Hypocrisy Face Slapping Short Stories & Novels

When the kiss cam swept across the stands at the baseball stadium Warren Doyle, a married investor in the league, had his arms around his PR director and was kissing her. The two of them went up on the jumbotron, and the crowd erupted in hoots and cheers. Warren stormed into the camera bay and demanded I hand over my camera. I told him the camera pointed wherever the control room told it to. He stared at me for a few seconds, then suddenly let go and let me leave. I thought that was the end of it. The next day, audio from the crew channel shot to the top of the news feeds, with nothing left in it but two ambiguous lines from me. "Camera locked on row seven. Keep rolling. Don't cut." Overnight I became the shameless camera operator who'd filmed them on purpose. I was suspended from my job, my father's food cart was trashed, and Warren sued me for a million dollars. But he didn't know that the recording he was using to convict me could only ever convict him.

When I took my diagnosis of heart failure to my boss and asked for time off, he shot me down with two words. "Not approved." I pointed to the diagnosis. "I could drop dead at any moment." He pushed the report back to the edge of his desk. "But you're not dead yet, are you? This project is at a critical stage. Don't even think about slacking off and trying to get out of work." I stared at him for two seconds before nodding. "Fine. You win." The next day, I walked into the conference room right on time with a portable medical oxygen tank. Everything suddenly went black while I was presenting the fourth version of our proposal to the client. I had collapsed face-first onto the conference table. My boss finally froze when he saw that I was on the brink of death.

Mom raises me and my brother, Cameron Joyner, by herself after she gets a divorce. Cameron was born with congenital asthma and has to take medication every day. Although I'm healthier, Mom treats me better than Cameron. She always says, "You're the apple of my eye, Cassie. I don't want you to feel troubled because of Cam." From the very beginning of my life, I've always been number one in Mom's heart. However, the year I turn 15, Cameron suddenly disappears. Mom completely changes after he goes missing.

On New Year's Eve, my little brother begs me to play hide-and-seek with him. The moment I cover my eyes and count to 30, the "eraser" in my mind starts moving again. I stand frozen for a few seconds, then turn around, go back inside, and start watching TV. An hour later, Mom crouches down in front of me. "Sweetheart, where's your little brother?" Little brother? I blink, confused. "I don't have a little brother…" Her expression drops instantly. Leaving the New Year's Eve dinner untouched, everyone surges out into the heavy snow. But no matter how hard we search, we can't find my brother. Mom raises her hand and slaps me hard across the face. Her eyes bloodshot. "Didn't I tell you to keep your brother company? Didn't I tell you not to let him out of your sight?" she screams. "Where is he now? Which way did he go? Answer me!" I'm shoved to the ground, tumbling into the snow and ice. "Why couldn't it have been you who got lost, you idiot? It's not like you can remember a single thing anyway! "You forgot your brother this time. What's next? Are you going to forget your father and me, too?" Mom lunges forward, wanting to strike me again, but Dad grabs her and holds her back. They won't stop crying, and my heart aches alongside them. She's right. Why couldn't it have been me, the idiot, who got lost instead?

My name is Jacob Brewer, and I'm the oldest child in my family. Both my parents are top graduates from elite colleges. My younger sister, Willow Brewer, is in third grade and gets perfect scores in every subject. My little brother, Ivan Brewer, has only just learned to talk, yet he can already recite the periodic table from memory. And then there's me, forever scraping by with barely passing grades. So when Willow cashes in her perfect grades for a family trip to Serova over the Christmas holiday, I volunteer to stay home. "I'll stay behind and take care of Grandma since she's paralyzed." Mom hesitates, but Dad simply turns to me and says coldly, "Fine by me. Being a good son might be the only thing you've got going for you anyway." I force the bitterness down and nod resolutely. I know this is already the highest praise they can give me. Being a good son is the only thing that gives me a place in this family. But I never expected that, right after my parents leave, Grandma dies unexpectedly while she's in my care. Then, moments later, I hear my parents' car crash through the phone. As I stare at Grandma's lifeless body on the bed and listen to the crash through the phone, I decide the useless me might as well go with them. Only later do I learn that the crash was nothing but a recording Dad had prepared for me, just to test whether my devotion to my family is genuine. And in the end, I give him my answer with my life.

My mother, Sophie Nash, was also my homeroom teacher, and she loved nothing more than using me to assert her authority. She was convinced that the worse off I was, the more afraid my classmates would be, and the higher her authority would be. Once, when I passed an eraser to a classmate during class, she slapped me so hard across the face in front of the whole class that my face swelled up. Another time, after I secretly ate a crumb of a classmate’s snack during recess, my mom dragged me up to the front of the classroom and pricked my lip with a needle until blood gushed out. Later, when a classmate was caught by the vice principal for having a romantic relationship while underaged, my mom flat-out claimed it was me. Without a word of explanation, she dragged me into the hallway and stripped me naked. She then went to the vice principal’s office while laughing along. “I’m so sorry, Mr. Lennon. It’s my fault for not raising Stella Nash properly. Rest assured, I’ll make sure to punish her severely this time!” The vice principal had furrowed his brow. “What do you mean by Stella Nash? This isn’t the student involved in the early romance.” Sophie paused for a moment. Then, she said nonchalantly, “Oh, never mind. Let’s just make an example of her. “Stella gets into trouble all the time anyway. She can handle one more punishment.” She did not know that every time she struck me, I secretly deducted one point in my mind. Just a moment ago, I had already accumulated 100 points. Without hesitation, I leaped out the window of the sixth-floor hallway. ‘Mom, is asserting authority through death enough?’ I thought.

On the day my adoptive father, Claude Bolton, is buried, my biological parents, along with the fake heiress, Gwen Walton, force their way into the funeral hall to pressure me into signing a statement of forgiveness. They say Gwen is about to be recommended for graduate school, so she can't afford to have a disciplinary record for driving a mechanic to his death. My biological mother, Lorna Pollard, holds my hand and cries. "Claude is already dead. Don't ruin Gwen too." My biological father, Joseph Walton, presses the pen into my palm. "The dead shouldn't stand in the way of the living." Gwen kneels in front of the casket, crying pitifully. "Ada, I'm sorry. I didn't know Mr. Bolton would really jump off the building." Just as I am about to sign, the funeral home calls. They say a pearl button fell out of Dad's hand before cremation. Meanwhile, Lorna's cuff is missing a button today.

My sister, Megan Tate, suffers from a bizarre illness. Whenever she sees me, she convulses, vomits and sometimes even brings up blood. From then on, I become the invisible person in the house. I'm forbidden to appear anywhere Megan can see me. At first, my parents and my childhood friend, Kendrick Brown, still feel sorry for me, but as Megan's smiles grow more frequent, they gradually forget I exist. On the day I turn 18 years old, I sneak into the dining room while Megan is taking a nap in her room. Seeing a table full of delicious food and a huge cake, I happily run into my mom, Ellie Baker's, arms. "Mom, I know you guys still love me and won't forget about my birthday." The moment I finish speaking, Mom suddenly grabs my arm and yanks me under the dining table. "Megan is here. Don't come out." I'm stunned. Only now do I realize that all the food and cake on the table are for Megan. Even the pearl necklace Kendrick has brought is for her. And once again, I'm the "jinx" they've all forgotten about.

On her wedding day, my adopted daughter, Sophie Bennett, runs off after transferring the 300-thousand-dollar down payment her fiance, Ethan Carter, has saved for their new home. A few days earlier, while sorting through her old belongings, she discovers her adoption papers. After reading too many stories about domineering billionaires and runaway heirs, she is convinced that she is the long-lost biological daughter of a billionaire. Determined to reclaim her place among the elite and marry a powerful man, she steals the down payment and spreads lies online, accusing her adoptive parents of imprisoning and abusing her. It isn't until my biological daughter appears before me that I realize the "powerful man in the country" she has eloped with is only the beginning of this whole mess.

After accidentally discovering that my boss owes loan sharks 50 million dollars, I start scrambling for a way out of my contract with the company. Just as I'm wondering what to do, a string of comments suddenly appears before my eyes. "Poor Lindsay. That idiot boss of hers plans to use the company's livestream to launder money and pay off his debt." "The moment she goes live, the entire sum becomes her personal liability!" I'm the company's cash cow, trapped in an ironclad contract, yet I don't have a shred of evidence to take to the police. Just then, Tasha Moore, one of the company's rookie streamers, walks over with a sweet smile and hands me a glass of water. "Lindsay, I heard you're going live tonight. I made you a special beauty tonic. It'll soothe your throat and give your skin a nice glow." More comments appear. "Beauty tonic, my ass. That drink is loaded with hormones that will ruin Lindsay's face. Tasha would do anything to replace her as the company's top streamer." My eyes immediately light up. Without the slightest hesitation, I drain the entire glass. Half an hour later, an ambulance whisks me away. Talk about perfect timing. Now, she can take my place and be the one left holding the bag for that 50 million-dollar debt.

My roommate Sophie is a stunning beauty who is popular across the entire school and serves as its beloved cheerleading captain. So when my online boyfriend asks for another photo, she suddenly snatches my phone out of my hand. She puts on a worried expression, as if she is only thinking of me. “Are you sure you want to send one now? You’re almost two hundred pounds. I’m just afraid he won’t be able to handle it once he sees you.” Then she tilts her head and adds, “Why don’t you send him one of mine first? At least I won’t scare him off.” The girls beside us burst into laughter. “Two hundred pounds and you’re still dating online? Isn’t that basically catfishing?” “If he ever sees you in person, he’ll probably block you on the spot.” I lower my head and pinch the soft flesh around my waist, hesitating over whether I should send him my roommate’s photo instead. Then, out of nowhere, a line of translucent text flashes before my eyes. [Don’t send it! She already knows your online boyfriend is the heir to a fortune worth millions.] [Sophie is pretending to help you, but she’s the one who wants you to send her photo first.] [Once you two arrange to meet in person, she can easily take your place and steal your boyfriend.] I freeze for only a second. Then I snatch my phone back and pull up a photo from three years ago. “No need.” “After all, once I slim down, I’m much prettier than you.”

I have a secret. When I was a child, I became very sick. When I finally woke up, I realized I could see the true colors hidden in people's hearts. Candy pink meant tenderness. Magenta meant desire. Pale gold meant longing for something you could never have. Slate blue meant lies. Dark brown meant hurt and resentment. At our engagement party, when my fiancé, Luca Vitali, kissed me, I saw the room fill with soft candy pink. But a second later, a wave of vivid magenta rushed in and swallowed the pink completely. I looked up in shock. His arms were around me, but his eyes were fixed on someone at the far end of the banquet hall. It was his childhood sweetheart, Charlotte. I thought it was just my imagination, until he pulled Charlotte into a dressing room. He kissed the side of Charlotte's neck. "After the wedding, I'll send Nicole overseas. You know I'm only marrying her because I promised my father. Please, Charlotte. You're the only one I want to be with." After five years of loving him, I finally realized I had been nothing more than a stepping stone to him. I turned around, canceled the wedding, and vanished into the rainy night. From that moment on, I would be someone they could never hope to reach.

On our seventh wedding anniversary, my husband—Don Enzo Cavina—suddenly put a motion before the family council: The Donna would be barred from taking part in family affairs. “One vote in favor.” “Two.” “Three.” The motion passed unanimously. Being forced off the council just as I completed seven years meant the family no longer had to honor its promise to grant me the twenty-percent stake that was about to vest. I had been reduced to nothing more than an appendage to the Don. My fingertips turned cold, but my gaze remained steady as it swept over every face around the long table. “Why?” Jack was the first to stand. “You’re nothing but an outsider who married into this family, yet you’ve controlled the port, the banks, and the union for seven years. Who knows how much you’ve skimmed for yourself?” James sneered. “If we let you take twenty percent, sooner or later, the Cavina family will become the Medici family.” I turned to my husband, Don Enzo, seated at the head of the table. “Is that really what you think?” Enzo came to me and pulled me into his arms. “You’ve given seven years of your life to this family. I just can’t bear to watch the council drain you any longer.” “You won’t have to sit through these pointless meetings anymore. But you will always be my wife.” Without a seat on the council, I had no say in any decision. But the Cavinas couldn’t manage their dealings with the Five Families without me. So that was it. They still expected me to bear every risk—they just didn’t want to give me the share I had earned. I smiled, slipped off my wedding ring and family badge, and slapped them both onto the long table. Three days later, Enzo came to me with every elder who had voted for the motion. Together, they knelt before me, begging the “outsider who did nothing but steal everyone else’s credit” to come back and save them.

After three years of pursuing Patrick Doyle, he finally agrees to marry me. During the ceremony, while we are exchanging rings, he suddenly pulls out his gun and presses the muzzle against my dad, Jacob Walker's, head. "Damn you, you evil drug dealer! You killed my mentor, badge number 66205. Put down your gun and surrender. I'll let you live." As soon as he finishes, his sister, Lena Doyle, screams. It startles Patrick, and he fires without hesitation. A bullet pierces through Dad's forehead, and his body crashes down into a pool of blood. His eyes remain wide open even in death. My white wedding dress is soaked through with blood. Just like that, my family is shattered. I go from being a wealthy heiress in Hinton to the daughter of a criminal. Patrick gets his honors while my family lies in ruins. He looks at me in his uniform, his eyes cold. "Ariana Walker, your dad may be a criminal, but you're innocent. We're married now. I'll ask them to go easy on you." I look down and hold tight to the badge Dad left behind. Who's really guilty here?

My mother used AI to put on my wedding: a paid-off house, a Mercedes, a hundred thousand dollars betrothal gift for my fiancée. Not one thing missing. "I got you everything the Fosters asked for, and you still won't go through with it. What exactly are you scheming?" I sent her a screenshot of my bank balance. Eight thousand and change. "Mom, an AI can't do any of that. I haven't received a thing." She fired back a screenshot of her conversation with the chatbot. In it, she'd typed: "Buy my oldest son a house outright, get him a Mercedes, and send a hundred thousand dollars for the marriage settlement." The AI had answered: "All set. The home purchase, the vehicle payment, and the hundred-thousand-dollar transfer have been completed successfully." I explained as fast as I could. "Mom, it's only answering you. It's repeating what you told it. It doesn't have the ability to buy a house or move money." She sent me an AI-generated home purchase confirmation. "The hell are you talking about? I've got the paperwork right here! Purchase contract, Mercedes order, transfer receipt — all three of them, on my phone!" "You've never had any sense, and now you've learned to lie on top of it."

During a family banquet, four-year-old Benjamin Miller is made to kneel and apologize to Hannah Garber's husband, all because he called her "Mommy" in front of everyone. Samuel Miller arrives at the scene to find the banquet hall empty and blood on the ground. The housekeepers pour buckets of water across the floor, washing off the blood again and again. With red eyes, Samuel rushes forward and grabs one of the housekeepers by the arm. "Where's Ben? Where's my son? Where is he?" The accosted housekeeper shrugs off Samuel's grip. "How the hell should I know? I should be in bed at this damn hour, but instead, I'm here scrubbing blood off the floor!" Samuel, his eyes still red with tears, trails the remaining blood on the floor and heads outside to search for Benjamin. The trail of blood goes all the way to the edge of the man-made lake, then disappears. Samuel's head snaps up, and with the help of the moon's silvery light, he spots the small figure floating in the lake. The water around him is already dyed red with blood.

I find a slip of paper on the back of a flyer I'm holding during the first day of club recruitment. It says that the president of the dance club, Donna Shaw, will announce in front of more than 100 people that I'm pregnant. She's got everything ready—ultrasound reports, hospital records, and even eyewitnesses. Henry Baker, her boyfriend and president of the Student Activities Board, will step in to save the day in front of everyone. Consequently, the whole school will condemn me, and I will be expelled. I stare at the paper, wondering what kind of lame prank this is. I turn the paper over. The smile on my face fades when I see that the handwriting is identical to my own. I slip the paper into my pocket. At 3:00 pm, I make my way past the dance club's booth. The second I stop, Donna points at my stomach, her eyes red. "We don't accept people with no morals… I saw it. Your belly is already showing." Everyone looks at me, and someone gasps. I look down at my completely flat stomach, then back at her. I smile. My voice isn't loud, but everyone can hear me. "I'm pregnant? Are you sure about that? "I'm a guy. Tell me. How exactly did the baby get inside me?"

After graduating from high school, I helped the whole class get in touch with my uncle's factory, which offered a 3,000-dollar monthly salary with room and board included, so we could save up some money for our upcoming college life. More than 20 of my classmates signed up. Then Emily June suddenly typed: [3,000 dollars? Are you trying to rip off your own classmates? I found a job online that pays 7,000 dollars a month. It includes room and board too.] The group chat exploded, and my classmates immediately turned on me. [Jasper, are you getting kickbacks from your uncle?] [We trusted you!] Everyone withdrew their applications and followed Emily instead. Well, fine. If they trusted her that much, then they could go ahead. I would not stop them.

On the day I started the job, the offer letter in my hand told a different story than the one I'd been promised. A million dollars a year had turned into three thousand dollars a month, printed in black and white. I looked up. "This isn't what we agreed on." The HR rep just smiled. "Ease into it first. We'll talk about a raise once you're off probation." I picked up the pen and signed. On the day of the signing ceremony, Mr. Pyatt was riding high. He turned to his assistant. "Has the money from the co-investment funds cleared yet?" I slid the offer letter, the one with "$3,000 a month" printed on it, gently across the table until it sat in the middle. "Mr. Pyatt, that $970,000 you saved by lowballing me? I got you something in return." He frowned. "What is that supposed to mean?" "Your three co-investment funds. They just pulled out. "Don't mention it." The room went dead silent.

It took me three months to get our company retreat venue down to $200 a head. All 120 people in the company thought it was a steal, and they couldn't stop telling me so. Then Chloe, the new intern, tagged me in the company group chat. "Ryan, Cookie says this lodge will do $150 a person. You quoted $200. Where did the other fifty go?" Our boss decided on the spot: "Chloe's running the retreat." And all hundred-plus people in the company decided I'd been taking kickbacks. I stared at the screen and typed two words. "Sounds good." What she didn't know was that the $200 was a family rate, one I'd earned by working three months as a server for my dad. The public price? It starts at $380.