เรื่องสั้นและนิยายในฉาก Hypocrisy Feel-Good Story

At my wedding, a video of my fiancé cheating was exposed. I didn't make a scene; just turned around and walked away, left him to clean up the mess himself. I went back to my room and kissed my younger boyfriend. We were halfway through when we got interrupted. My fiancé stormed in, face red with shame and rage. "Is this really the time? All you can think about is kissing?" I smacked my lips, still savoring the moment. "Weren't you the one who introduced us?"

On the day I was promoted to department head, I invited my parents on a trip during the Independence Day holiday. However, my mother invited my older sister, Anna Smith, and her entire family. She even posted about it on her social media. [My eldest daughter is so filial. The first thing she does after getting her salary is to invite me on a trip.] Anna replied: [It's only right to be filial to your parents.] Our relatives all praised Anna and even sent messages in the family chat group, telling me to learn from her. I silently looked at my mother's post on social media and canceled the supplementary card I gave her. This time, I wanted to see how they kept up that loving mother and dutiful child act.

The girl who had bullied me for three years suddenly invited me to dinner. She called me her "old friend" every other sentence, sounding closer to me than a real sister would. Half an hour into the meal, I finally understood what she was after. She wanted to open a store in the same mall as my shop, and she wanted me to get a relative of mine to help her negotiate the rent. I smiled and shook my head. I told her that mall units were hard to make work, since the management was a headache and the rent was steep, and that she would be better off looking at a street-front space. What she did not know was that I had watched that unit since I was a little girl. In 20 years, more than a dozen stores had moved in, and not a single one had lasted a full year.

I am an orphan who was adopted, yet I live like a king in my house. While my older brother, Eric Jones, sleeps in the attic, which is freezing in the winter and sweltering in the summer, I get the nicest bedroom, the south-facing one with the best sunlight. Eric wears worn-out clothes from the flea market, the kind sold by the pound. As for me, I get new clothes from the mall every year. Some still have the tags on. Eric starts working at a construction site right after high school. As he works three shifts a day, his hands are covered in calluses. I, on the other hand, attend the best private high school in the city, where one year's tuition costs as much as two years of his wages. My adoptive mother, Dolores Bender, looks over my straight-A report card, wipes away her tears, and says, "Even if I have to sell everything we own, I'm putting you through college." Whenever relatives come over, they tell me how lucky I am to have been taken in by the kindest family on earth. That's what I've always believed, too, right up until Thanksgiving, when Eric had too much to drink.

At the nurses' station, the charge nurse held up a form and addressed the room. "Our department has one nomination spot for the Regional Nurse of the Year award. The winner gets a 50,000-dollar bonus. "Who wants to apply?" The moment the words left her mouth, every head in the room turned toward Whitney Farris. She was the prettiest nurse in the department and held a bachelor's degree. Everyone knew her family had it rough. Her father had passed away years ago, her mother relied on daily medication, and she still supported a younger brother at home. That form had clearly been saved for her. Whitney's eyes reddened as she gently pushed the form back. "Ma'am, I know my family's situation isn't great, but I can earn my own money. There are plenty of people who need this more than I do. Please give the spot to someone who really needs it. "There are so many of us in this department. Whoever you think has it the hardest, just give it to them. I could never bring myself to ask for something like this." She spoke barely above a whisper, her back perfectly straight, as though she were carrying every unfair thing that had ever happened to her and still refused to bend. The nurses around her were already moved by the speech, calling her brave, saying she had more dignity than anyone they knew. Only I saw the lines of floating text drifting through the air above her. [Whitney, stop playing hard to get! If you push that form away, someone else will really take the chance!] [This isn't some ordinary award! The hospital director personally oversees this Young Talent Initiative! You'll be getting a 50,000-dollar bonus plus a permanent position, and a three-year fellowship at Westgate Medical Center! Come back from that and you're next in line for charge nurse!] [She wants it so badly. She just loves the feeling of everyone rallying around her, begging her to accept. This chance could change her entire life!] My eyes locked on those words. [Change her entire life.] My fingers curled tighter, one knuckle at a time. My father's chemotherapy bills were 30,000 dollars overdue. My sister's tuition still had not been paid, and there were only 2,000 dollars left in my account. This award was the only lifeline I had. The charge nurse was about to take the form back when I stepped forward. "Ma'am, since Whitney doesn't want to apply, could I try for the spot instead?" Whitney turned to look at me, and the smile on her face froze solid.

On the day we were supposed to get our marriage license, Michael Robertson ghosted. I sat outside the County Clerk's Office for hours. Instead of him, I got a pic from his secretary, Kallie Clunt. She was in his lap, arms wrapped around him, making out like it was the hottest scene in a drama. [Sorry, Elsa. Michael said he had to comfort my broken heart. You don't mind, do you?] When I asked him about it, he just looked annoyed. "She gave me blood once. What's the big deal if I hang out with her? Can't you be a little more understanding?" My stomach dropped. I turned away and called his older brother. "Leon, do you still want to marry me?"

The year the Lawson family was on the edge of bankruptcy, my father made a deal with Rory Lawson and arranged for me to marry him. I didn't know he already had a fiancée, who was also his childhood sweetheart. Later, when my father became embroiled in a scandal and the company faced collapse, Rory brought her home, promising her the grand wedding she deserved. I didn't cry or make a scene. I just quietly packed my bags. Rory sneered, "Don't pull that hard-to-get act. You think you're still the pampered heiress?" Unknown to him, I had the divorce agreement he signed while drunk. In seven days, I'd be leaving the country with my father.

My brother, Graham Hart, was the villainous second male lead in a romance novel. After the female lead, Celeste Rodgers, faked her death, he spent every day thinking of ways to die for her. But before he could follow through, he got a call from my kindergarten teacher, Carly Rocha. "Are you Mila Hart's brother? Please come to the school. She keeps climbing into the aquarium and pretending to be a goldfish. She says she learned it from you. What exactly is going on?" After that, Graham didn't dare try to kill himself anymore. He had to set a good example for me. Then one day, years later, the school called him in because I had been caught dating a boy with bleached hair. As it turned out, the boy was Celeste's younger brother, Dylan Rodgers. When she realized who I was, Celeste smiled. "So Mila is your sister. Dylan may not be much of a student, but he's a good kid. I think he'd be perfect for her. Once our families are joined—" Before she could finish, Graham cut her off coldly, "You think becoming part of the Hart family is that easy? Tell Dylan to stop dreaming and stay away from Mila."

My uncle had kidney failure, and I was a match, but I did not want to donate. I had looked it up online. Some donors ended up weak for the rest of their lives, stuck taking medication forever. I hated taking pills. Mom said that was all nonsense. A person could live perfectly fine with one kidney, she told me. It would not affect my life at all. She also said that if I did this one small favor for him, Grandma would finally love me the same way she loved my cousin. However, I did not even like my maternal grandmother. She played favorites. Grandma loved Uncle Oliver, so she loved his son more than he loved me. Every time we visited, Grandma and Grandpa fussed over my cousin and bought him all his favorite snacks while they handed me bruised apples. That was with Mom giving up most of her paycheck every month to take care of them. Still, if donating a kidney really was just a small procedure, then it was worth it to make Mom happy. I was about to sign the consent form when a wall of text appeared in front of me. [Does the main character in every second-chance story have to get screwed over and die before they grow a brain?] I would get screwed over and die? My hand froze on the pen. Another comment floated into view. [Wake up! If you donate that kidney, your health will be compromised for life. Say goodbye to every decent job. And nobody's going to thank you for it!] [And later, your mom's going to blame you for not having a good job, for not being someone she can show off to your grandma!] [She's going to clean out your savings and give it all to your uncle for some business scheme just to stay in your grandma's good graces. And when you try to get your money back? You'll be too weak to put up a fight. They'll literally beat you to death!] Mom frowned when she noticed me spacing out. "What are you dragging your feet for, Cody? I'm your mother. Would I ever set you up?"

My crippled sister, Monica Porter, jumped from the roof of the classroom building. The day before she died, she had just been fitted with the custom prosthetic legs I had paid for with ten years of savings. She was glowing, excited to finally stand up on her own. But my wife's best friend, a guy she said was just like a brother to her, locked Monica inside an empty art room. He smashed her new legs, forced her to crawl on the floor and lick paint clean to retrieve the broken parts, and recorded everything on video. And my wife, a judge, ultimately ruled that the case could not stand. "The video cannot confirm the time it was recorded and may represent consensual performance art between both parties," she said. Sandra Pauley's final judgment was simple. "The deceased had a history of depression. The school and the defendant bear no responsibility." I smiled and cooked her a full table of food. The next day, I hung the bully, Eric Hoyles, from the school's flagpole and livestreamed it to the entire internet. "Honey, remember how you said Monica had such pretty legs?" I raised a claw hammer and brought it down on his ankle. "If you don't hand over the video evidence right now, I'll hook out his Achilles tendon one strand at a time and let him learn what it feels like to crawl!" The wind passed through. His screaming broke apart in the air, mixing with the strained creaking of the flagpole until it sounded almost like music. The live chat went insane. Meanwhile, I laughed until my eyes filled with tears.

Charles Dickson will transfer five million dollars to me every time he cheats. After three years of being together, I've saved enough money to last a lifetime. This time, he transfers ten million dollars to me. I immediately pack my things and make a run for it when I see the money in my account. By the time he tracks me down, I've started a career as a teacher. He looks disdainful. "Enough of this nonsense. What can you teach them?" I run my mouth. "I'm using my experience to teach young women how to find a rich, generous husband who's always away from home, of course!" That strikes a nerve. His eyes turn red with rage as he snaps, "Am I nothing but a teaching tool to you, Chloe?" "Of course not!" I say. Before he can feel pleased, I continue, "At most, you're a failed specimen because you always come home…"

After ten years studying interior design overseas, I came back to my hometown to do work that mattered to the people who raised me. I offered the full package, from site survey to soft furnishings. The materials were chosen by hand. The price was fair to the bone. The town had just gone through a redevelopment. Everyone was getting new units. With the new family policy, every family wanted a third bedroom too. My business was good. Customers from the next county were driving in. Then a girl just back from a city college kicked open my studio with her phone on a livestream and her neighbors at her shoulder. "This is the dishonest one. Look at her. She has been ripping the village off." "In the city, an eighty-square-meter unit can be done for twenty thousand dollars. She is charging eighty." "That's a sixty-thousand-dollar margin. Sixty thousand. Right out of our pockets." The village fell in line behind her. They demanded the difference back. When I refused, they smashed my studio. They beat me into a coma. The pile-on online killed me. When I opened my eyes again, I knew exactly what I was going to do. I would refund every single one of them. And then I would tear out every single thing I had installed. Let's see what twenty thousand dollars actually buys you.

Three years back, a crash wrecked Rhea's hearing—and the future she'd built her life around. At her lowest point, Eddie stayed by her side like a hero, pulling her out of the shadows. But the second she got her hearing back and thought she could finally tell him... she heard the truth: he'd planned the whole thing. For his beloved. So she could win. Yeah, he was already engaged. To that girl. Rhea didn't cry. Didn't scream. Just picked up her phone. "Grandpa, I'm ready. I'm taking back the Cliburn name. And I'm entering the international piano competition as your heir."

On the night of the Halloween dance, Scarlett Adams, captain of the cheer squad, accused me of harassing Theodore Russo, the hottest guy on campus. She tore into me in front of everyone and called me a shameless tramp. She claimed that I, an Omega of the lowest rank, had thrown myself at Theodore. Theodore was an exceptional young werewolf, and plenty of girls on campus had a crush on him. But the giant screen in front of us displayed our messages, which looked downright filthy. "Babe, if you use my underwear to mop the floor one more time, I'll rip your throat out!" "Sweetie, my credit card's maxed out, so send me some money. If you refuse, I'm telling your dad in ten minutes, and he'll teach you a lesson!" "I'm staying over tonight. Don't forget to give me your key." Scarlett stormed up to me, teeth clenched, and screamed in my face, "Everyone, don't let this woman fool you. She's been harassing Theodore nonstop for money, driving the poor guy crazy! "Luckily, I caught her and exposed her for what she really is. She's not some sweet, helpless Omega. She's a money-crazed gold digger!" The other werewolves turned to stare at me, contempt written all over their faces. Down in the crowd, Gerald Harlow, the dean, looked furious. An Omega preying on classmates for money would be a scandal anywhere, and it would drag the whole school through the mud. I took in the looks on everyone's faces, then laughed and shook my head. Come on! Theodore is my fraternal twin brother. Borrowing a little money from him and mooching free meals at his place are perfectly normal. Since when is that something to get attacked for?

The meeting was nearly over when the company's newest programmer projected a screenshot of a document bearing my name. "Mr. Stark, I'm reporting Lina for misappropriating company assets. She put her personal name on the company's core algorithm." Every head in the room turned toward me. I almost smiled. I had built that algorithm on my own years earlier and later lent it to the company. Misappropriation? The accusation was almost laughable. I expected it to collapse under its own weight. I did not expect my boyfriend, the CEO, to nod in agreement. "Lina, this was a collective effort in the end. Update the credit to the company's name after the meeting." I struggled to process what I was hearing. He had come to me in tears, begging to use that algorithm. He had built the entire company on it. I had trusted him completely, so I had never put a single word in writing. Now that trust had become the very thing he used against me. A chill settled in my chest. I picked up the USB drive and set it down hard on the table. "Fine. Change it yourselves." None of them knew I had filed for a patent the moment I finished the algorithm. Unauthorized use of someone else's patent was a serious offense. People went to prison for it.

I drive a Rolls-Royce to the venue where my high school reunion is held. When my former classmates ask me how much the Rolls-Royce costs, I tell them that it belongs to the company. They begin telling everyone behind my back that I work as a company driver, and that I'm not living a good life at the moment. Then again, the car does belong to the company. It's just that the company is mine.

At the New Year's Eve dinner, my mom suddenly assigns some rules to me and my siblings. She claims that those who don't fit the criteria aren't allowed to eat at the table. Rule number one: One must have spent at least 50% of their time keeping Mom company at home last year. Rule number two: One must have gone shopping with Mom all the time. Rule number three: One must keep giving Mom allowance. But it appears that I, the oldest sibling, am the only one who doesn't meet the requirements. My little sister, Chelsea Cage, begins acting coquettish immediately. "All Cassidy cares about is her business, unlike me, Mom! I care about you!" Meanwhile, my younger brother, Cameron Cage, lectures me with a frown, "What's the point of you being able to earn more money than average people? No matter how good a breadwinner you are, the fact that you don't care about Mom completely nullifies it!" My mom tells my siblings to sit around her happily. Then, she criticizes me in a sarcastic tone. "As parents, when we become old, what we need is our children's company, not cold hard cash." I'm pissed off, to say the least. I'm the breadwinner of this family, and yet these freeloaders get to put on airs in front of me. The reason why I don't go shopping with my mom is that she's never satisfied with whatever gifts I've picked out for her during the times I did go out with her. That's why I gave her money straight away. I didn't give my mom any allowance at all because all the money is regularly deposited into the supplementary card, which she has. Since my long-term efforts are worth nothing compared to my siblings' sweet talk, I suppose I can quit being the ATM of this family.

My first day back home and my husband's secretary was already flexing her muscles, trying to grab my antique right out of my hands. Before I could get a word out, she smacked me across the face. Twice. She sneered at me with a look that could freeze fire. "This piece caught my eye, and I'm being nice to you. Better apologize and thank me, pronto!" I moved to confront her, but before I knew it, her bodyguard had me pinned to the ground. She looked down at me like I was nothing. "Trying to challenge me? I'm Mrs. Collins of the Collins family here in Riverton City. You're nothing! One word from my husband and you're out of here!" Passersby started chiming in: "Aren't you going to bow down and beg? She's the apple of Mr. Collins' eye." "Play your cards right, and maybe you'll still be scrubbing toilets in Riverton City." I was ready to set things straight when her title hit me like a ton of bricks. The Collins family of Riverton City? When did Eric get another wife? I dialed Eric's number and laughed calmly. "Eric, since when did you secretly marry someone behind my back?"

The boss' daughter, Pamela Thompson, returns from overseas to take over the family business. The moment she sees me growing vegetables in an empty lot on the factory grounds, she covers her nose in disgust and sneers. "Our factory is a flagship company in this industrial hub!" she barks. "What kind of riffraff grows vegetables here? Do you think this is your personal farmer's market? Fire him, scrape that patch clean, and pave it over with concrete!" "And you!" she snaps, pointing to another worker. "Aren't you getting a little too old? You don't exactly fit our corporate image. You're fired too!" I take off my work uniform, load up my bicycle with my homegrown harvest, and pedal away. Behind me, the workers are all dumbfounded. One after another, they strip off their uniforms as well and fall in line behind me. "Where Drew goes, we go!" This time, it's the spoiled heiress who's left staring in utter disbelief.

To give my wife a sense of security, I stepped back once the company was on track and took over things at home. In ten years, Adeline Hemsley had never brought me to a single company gala. When the tenth anniversary celebration was announced at a five-star hotel, I finally asked if I could come with her. She was slipping into a pair of heels, not even looking in my direction. "You're my husband. If you show up, people won't feel comfortable." Before leaving, she leaned down and gave me a quick kiss. "Be good. Once this busy stretch is over, we'll take Cole to Silver Coast." The door clicked shut. I stood there for a long moment, staring at the Legos and picture books scattered across the floor. A familiar heaviness settled in my chest. Our three-year-old came running over, holding up a black phone. "Dad! Mom forgot her phone!" I hesitated. This wasn't the one she normally used. The moment my fingers brushed the screen, a message preview popped up. [Babe, I picked out a suit for the gala. It's only 6,000. You’ll get it for me, right?]