Hypocrisy Plot Twists Short Stories & Novels

My online boyfriend, Adrian Ferro, lost a bet at a private casino. And what he'd put up to cover it was me. He added me to a group chat with 100 heirs from New York's biggest mafia families. The group announcement was impossible to miss. "Luca De Santis has won a mystery girlfriend. Weight: 200 pounds." Right after that, someone posted a photo of me from high school, squeezed into a formal gown. In the photo, I was practically bursting out of it. The group chat blew up. "Adrian, did you just give Luca a sow?" "At the charity gala tomorrow night, Luca has to do the couples' challenges with her." Another betting pool opened almost immediately: would I dare show up at the gala? Adrian bet a hundred thousand dollars that I wouldn't show up. He even tagged Luca and wrote, "She's all yours now. How do you like her?" Luca, who'd won the bet, never said a word. Then Vivian Bellini, the reigning beauty of the Bellini family, tagged me. "Tomorrow night is such a big deal. You'll be there, won't you?" I stared at the screen and scoffed. In their eyes, I was still that 200-pound fat girl. But they had no idea I was down to 100 pounds now. Lately, I'd lost count of how many strangers had hit on me on the streets of New York. I didn't bother explaining. I just bet a hundred thousand dollars that I'd show up. Then I typed, "A bet's a bet."

"You guys know what the situation is like in this industry this year. I need to cut our end-of-the-year bonus by half in order to overcome this difficult period." My boss, Peter Hurley, claims that things are difficult in the industry right now, yet his wrist still showcases the luxury watch that he's just bought. My 20,000-dollar bonus is reduced to 700 dollars. In addition, I also received a plaque that says "Award for Outstanding Contribution". "This plaque is worth a lot, Soren. It represents the acknowledgement this company has for you. Don't be so petty when it comes to money." As I stare at the plaque in my hand, I can't help but scoff furiously. "Fine. I won't be that petty when it comes to money. I hope you won't be that petty either when you're paying next month's rent." Peter is stunned momentarily. "What do you mean by that?" I toss the plaque into the trash can. "What I mean is, I'm the landlord of this building. From next month onward, the rent will be increased ten times. If you refuse to accept the new rent, you can pack up and scram."

I spent three hundred dollars on a brand-new phone for my mother, only for her to start saying that the smartphone was stealing her money and that I had personally siphoned off her bank balance. I could never win the argument. So I offered to just reimburse whatever “loss” she imagined. She got even more unhappy. She slapped a stack of receipts on the table and demanded I pay up. “Where did you buy this piece of junk? It’s a ticking time bomb. Give me my money back!” Most of the receipts were for men’s sneakers and athletic wear; the rest were household basics like brooms and hangers. I felt a wave of suffocating frustration. Since when was shopping free? Why was I expected to pay for her? I bought her a new phone, and I just became the ATM? “Fine. If you hate it that much, I’m taking it back to the store.” But she would not let go.

I spent five years delivering food and saved up enough to buy a home, all so I could marry my girlfriend of five years, Megan Portman. On the day of the bride pickup, the bridesmaids went all out with their pre-wedding mini games, and I happily played along. But once every cash envelope had been handed out, I realized something was off. Megan's best friend, Jeanie Westwood, pulled out her phone and opened her payment app. "We want to share in the good luck too. There are eighteen of us here, so each of us gets 999 dollars. We'll bless your marriage to be a long-lasting and happy one." After a lot of pleading, I scraped together 20,000 dollars and sent it over. I figured that was enough to finally win my bride. Instead, Megan sat on the bed and refused to let her feet touch the floor. "My mom just laid down the law. The send-off fee is going up. Let's round it off to 66,000 dollars." I was stunned. "Didn't we agree on 6,600 dollars? Where am I supposed to get another 60,000 dollars right now?" Megan played with her nails, her face cold. "That's your problem. If you can't come up with the money, I'm not putting my shoes on." I looked around at the room full of relatives enjoying the show and stood up. "This wedding is off."

I dropped by to help my younger sister revise her thesis, and while I was at it, I joined her research group for dinner. The moment I walked into the private dining room, a few girls blushed and called out to me. “Hey, handsome, are you single? Give us a shot!” My sister’s boyfriend, Eric Pensworth, looked at me with a faint smile. “Man, you look kind of familiar. You remind me of that pretty boy everyone’s been talking about on the forum. “They say you slept with Professor Alva Jackson and stole my direct-entry PhD spot.” I froze. The Alva Jackson he was talking about was the newly hired professor at Adams University, fresh back from overseas. Just as I was about to explain, he cut me off with an innocent look. “Maybe I got the wrong guy. You look way too respectable to be the kind of guy who lives off women. “But Professor Jackson’s nearly fifty. How could you even do it with her?” I stared at him, completely dumbfounded. Since when had I become a fifty-year-old woman? Was there another Alva Jackson at Adams University besides me?

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?

On the morning of our pre-wedding health exam, a health alert popped up on my smartwatch. It was synced to my fiancé, John William. [2:17 AM. Elevated Heart Rate. Location: Clara Gabriel's Apartment.] Beneath it was an activity log. [Vigorous Exercise. 42 minutes.] My fingers went numb. John had insisted on sharing our health data so I would know if he was working too late or suffering a migraine. I never realized that data would track his pulse spiking in another woman’s bed. Looking back, the signs were everywhere. The night Clara had a fever, his heart rate surged until 3:00 AM. The night Clara had insomnia, his heart rate stayed steady in her apartment until dawn. On Clara’s birthday, his watch logged an all-nighter with three distinct heart rate peaks. Whenever I asked, John would just laugh it off. "You're getting jealous over algorithm updates now? You need a hobby." Clara would give a guiltless smile. "He’s just worried about me living alone." I didn't realize worry was meant to be so hands-on. At the clinic, Dr. Gates handed me the registry forms. "Fill in the groom's information so we can set up the joint file." I looked at the blank space next to Spouse and smiled. "Never mind." His heart wasn't mine to monitor anymore.

Six months into the renovation of my wedding home, nobody around me is free to lend a hand. My fiancée, Tamara Jackson, is busy with a company project. My older sister, Melody Shea, claims to always be away on business trips. My good friend, Derek Hill, tells me that he has some family issues to handle. Yet, on the day before I move in, they blindfold me and tell me that an unexpected person is in the house—someone who has done the honors of "warming the house" for me. As soon as the door is opened, I see my childhood friend, Ian Scott, whom I haven't met in years. He pulls me into the house with a smile, my slippers on his feet, and asks, "Are you surprised?" I certainly am, at least up until he adds, "I'm lucky and grateful to have had so much help recently. Tammy helped me pick out a mattress, and Melody helped me transport my luggage. Derek even accompanied me to pick out the curtains." My smile slowly fades away. It turns out that my family and friends weren't busy per se. They were just all busy helping Ian. I open the door to the master bedroom. I find that the bedding I purchased has been swapped out for another color, the desk is covered with Ian's things, and half my wardrobe has been cleaned out. I ask, "If he's staying here, then where am I supposed to stay?" Tamara frowns and replies, "Ian's engagement was just called off, so he's feeling pretty down. You can just stay with Melody for a couple of weeks." Melody also attempts to persuade me by saying, "All of us here grew up together, so let's not be such strangers." Derek tries to smooth things over with a smile. "Ian's had plenty of bad luck recently. It'd be perfect if staying in your wedding home could cause a bit of good luck to rub off on him," he says. After gazing at them for several seconds, I smile too. Then, I walk over to the front door and change the electronic lock's passcode. Tamara's smile falls off, and she asks, "What are you doing?" I reply, "Nothing much. I just suddenly remembered that I'm legally the sole owner of this property."

After surviving a kidnapping and being diagnosed with severe PTSD, I became the family's top priority. Every sharp object and glass item in the house was removed. The furniture was wrapped in thick foam padding, until not a single hard edge remained. My parents canceled all business trips. News broadcasts and violent movies were banned from the house. To help me feel safe, they even forced my younger brother, who had just earned a full scholarship to a top university, to stay home and keep me company around the clock. Everything changed on the night of my brother's lavish eighteenth-birthday celebration. When fireworks erupted across the sky without warning, I hallucinated instantly and grabbed my father's arm on instinct. "Dad, I've got a terrible headache. Can you take me back to the quiet room, please?" My father, who always told the world he treasured me like a jewel, suddenly grabbed me by the collar and dragged me to the edge of the rooftop terrace. "If you've got such a terrible headache, jump from here and end it all! "We've spent five years living like prisoners because of you, you worthless waste. "Today is your brother's coming-of-age, and you're pulling this again? "Jump! "Stop putting on that dying act every single day just to torture this family!" He squeezed my neck and shoved me impatiently. Then he straightened his expensive bow tie and walked toward the cheering crowd, as composed as ever. So he didn't see me stumble backward and crash through the half-broken railing. The wind screamed in my ears. I spread my arms like a kite cut loose from its string and plummeted.

After my wife, Erina Winters, returns to the family following her affair, everyone in my family becomes her surveillance team. When she takes the trash out, Dad tails after her and films a video for me. "She behaved herself and didn't even glance at her phone." When she goes to her law firm for work, Mom disguises herself as a janitor to infiltrate the building. "Not a single man came within a five-mile radius." When she returns to the country after an overseas case, my long-time best friend, Jeffrey Conley, scans her entire body with a device. "No marks and no hickeys anywhere. Everything looks normal." Everyone assures me that Erina's heart is truly back with me now. She will even cuddle up with me every night, swearing that she will only love me and our future child from then on. Then, she announces that she's going away on a long business trip, so I go for my medical checkup alone. While passing the obstetrics department, I unexpectedly stumble upon her sitting on a delivery bed, with a man cradling a newborn baby next to her, leaning over and kissing her on the cheek. Mom, Dad, and Jeffrey are gathered around the bed too, beaming widely. I recognize the man instantly. It is Dustin Nielson, the man whom Erina once cheated on me with. The moment everyone sees me, they immediately go on high alert. They instinctively shield the baby from me and glare at me with wary eyes. However, I simply walk up calmly to them and tuck a loose strand of Erina's hair behind her ear. "The baby is adorable… It looks exactly like you. "I'll leave you to it. I need to go back and do the laundry."

Everyone says that Eric Winslowe, the Alpha of Kalmoor Pack, loves me to the bone. He learns sign language for me because I can't hear, and he prepares to throw me a grand wedding after I thoroughly fall for him. However, after I regain my hearing, I catch him flirting and being intimate with Camilla Johnson, his maid. They're just in the room next to mine. During a banquet, he even takes advantage of my lack of hearing to brag. "She's just a pet that I have to alleviate the boredom. Alison is the only one I love. Still, I know she'll leave me if she finds out about this. "Thank God Alison can't hear. I won't let her find out about this even after we're married. Watch your mouths, everyone. Don't blame me for getting nasty if any of you bring this up to Alison." I sneer to myself. I want to tell him that he doesn't need to fear others exposing his cheating—I already know. He also doesn't need to look forward to our wedding because all that awaits him on that day is a corpse that looks just like me.

I was twenty-two that year, and I'd been in love with Brandon Aker for five years. I thought it was the best-kept secret I'd ever had. Until our graduation dinner, when someone brought up the girl who was always hanging around him. He turned to look at me, then smiled and looked away again. "Oh, her? I ended up accepting her. She's pretty entertaining." The entire table burst into laughter. The soup in front of me had gone cold. The one who stopped the waiter was Sloan Hastings. "She hasn't had any yet. Could you heat it up, please?" Some people accepted you simply because they thought you were amusing. I wasn’t a joke. I just realized it far too late.

Dad had 22 sons before he finally got me, a daughter at last. He was so thrilled that he replaced our century-old crest of two lions with a lily. I grew up surrounded by doting older brothers. But not one of them had a clue about girls. So when my brother Anthony Gambino brought Elena Bellini home from Milan, I was delighted. When we first met, she stroked my hair and promised to have afternoon tea with me every day. Anthony said she was the love of his life. When Dad saw how much I liked her, he approved the marriage on the spot. But the day after the wedding, she cornered me in the glass greenhouse at the back of the estate. "You stupid little girl. Did you really think I came here to be your playmate? "My husband controls shipping operations at every port in North America. One day, he'll have the final say in this family. "In two weeks, I'll have him send you to Mexico to marry a drug lord. "The only girl the Gambino family treasures will be my daughter." I stared at her smug smile, stunned. Does she really think Anthony got control of our shipping operations all by himself? Years ago, Dad had asked me which brother I liked best. I'd pointed to Anthony without giving it much thought. Dad had put him in charge of the organization's books right then and there. If his wife wanted to make my life miserable, I'd just have Dad pick a different heir.

I worked late one night, and by the time I stepped outside, rain was coming down in sheets. While I waited for my ride, I texted my boyfriend, Landon Jarrett, to complain. [Seriously, it's pouring out here, and I didn't even bring an umbrella.] More than ten minutes passed before Landon replied. [Is that supposed to be a hint? What do you want me to do, catch a train over there just to bring you an umbrella?] [We're doing long distance. Why are you being so dramatic about it?] I froze. At the same time, my rideshare was canceled. Rain splashed up onto my pants, leaving the fabric wet and clammy against my legs. While I stood there distracted, my best friend, Zoe Langford, posted something on social media. It disappeared before I had time to look closely. When I refreshed the page, the nine-photo post had been cropped and rearranged. All that remained was a shot of a man cooking in the kitchen, his back to the camera. [Thanks to a certain someone, my brand-new heels didn't get a single drop of rain on them.] My hands shook as I zoomed in. I would have recognized him anywhere. It was Landon. The recipe notebook in his hand was the one I had made for him myself, filled with recipes adjusted to suit his tastes. By the time I got back to my apartment, I was drenched from head to toe. Then Landon messaged me as if nothing had happened. [Why aren't you answering? Are you home yet?]

On the day of my divorce, my ex-mother-in-law updates her social media with a photo. It's my husband's mistress' ultrasound—she's pregnant. Their friends and family congratulate her. Meanwhile, I share a premarital medical report. It belongs to her son, Owen Wade. It also clearly indicates he has congenital necrospermia. There's no way I'll want a man who can't have kids!

Henry Upton and I have been secretly dating for five years now. One day, I pay a visit to our mentor, Professor Elaine Harding, bringing a gift basket with me. During our conversation, she suddenly mentions my good friend, Ruby McCain. "You know, during our time at the lab, Henry and Ruby showed the best chemistry. They were practically inseparable, always having their meals and going everywhere together. I've always wondered when they will finally make things official and get married." My smile stiffens, but Professor Harding doesn't notice a thing. She pats the back of my hand and says gladly, "Fortunately, the good news is finally about to come. Henry told me that he intends to propose to Ruby as soon as the awards ceremony is over tomorrow. He even asked me to be there and witness the moment. Considering your relationship with Ruby, I'm sure you'll be the maid of honor." For a moment, I forget to breathe. Just then, the doorbell rings. Henry stands on the doorstep with a gift basket in one hand. The other is tightly clasped with Ruby's hand, their fingers intertwined. The air seems to freeze. Henry's eyes meet mine, and his flash with panic. However, his instinctive reaction is to step to the side a little, shielding Ruby behind him. My fingers clench around my phone until my palm starts to ache. On the screen is the message Henry sent me this morning. "Darling, once the awards ceremony is over tomorrow, I'll make our relationship public. I'll make you the happiest bride in the world." But as it turns out, it's not his relationship with me that's about to go public tomorrow. The future he speaks of has never included me. I remain standing as I watch Professor Harding greet the couple with a smile. Seeing the two of them stand side by side sends a sharp wave of pain through my chest, radiating throughout my body. It is at this very moment that I finally realize the truth. At last, I understand why my relationship with Henry has been a secret all these years. The truth is, I was always meant to remain in the shadows for good.

My mom, Olivia Taylor, is a selfless and devoted teacher who is admired by everyone at school. But I know better. When I apply for financial aid, she tells me that other students need the money more than I do and says I should learn to care for my classmates. When I win a writing competition, she awards the prize money to Myra Davis, the girl who has made my life a misery, and tells me not to get too full of myself. When I submit my college applications, she secretly rewrites them and offers the spot to the same girl. In the end, Myra pushes me from a rooftop. Mom says I am rotten to the core and deserve to be taught a lesson. Then she marries into Myra's family and becomes her stepmother. When I open my eyes again, I find myself reborn on the very day I apply for financial aid.

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.

On the 99th floor of the most luxurious apartment building in the capital city, my husband's sister was once again threatening to jump down the building for the 63rd time. Dana realized she was getting tired all of a sudden. She was even thinking of jumping down herself. The police on the other side of the call couldn't say anything else except, "Mrs. Hill, how many times is this already…? Just deal with it yourself and let her do whatever she wants."

My brother had bonded with an Academic Prodigy System, and its mission was simple: get into Northbridge for graduate school. If he failed, the system would erase his intelligence and leave him permanently disabled. To save him, my parents told me, "Aaron, you're smart. You still have options, but your brother doesn't." So they secretly switched my guaranteed admission file and gave my place to him. My fiancee, Vivian Harkins, a professor at the university, personally helped him forge the records. She touched my face with the same tenderness she always used. "Aaron, everything has an optimal solution. Sacrificing one year of your time to protect this family is worth it." My brother held the admission letter with his own name on it and became the star of the celebration banquet. I stood in the corner and watched the system panel in front of me as the [Hope Value] hit zero. The cold voice in my head asked, [Host, you have reached the threshold for extreme injustice. Confirm activation of the death program?] I watched Vivian, with her own hands, fasten the pair of cuff links she had once promised me onto my brother's sleeve. I smiled, swallowed the taste of blood rising in my throat, and said, "Confirm." "Use my life to trade for the rest of theirs... beyond redemption."