Plot Twists Short Stories & Hypocrisy Family Emotions Novels

My younger sister, Amelia Reinhart, is in her freshman year in high school, and she has severe asthma. She can't handle the wind and rain, nor can she stand the smell of car leather. Our parents are working three shifts at the factory, so they don't have time to send her to school and pick her up when classes are over. So, I spend 40,000 dollars on a minibus with heating, and I also hire a driver, Gary Brown, to handle Amelia's school commutes. I feel bad for Amelia, so I double Gary's pay and tell him to take extra care of her. But one stormy day, as I drive past the school intersection, I see Amelia completely drenched, coughing as she wades through the mud with great effort…

The day I was discharged from the hospital after giving birth, my mother-in-law, Patricia Whitmore, kept pointing at the baby in my arms and humiliating me the whole way home. "Genevieve, just look at that pathetic thing in your arms. I doubt he'll live very long." I shot back angrily, "Patricia, how could you say that? The doctor said the baby is perfectly healthy!" Patricia curled her lip into a sneer. "You're so ignorant. Here you are, yelling at me when I'm only telling you the truth out of the kindness of my heart." I didn't want to waste my energy arguing with her, so I turned away with the baby in my arms and stared out the window. It wasn't until we got home that my seven-year-old daughter told me something. She told me that she'd seen Patricia secretly switch my perfectly healthy son with the child of my husband's childhood sweetheart, Evelyn Reed. The same child who was suffering from a congenital heart defect. That was when I finally understood why Patricia had been humiliating us. She was acting that way because she thought she had already gotten what she wanted. Unfortunately, she never expected that Nina had already switched her little brother back while they weren't paying attention.

At my mom's funeral, my lecturer wife, Vivian Carter, decides to have a rendezvous with her student, Noah Myers, with ten packs of condoms in her bag. Once they are done with their passionate lovemaking, Noah uploads a photo to his social media feed. It features a red-faced Vivian lying on his bed. Meanwhile, the clothes of mourning that she's worn to the funeral are strewn all over the floor. The caption reads, "The only who's not loved is the actual homewrecker here. My relationship has finally borne fruit!" His feed goes wild with comments. Everyone mocks me for being a shameless simp for Vivian, and that I've been ruining Noah's relationship with her this whole time. My mentor, Avery Sanders, is sick with worry. But I, on the other hand, merely brew myself a cup of coffee. Then, I say lightly, "Since he likes uploading his intimate photos that much, I might as well upload photos of his and Vivian's bastard child as well as their paternity tests. Here's the caption—I, the legal husband, am now defending my pride as a married man. "Now, I'd like to see if Noah and Vivian are capable of bearing the consequences of pissing off my prestigious and wealthy 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.

Just because I refused to help my nephew, Albert Wesley, pay for his wedding, my very own sister took me to court. When my sister, Jocelyn Guthrie, appeared in court, she wept as she spoke. "I worked myself to the bone, taking every job I could find just to support your college education. I endured endless humiliation, and it even ruined my health." "You have an annual income of a million dollars, yet you won't even spare a fraction to help me! You're even talking about cutting ties with me? Do you even have a conscience?" Seeing me sitting in the defendant's seat, unmoved, she trembled as she revealed the grotesque scars covering her body, even pulling out a disability certificate. "I was even injured because of you. I was struck by a falling object at a construction site, leaving my leg permanently disabled. Now... I can't support my son anymore, so I'm asking you to repay the tuition. Isn't that the least you should do?" My mother, Samantha Lawrence, and my brother, Andrew Guthrie, nodded along, backing Jocelyn up, condemning me for my ingratitude. The entire courtroom erupted in anger, voices rising against me. "What a monster! Her education has gone to the dogs!" "Don't insult dogs! She's even worse than an animal!" "Three hundred thousand dollars is too little! Your Honor, she must repay it with interest!" Watching their righteous fury, I could only feel a bitter sense of irony. She claimed she had sacrificed everything to put me through four years of university. But the truth was... I had never even been to college at all.

My dad, who has gotten remarried and cut off contact with me years ago, suddenly sends me one dollar via Venmo, saying he wants to borrow my new car for two days. Thinking he wants to mend our relationship, I remind him to take good care of it before handing over the keys. That very afternoon, I stumble across a livestream of my half-brother street racing. The car he's driving is unmistakably my brand-new vehicle. In the livestream, the car is covered in crude graffiti, and the interior is a mess. I immediately take a cab over to stop my half-brother, only to be humiliated by him during our first meeting. "Who the hell are you? My dad says I'm his only son!" Only then do I realize that I no longer have a place in my dad's life. What they don't know is that the car is a gift from my CEO girlfriend. And she never lets anyone bully the people she cares about.

After my wife, Estelle Parks, gave birth, I hired a live-in nanny to take care of her and the baby. I never expected that paying top dollar would bring home someone who acted like she owned the place. I had to cook every meal after work and mop the floors before bed. She even helped herself to the pricey bone broth I had bought for Estelle. I got so fed up that I wanted to fire her, but Estelle just shrugged it off. "As long as she takes care of the baby, what does it matter if she rests or eats a little? It's not like we're struggling." And yet, Estelle had always hated people who took advantage of others.

My mother-in-law Mindy was fanatically superstitious. When my daughter Amy came down with a high fever, she followed an old wives' tale and wrapped the child in three thick quilts, causing her to nearly suffer permanent brain damage from overheating. I immediately rushed Amy to the hospital and repeatedly warned Mindy not to feed her anything strange. The moment I stepped away to pay the medical bill, she forced "holy water" she'd gotten from a suspicious temple down my daughter's throat when she'd only been barely saved from death's door. My daughter had an adverse reaction, and she suffocated to death on the spot. Devastated, I tried to call the police to arrest Mindy, but my husband Sam insisted she had only meant well, and had told me to be more understanding. "Mom was just desperate to save her! You don't have to take it this far, we could always have another child!" Because of this incident, I ended up being diagnosed with severe depression. Mindy, however, was insistent that I'd been possessed by an evil spirit and called on an exorcist to perform a purging ritual on me, inflicting wounds all over my body with a whip. By the time I was barely clinging to life, my husband came home from work. When I tried to beg him to save me, he forced me down by my limbs. "Listen to Mom. Once the evil spirit is exorcised, you'll be all better." And so, I was beaten to death. When I came to, I returned to the day Mindy tried to "help" my daughter once more. This time, I would make sure they had a taste of their own medicine.

The day my mom was beaten up for being a mistress, I slammed the family crest into my dad’s face. I had been studying abroad, and on my return flight, I came across a video. The title read, [Richest Family’s Heirs Defend Their Mom and Beat Up Mistress.] In the video, my mother was wearing coarse linen clothes while my brothers surrounded her. They were punching and kicking her. They even tore her clothes and cussed her out as a shameless mistress. Her eyes were teary as she desperately tried to explain. However, she was only met with mocking laughter. A stranger in haute couture stood shielded behind them, and she sweetly said, “Alright, I know you’re doing this for me, but we don’t need to waste our time on ungrateful people.” The surrounding guests showered her with birthday wishes and praised her for her graciousness. “This is the grace befitting Mrs. Roth! Do some people really not own a mirror at home?” “A mistress dares to call herself Mrs. Roth? Doesn’t she know the entire Roth family was built on her assets? Which part of her looks like a lady?” Hearing them call her “Mrs. Roth,” I clenched my phone, and the screen reflected my icy expression. I had only been away from home for three years. How did I not know that I had acquired such a despicable “mother”?

My company has dispatched me on a one-week business trip to another city. When the trip is over, I drive home in a hurry just so I can celebrate my mother-in-law, Marianne Jones' birthday with her. But when I'm waiting for the traffic light to turn green, rows of live comments suddenly appear right in front of my eyes. "Do not go home no matter what! If you do, that crime will be pinned on you!" "The moment you step through the front door, Marianne will jump off the building!" "Your fingerprints are all over Marianne's body! When the time comes, you won't be able to defend yourself at all, and you'll end up receiving a death sentence! After your husband receives a hefty insurance payout, he and your best friend, Kathie Wilbury, will live a luxurious and happy life together!" I'm stunned by the information. But a few seconds later, I decide to believe the live comments. In that case, I might as well make a huge gamble. As soon as the green light is on, I start the car and stomp down on the gas pedal. Then, I veer my car toward the concrete barrier on the roadside and crash into it.

Every year on the day the SAT results are released, I spend the entire day kneeling at my mother's grave. Three years ago, I fell for a phone scam and transferred all of the tuition money she had saved through years of diligently saving up to the scammers. Unable to take the sudden blow, Mom suffered a fatal heart attack. After she passed away, debt collectors began showing up at our door. Only then did I learn how much money she had borrowed just to keep us afloat. I have no choice but to give up my admission offer from Jaloria College. Working five jobs a day, I finally repay every last debt today. On the subway ride to the cemetery, I suddenly come across a streamer whose voice sounds strangely familiar. She blabs, "How do you teach kids the value of earning money? In my experience, extreme circumstances work the best. I deliberately created a scenario for my daughter where both her parents are supposedly dead, and she inherited a million dollars of my debt. "She's almost finished paying it off now. Tell me, can your kids do that?" Someone in the comments section questions her methods, saying it is too insane. She only grows more smug as she gloats, "So what? She's the one who was stupid enough to get scammed. I was just teaching her a lesson. As a reward for doing so well, I'll tell her the truth on her birthday five days from now. Any sensible child will understand their parents' good intentions." As she gestures animatedly, a crescent-shaped birthmark on her wrist comes into view. It's identical to my mom's. My hands tremble as I create a new account. I switch the profile picture to a man in a suit and change the background to luxury cars and mansions. Then, I send her an expensive virtual gift. While she excitedly thanks me, I leave a comment. "You're absolutely right, ma'am. If only I had a smart woman like you around to help me raise my children."

My mother is hospitalized due to a terminal illness. She's in urgent need of a kidney transplant to save her life. I'm the only one who can perform the surgery, but I give the kidney to a stranger. My father and husband get on their knees before me on the day of the surgery. They beg me to save my mother. However, I shrug and say, "I can't do anything about this. A life is a life, regardless of who the person is. This is what she gets for coming late—death is waiting for her."

My tenth lawsuit against Dad fails again after the case goes to trial. A reporter, Kieran Wilcox, approaches me and asks, "Why do you keep filing lawsuits against your father when he's collecting trash to pay your school fees?" I look up at him and ask, "Can you secretly film Dad for ten days? I'll tell you the truth if you do." However, I come under fire after Kieran uploads the video of him following Dad around and filming him. I'm bombarded with endless criticism to the point that my name appears on the top trending chart.

I'm at a job interview at a major company. One of the interviewers is my father, Edgar Booker, whom I haven't seen in ten years. He wears a sharp suit and carries himself with an imposing presence. When he sweeps his indifferent gaze over me, he pauses for a rare moment. After the interview ends, the HR manager, Jesse Dorsey, pulls me aside. "You're Mr. Booker's son, right? He says you can start next week." I smile faintly and slowly tear up the offer letter. "No, thanks. I don't want to work with a murderer."

Kyson Hale, the regimental commander, finally agrees to let me live with him on the military base. But in return, our son isn't allowed to address him as "dad". Kyson and I have been secretly married for eight years. I've taken care of his parents in the countryside for that long as well. After the death of his parents, my son, Darryl Hale, and I request Kyson to let us live with him on the military base. He agrees to our requests, but he has a condition of his own. "Once you've reached the military base, you shall declare to everyone else that you're just my relatives from the countryside." Only then do I realize that Kyson has another family of his own in the military. Some time later, I leave the army with Darryl without looking back. But Kyson, who's always been cold and distant, is alarmed by our disappearance.

Ever since I was little, my mother, Cynthia, used me as a living cautionary tale whenever she wanted to teach my older brother, Oliver, a lesson. When Oliver bullied a kid at school, she made me shave my head and pick up trash so he could see what it was like to be humiliated and laughed at. When Oliver stole an action camera from an outdoor gear store, she made me kneel in the snow and apologize to the manager so he'd learn what shame felt like. Lately, Oliver had become obsessed with extreme sports and started messing with pills from who-knows-where. To make the lesson stick, Mom secretly mixed something that would make me throw up and a muscle relaxant into the vitamin capsules I took after breakfast every day. She figured a dose that small would only make me throw up and give me diarrhea, just enough to scare my brother. But I had a bad cold and had already taken cold medicine. The combination of drugs soon left me struggling to breathe. I collapsed on the rug, convulsing. Dad rushed me to the ER, but on the way, we hit a police checkpoint. He'd already passed the breathalyzer when Mom shouted at the officers, "You need to check him again! He's on sedatives. How did you miss that?" She pointed at me in the back seat, my face already turning blue, then jerked her chin toward Oliver. "See that? Are you ever going to swallow random pills people give you again?" Oliver burst into tears and swore he'd never touch those pills again. Only then did Mom look satisfied. What she didn't notice was that her living cautionary tale could barely lift a hand. Mom, you're always complaining that Oliver never learns his lesson. Maybe losing me will finally teach him the lesson you've been trying so hard to drill into him. Would that make you happy?

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.”

My sister Iris almost died from anemia. The day she was hospitalized, my whole family started blaming me. I'd been frail since birth, so Mom and Dad had always poured all their attention into me. The new school supplies were mine, the new clothes were mine, and even on the birthdays we shared, the cream and chocolate part of the cake always went to me first. I used to hear Iris crying at night. But whenever I tried to comfort her, she just shoved me away. On my twelfth birthday, I came home from school with a perfect score on my test, beaming as I pushed the door open. Mom and Dad's eyes were red, and they looked at me as if I'd done something terrible. “Why can't you ever be nicer to Iris? We give you everything, and you should be thinking about her too.” “The doctor said her health problems are all because of how she feels.” “You're so spoiled, so selfish.” I lowered my head. They didn't know that I was frail because I'd made a deal to take Iris's death for her. Tomorrow, I was going to be erased.

I'm adopted by my parents. They are very nice to me—so nice that they keep praying for my health and happiness before my bedtime every night. Later on, Mom is pregnant with a baby. I hide under my blanket and spend the night crying. Then, I secretly pack the tiny suitcase I've brought with me. But my parents don't send me away. Instead, they treat me even nicer. On the day my little sister, Freya Walker, gets born, Mom takes my hand and pats me gently on the head. "You're an older brother now. That's why you have a little sister to be with you." Dad lifts me over his head while spinning me in circles happily. "You really are our lucky charm, Ash! You'll always be our beloved darling!" Finally, I don't have to keep worrying about getting kicked out. From that day onward, I really think that I've become a part of the family. That is, until Freya smashes my favorite toy car model one day. I'm so angry that I smack her on the spot. She stumbles away from me, soon plopping to the floor. At first, she's stunned for a few moments, only to start bawling immediately after. Mom loses her mind instantly. She shoves me away before scooping Freya into her arms and keep asking her if she's hurt. Dad rushes over and starts strangling me immediately with frighteningly bloodshot eyes. "We've kept you around for so many years, and yet you have the gall to bully Freya? Believe me when I say I'm definitely sending you back to—"

When I heard my younger brother was bringing his girlfriend home, I took annual leave, bought gifts, and flew back for the occasion. The moment I arrived, I found my luggage dumped carelessly outside the front door. My parents looked surprised to see me, but quickly recovered. "Ryan's girlfriend only wants to marry an only child, so we've been telling people Ryan has no siblings. You need to stay somewhere else for now and introduce yourself as a distant cousin from now on. "Don't blame us. Everything in this family will belong to your brother eventually. A daughter leaves when she marries." As they spoke, Ryan tossed the last of my belongings outside as though they were trash. "Finally. All that junk was an eyesore." My fingers slowly tightened around my purse, which still held the heavy gold bracelet I had bought as a welcome gift. Fine. Since I was only a distant cousin, they could stop living in my house. I turned around and pulled out my phone. "Hello. I'd like to sell the house in Maple Gardens. List it twenty thousand below market."