest meant my broken ribs had already pierced my organs.

Mom's hearing comes and goes. She never hears me when I tell her I want to buy a new pair of shoes because my old pair has a hole. But when my sister, Stella Woodson, mentions that she wants to eat a birthday cake, she immediately gives me some money and tells me to run through the rain to buy one. Only two shrimps are left on the table. I carefully ask if I can have one. The next second, Mom peels both shrimps and puts them on Stella's plate. She then turns to me with a confused expression, asking, "Did you say something, Luna? I didn't hear you." I hang my head in embarrassment and push the mashed potatoes around on my plate, mumbling that I didn't say anything. Later, Mom makes plans to take Stella to Destinyland to enjoy the night scenery. My body aches terribly. I carefully tug on Mom's sleeve and say, "I'm in a lot of pain, Mom." Mom gives me her usual response. "What did you say, Luna? I didn't hear you." She impatiently swats my hand away before I can get another word in, saying, "Stella and I are leaving now to handle some urgent business. Behave yourself while you're home alone."

The year my sister turned fifteen, my father, Grant Davis, became obsessed with holding auctions at home. Everything in the house, from a plate of meat to a turn with the washing machine, from school lunch money to after-school activity fees, had to be won by bidding with family credits. I worked odd jobs until I dropped, sleeping only three hours a night, and finally saved up a thick stack of family credits, the paper soft and warped from my sweat. All Melody had to do was sit on the couch and shed a few tears, and my father would stuff fistfuls of credits into her arms. "Girls deserve to be spoiled. Can't have Melody feeling left out." That day, the item up for auction was an old necklace that had belonged to my grandmother, Ruth Bennett. Eyes burning, I pushed everything I had onto the table. "Eight thousand." Melody tossed out ten thousand without a second thought, her voice sweet and wheedling. "This necklace would go perfectly with my new dress." I begged my father through tears. "This is the only thing Grandma ever left me. Please." My father slapped me so hard my ears rang and my vision blurred. "Highest bidder wins. That's the rule! You're too poor to win, so don't blame anyone else!" Melody snatched the necklace, gave it a look of disgust, and casually tossed it into the roaring fireplace. "Oops, the fire's getting low. This'll make good kindling." I threw myself at the fireplace. The back of my hand split open instantly from the heat, the skin blistering and peeling away. They left, slamming the door behind them, complaining that my screaming was bad luck in the house. Later, I couldn't stop thinking. If I put my own life on the auction block, how many credits would you bid?

The day my father's enemies kidnapped and tortured me, my family was celebrating my sister Isa's eighteenth birthday. The next day, she would be handed over to the Cammarata family, our rivals, to seal an alliance through marriage. My father is a Don with more enemies than he can count. When I was ten, the two families arranged a marriage alliance to keep the peace. If the two families ever went to war again, the one who'd been married off would be killed first to send a message. On the day they chose the bride, my sister grabbed the token first: a signet ring. From that day on, she was the one this family loved. My mother always said Isa was suffering in my place. So I had to give way to her in everything and protect her. Whatever my sister wanted, I had to hand it over. When we were little, an assassination attempt forced our car off the road. I clutched her to me during the crash and broke my own leg. When my mother arrived, she pulled Isa into her arms first, then turned on me. "Your sister's arm is all scraped up. Couldn't you have protected her better?" I pretended it didn't matter and went to the hospital alone. But I cried anyway while they set my leg. This time, when they kidnapped me, I dropped to my knees and begged for one call for help. I didn't hesitate for a second. I called my parents. My mother had already lost her patience. "Do you have to compete for attention even on your sister's birthday? After today, you can do whatever you want. I'm hanging up." But there wasn't going to be an after today, Mom. As I took my last breath while they tortured me, one thought filled my mind. If I died in my sister's place, would that finally make them happy?