Hypocrisy Plot Twists Short Stories & Novels

My girlfriend had spent three years chasing the one who got away. The night before our wedding, the two of them trashed her bride's dress together. I wanted to call it off. She just laughed it off. "I only wanted to make sure I wouldn't regret my youth. From now on I'm all yours, so can't you be a little generous about it?" So I turned around and prepared a grand gift for them instead, wishing them a lifetime of happiness. Later, she came back crying, begging me to forgive her. I held up my hand and let my wedding ring catch the light. "Sorry. I'm married."

An earthquake suddenly hits the company. I rush into my girlfriend's office, only to find it completely empty. I cover my head and frantically call her phone over and over. Suddenly, someone grabs my arm and leads me through the emergency exit. I look up and see my girlfriend, Leona Sampson. Her blouse is torn, and a man's suit jacket is draped over her shoulders. Her cheeks are flushed, and her legs are trembling. "Where were you just now?" I ask, my eyes burning red. Among the crowd, I spot a shirtless man. He's holding the scarf I gave my girlfriend. I recognize him. It's Matt Ryder, the new intern at the company. It suddenly hits me that the woman who claims to love me deeply is cheating on me. I quietly call my best friend, Ryan Duffman. "I'm in. I'll go abroad with you. Let's start our own business."

To shield my sister from a street thug's iron bar after she cut class, my right leg was shattered. The infection that followed left the doctors no choice but to amputate. From that day on, I spent ten years in a wheelchair. Consumed with guilt, my sister massaged my stump every single day. My parents wiped their reddened eyes and promised that everything they owned would go to me someday, to make up for what I had lost. Then my sister won the highest international ballet award, and the whole family wept with joy. Before the ceremony, she looked at my wheelchair. Her eyes suddenly filled with tears. "This is the greatest moment of my life. If a cripple tags along, what will the press write about me? "Dad, Mom, just this once, let the three of us go together, looking our best. Please?" My parents caved in the end. Before they left, Mom was afraid I might fall, so she lashed me to the wheelchair with hemp rope. "Be good, Audrey. I put all the knives and scissors away. Don't move around. We'll bring you back egg tarts from Belem." I sat obediently in the middle of the living room and watched the front door close, then heard the lock turn from outside. That night, the old electric blanket in the bedroom short-circuited and caught fire. The flames burned their way from the bedroom into the living room. I could not break free of the ropes. I could not reach the door handle. I could not find a single thing sharp enough to cut myself loose. The fire licked up my one remaining leg. The pain was beyond anything I had ever known. I sobbed through the smoke, begging my family to save me. They hung up. On the television, my sister stood in the spotlight, her smile radiant and dazzling.

The day a rat sold out our East Coast safe houses, the FBI got its hands on the addresses of every old base belonging to the Five Families. The Commission gave the order: every associate had to report to the neutral church and register within seventy-two hours. Only those who completed registration would make the evacuation list and be picked up by the convoys. Once the list was sealed, no one could be added. But Viola Romano claimed she was the daughter of the Commission's Chairman. She said her father had already saved a spot for everyone. They didn't need to register, and they could still leave on the priority convoy. My friends believed her and canceled their registrations, one after another. I begged them not to gamble with their lives and told them to register just in case. Viola immediately accused me of being jealous and trying to ruin things for everyone. My boyfriend, Matteo Russo, said I didn't understand power and that I belonged in line with the ordinary members. In my last life, I reported the whole thing to the Commission. Viola was exposed. Everyone managed to register before the deadline and secure a spot on the evacuation list. She was cast out of the Family for impersonating the Chairman's daughter and obstructing an emergency evacuation. In the end, she died in an FBI raid. Everyone said she got what she deserved. They thanked me for saving them. But after we moved into the new safe house, Matteo shot me from behind. The bullet went straight through my heart. The people I'd saved just stood there, watching coldly. "The worst that could've happened to us was getting arrested by the FBI. Viola lost her life!" When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day Viola promised to get everyone onto the evacuation list.

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."

I had just finished warming up at my adoptive father's boxing gym when I was brought back to my wealthy biological family. When my tanned, heavily muscled self walked into the living room, my biological parents, who had been ready to humiliate me, fell completely silent. They had brought me back because they wanted me to marry the heir of the Lamberts. He was rumored to have a violent temper and had already scared away ten fiancées. The fake heiress was still pretending to cry at first. But the moment she saw my massive biceps, she stopped crying. She nervously hid behind my older brother. "Jack, are you sure Mr. Andrew is abusing Rachel and not the other way around? What if Rachel is the one beating Mr. Andrew to a pulp?" My brother looked down at his skinny wrists. Then he looked at my palm, which could crush a brick with one hand. He silently took a step backward. I jumped up and threw a couple of punches. "I heard this guy has a terrible temper and is unpredictable?" My biological father awkwardly cleared his throat. "Yes. He's pretty violent." I excitedly slapped my thigh. "Whoa, why didn't you tell me sooner? What a coincidence. I was just looking for a decent sparring partner."

With just seven days left until the college entrance exam, the high school's PA system suddenly crackled to life during the morning break. “My name is Lily Smith. I’m a senior. Before I graduate, I’d like to confess my feelings to my crush.” Inside the classroom, every eye instantly locked onto Jack. The room exploded into rowdy cheers and teasing. Jack felt his face burn as his heart hammered against his ribs. After all, he had spent three whole years cracking jokes to help his childhood friend, Lily, overcome the deep dark pit of her depression. On her eighteenth birthday, she had even initiated their first kiss. “You were the light that pulled me out of the darkness. I hope that once finals are over, I’ll finally get your answer,” Lily’s tender voice continued over the speaker. “I love you, Matthew Fox.” Jack froze. His hand trembled as he crumpled the textbook in his grip. Lily had not confessed to him. It was Matthew Fox, the bad-boy transfer student who had arrived that semester, made Jack's life a living hell, and spread malicious rumors that he had multiple older sugar mommies.

On college decision day, everyone at Westcreek High was talking about valedictorian Shawn Jamison. The hopeless romantic had turned down Velmont University for a less prestigious college that offered a huge scholarship! The school administrators were so furious that they immediately tore down the poster celebrating Shawn as the school's top student. Shawn didn't care. He was busy working part-time at a local club, hauling cases of beer. Once he finished his shift that night, his wages and scholarship money would be enough to cover college tuition for him and his girlfriend, Jenna Sharp. A moment later, several familiar voices came from behind him. They sounded like Jenna's closest friends. "Come on, hurry up! Jenna told us to set up a surprise for her boyfriend in the club's VIP room upstairs tonight." Shawn froze, and his heart pounded. No wonder Jenna said she had plans tonight. She was planning a surprise for him.

I was in the parking garage of my Beverly Hills high-rise. And I backed my car into my neighbor's Ferrari. On purpose. I got out, a half-empty bottle of tequila in my hand, right in front of her. "Are you blind? Do you know how much this car costs? Can you even afford to fix it?" She was furious, her face turning red as she whipped out her phone to call 911. I just smirked. "You should probably call them. Get the LAPD down here to arrest me. I'll wait." The first time around, I was the fall guy for my fiancé, Grant, and his sister, Blair. They got high at some Hollywood party, went joyriding, and killed an innocent valet. But the car was my Porsche. And they swore I was the one driving. I rotted in a California state prison for ten years. The shock killed my mom. A heart attack. When I got out, they weren't done. They forged offshore debts to drain my trust fund and drove me to suicide. I woke up 24 hours before it all happened again.

After I was reborn, I burned every photo I had with Natalie Landers and tore up the three years' worth of love letters Kristen Rhodes had written me. In my last life, I'd been nothing but a joke caught between those two women. Natalie swore she loved me, but the moment I gave up my study-abroad spot for her, she left the country with Freddy Palmer. Before she left, she wrote me a letter, saying, "He needs me more than you do." I spent three months falling apart. Kristen brought me dinner every night and told me, "I've waited eight years for you." Once we were together, she came home on time every evening and never so much as looked at another man. I thought I'd finally bet on the right person. Then one winter, I got into a car accident. I spent seven days unconscious in the ICU, and she never once came to see me. Instead, I overheard the nurses talking. "His wife comes by every day, but only to check on the patient next door, some man named Freddy." I found out later that Natalie had taken Freddy abroad to help him pay off his gambling debts, all with money Kristen had given him. I hadn't been anything more than an NPC in the love story the three of them were writing. This time around, I sold the house early and took my grandfather abroad with me to study.

My sister lied and accused me of cheating right in the middle of the college entrance exam, all to snatch my guaranteed spot in college. My results were voided, and I was banned from taking the exam for life. "I don't want her to stray from the straight and narrow…" My sister cried in front of the cameras, as if she were the victim here. Then, she took the acceptance letter from a famous college that should've been mine. She also stole my boyfriend and told everyone they were an official item. Eventually, she got her happily ever after. Meanwhile, I got into a car crash on my way to the precinct to clear my name and died a horrible death. When I opened my eyes again, I was back in the exam room.

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.

Our pack’s pups were born with weakened wolf spirits. I paid for their treatment out of my own pocket, only for their mothers to drag me online.They accused me of using the free wolf treatment I provided for their pups to test serums on children from the contaminated zone, making poor families' pups bear the risk for Alpha pups. What they didn't know was that the pack was badly contaminated. Without treatment, those pups would die. To save their wolves, I brought in the best healers and used the best medication and treatment protocols. Care cost more than eight thousand dollars per pup every month, all of it out of my own pocket. Now the entire internet was accusing me of experimenting on pups and doing the Alpha elite's dirty work. So I made up my mind and sent a pack-wide announcement: "In response to the mothers' request for autonomy over their children's treatment, Moonbridge will suspend the free wolf treatment program, effective immediately." "Starting today, eligible wolf moms will receive a monthly childcare subsidy of two hundred dollars." The moment the announcement went out, every one of them lost it. Now they were all crowded outside my office, begging me not to stop.

My mother makes three million dollars a month overseas, yet my monthly allowance is only ten dollars. When my father confronts her about it, they nearly get a divorce. My brother, Peter Thorne, takes pity on me and secretly gives me some money. However, he is punished for his actions. Hence, every time I get so hungry that my stomach feels like it's digesting itself, sheer resentment wells in me toward my mother. I hate her for being so ruthless and cruel, for giving birth to me yet being unwilling to take care of me. And then, one day, I receive a video call from myself ten years into the future. I eagerly ask, "How is life for me ten years from now? Did I finally cut off all ties with that wicked and terrible woman I call my mother?" However, my future self's eyes immediately redden as she yells at me furiously, "Just so you know, that 'wicked and terrible woman' you speak of donated her kidney to you without any hesitation when your precious father and brother caused you to get kidney failure! "Not just that either! She spent her entire fortune on paying them off so that they would leave you alone and cut off all ties with you! Due to that, she didn't even have enough money to afford anti-inflammatory drugs after the operation and died from the pain on the hospital bed!" As my future self takes in the disbelieving look in my eyes, her lips curl into a smile that is even uglier than a grimace. "Your monthly allowance is actually supposed to be 100,000 dollars, but they skimmed off 99,000 dollars of it and gave it to Dad's illegitimate daughter. If you still don't believe me, just head over to Botanic Villas on the east side of the city."

Before the birthday party starts, my boyfriend, Edward Parker, casts his phone onto the large screen in the private room. He starts an anonymous poll in the group chat we share with our friends. The question is, "Tonight, should I stay and cut the cake with my girlfriend, or go to the premiere with my childhood friend?" A 30-second countdown begins as the votes keep climbing. His childhood friend, Renee Lane, gets 17 votes while I get just one. Everyone thinks I'm the one who has voted for myself. Edward leans back against the couch and smiles. "The minority yields to the majority." Renee hands him the movie ticket. "Guess everyone agrees that I need you more." Meanwhile, I'm standing before a cake with the candles still unlit, wearing my favorite dress. Someone in the room whistles. "Tanya, don't be a sore loser." The voting thing has been going on for three years now. Whenever we fight, Edward will let them vote on who apologizes first. On dates, he will let them vote on whose hand he holds. Even when I ask him whether he loves me, he sends the question to the group chat, saying, "Let's have everyone weigh in." I think that if I win just once, he will finally take my side. But I never win. Tonight is no different. Edward gets to his feet and grabs his coat. As he walks past me, he ruffles my hair. "Be good, okay? I'll make it up to you when I get back." I look at the results on the screen, lock my phone, and push the cake knife toward him. "No need. Edward, I'm done voting."

The year I turned fourteen, Grandma and I were crammed into a beat-up trailer on the edge of a desert town. She couldn't afford paint, so she mixed colors from the cheapest red clay pigment at the general store. When a frame broke, she hammered it back together herself. When canvas tore, she patched the back with old cloth and sealed it with a paste she boiled from leftover church wax and cheap resin. Grandma never went to school. She painted out of pure love, and she kept at it for thirty years. Then one summer, a gallery owner named Evelyn Hart crawled into Grandma's leaky shed and examined every painting, flipping each one over to study both sides. The next day, every last painting was gone. Finished oils, sketches, pigment records, old photographs, frames. Everything cleared out overnight. Three months later, Grandma walked into Evelyn's gallery and saw her own painting, Madonna of the Red Rock, hanging in the brightest spot. But the brass nameplate beside it bore Evelyn's name. She lunged for the painting. The security guards pried her fingers loose and dragged her out the door. That night, a blizzard sealed off the roads. She pounded on the glass, but no one came. The next morning, when I found her outside the gallery, her body was already frozen solid. After the funeral, I went to clean out what was left of the burned shed. Inside the lining of an old brush pouch, I found a small scrap of painted canvas. It was a piece Grandma had trimmed off while repairing Madonna of the Red Rock. The thief had missed it. I tucked it away and kept it. For twenty years. Twenty years later, I was the compliance director at an international art marketplace. A young woman submitted an auction application for a series of paintings. The Desert Madonna Series was about to be sold to collectors and private museums around the world. The collection was valued at more than $150 million. I opened the file. In the artist field, I stared at the name for a long time. "Application denied."

When I was eight, a prank by my little sister, Alice, left silver poison eating away at my heart. To save me, my dad knelt at the Temple of the Moon Goddess for ninety-nine days. Only then did he win two moonstone pendants from the Goddess, enough to hold the poison at bay. After that, Alice became the family pariah. They stopped speaking to her. They wouldn't even let her smile. For my sake, my father traveled far and wide searching for a cure for the silver poison. My mom quit her work as a healer to care for me, because the moonstone pendants needed her at the Moon Temple every day to replenish their magic. I always believed the Moon Goddess watched over me, blessing me with the best family in the world. That belief lasted until the day registration for the Imperial Academy closed. Three minutes remained before the Imperial Academy's registration portal closed. Then a sudden thunderstorm drained the portal's power crystal. Without hesitation, my mother ripped the pendant from around my neck and poured its magic into the portal. I clutched at her clothes, my lips turning blue. "Mom... I can't breathe..." But she looked at me with nothing but disappointment. "Grace, you've already taken all the love and resources that should have been Alice's. Now you want to rob her of her future too? "You still have the backup pendant, and yet here you are playing the victim! I'm so disappointed in you!" She shoved me into my bedroom and locked the door. But she didn't know. Alice had borrowed the other pendant for her graduation ball.

My fiancée canceled the five-million-dollar investment I'd made in my best friend's company and replaced it with a five-hundred-dollar transfer. She told me that real friendship shouldn't be measured in money. Three days later, she invested a hundred million dollars in her childhood sweetheart's company at the most expensive hotel in Manhattan, in front of Wall Street investors and the media. Everyone started cheering, telling her she might as well just marry the guy. She didn't stop them. Why would she? She believed that no matter what she did, I'd never leave. What she didn't know was that I owned the core system that generated most of Nexora's profits. I'd spent eight years building Nexora, the company she was so proud of, from the ground up. She also didn't know my last name was Hale. I was the sole heir to Hale Global Group, a conglomerate powerful enough to bankrupt Nexora with a single word.

My twin sister, Vivian Hall and I were inseparable. Then she died. Three months later, I married her husband, Lawrence Peterson. For five years, he only touched me once a year, on our birthday. He made me wear her silk nightgowns. He made me put on her signature red lipstick. He forced me to mimic every detail, from the exact way she brushed back her hair to the soft sound of her voice in the dark. "Lift the corners of your lips," he whispered against my skin, his breath burning hot, his words ice cold. "Vivian never smiled so cheaply." He pulled me closer, burying his face in my neck. "Do you know why I only touch you tonight?" he breathed. "Because tonight is the only night I can pretend you are her." In the heat of the moment, his mouth pressed hard against mine. His eyes were wide and dark, overflowing with a tenderness that seemed drowning. For one fleeting second, I let myself believe he was kissing me. That he loved me. Then he whispered her name. Five years of playing a ghost is enough. This pathetic excuse for a marriage ends now. I picked up my phone and typed a message to an unknown number. [I accept your bet.]

It was the eighth year of my marriage. As I was driving my daughter to school, I took a call on speaker. "Is this Mr. Andrew Benedict? Your wife, Ms. Clara Miller, left her diamond ring in our executive suite." My hands froze on the wheel. Andrew was my husband. Clara was my best friend. I rushed to my brother's office, desperate to prove it was a mistake. He didn't even look up from his desk. He wasn't surprised at all. "Summer, drop it," my brother, Aaron Walter, said calmly. "They have a child together now. Just pretend you don't know. "He lied to you to spare your feelings," he added. "We all kept quiet for your own good." I felt my blood cold as it ran through my veins. "He's right, Summer," a soft voice chimed in from the couch. "Don't blame Clara. You're both mothers. You need to understand her side." It was Olivia Walter, my sister-in-law. The three of us used to call ourselves inseparable. Now she was asking me to pity the mistress and the bastard. In family, friendship, and love, I was the only outsider.