Plot Twists Short Stories & Hypocrisy Regret Novels

I'm the middle child. My older sister, Jessica Carter, is a straight-A student. My little brother, Tommy Carter, is the baby of the family. I'm the one everyone overlooks, yet Mom and Dad are always praising me in front of other people. "Riley is such an easy child. She never asks for new clothes and is perfectly happy wearing Jessica's hand-me-downs." "When there are only two pieces of bacon left at the table, she won't even reach for them. She just keeps her head down and eats her toast as if she hasn't noticed." "Jessica shuts herself in her room to study, and Tommy hogs the TV. But even at ten years old, Riley insists on doing the dishes and sweeping the floors. We can't get her to stop." The day before Christmas Eve, Dad comes home beaming. "My bosses gave me four tickets for a cruise! We're taking a Christmas cruise to Cranford!" Mom looks around at all of us before asking quietly, "But… who's going back to Grandma's place to spend Christmas with her?" All four of them turn to look at me. I raise my hand at once. "I'll stay with Grandma!" Dad gives me a thumbs-up. "That's my girl! We can always count on you. Take good care of Grandma." But they have no idea what was waiting for me… By the time I got to Grandma's house on Christmas Eve, she's already dead. Mom, Dad, I'm sorry. I've let you down. You trusted me to take care of Grandma, but I've failed you… I sit beside Grandma's cold, lifeless body, lost in thought for what feels like forever. Then I quietly open the cupboard and take out the bottle of pesticide. I've made up my mind. I'm going to punish myself the only way I know how—quietly, without making a fuss.

In the fifth year after my death, Oliver Rypien, leader of the huge smuggling ring that has a notorious reputation domestically and internationally, finally gets arrested by the police. At the public trial court, Oliver can be seen wearing an inmate uniform, though his murderous look is etched on his scarred face. He even has the guts to hum a whimsical tune tauntingly, completely unrepentant. After hearing the prosecutor accusing him of killing 129 victims, Oliver suddenly snorts in laughter. "You're wrong. You're missing one more victim. The police officer named Victor Patton who came from the Customs Enforcement Unit? Yeah, he died at my hands as well." Everyone gasps in shock. A reporter is quick to rebuke Oliver. "Hang on, Victor is a mole working for your organization! After a bounty on him was posted, he had nowhere to run to, so he embezzled over hundreds of millions of dollars' worth of national assets before fleeing overseas! Even now, he's still living his life scotfree abroad!" Oliver shook his head before letting out a cold chuckle. "Victor was a stubborn one. Even though I crippled him, he still managed to kill five of my men. How is it possible for him to be our mole? "After crippling him, I threw him into the concrete foundation of Joy Bridge. If you don't believe me, go ahead and dig through the foundation." Suddenly, Oliver lowers his tone. His smile becomes more malicious. "Speaking of which, we did have a mole who worked with us to kill ten police officers. But now, he's successfully washed his hands off his crimes and became a certain someone's husband. "Why don't you take a guess as to who that brainless, idiotic woman is?" Three minutes later, my ex-wife, Gabriella Campbell, also known as the Chief Commissioner of Police in Gakoli, receives a phone call from the court outside the office of a well-known OBGYN department. "Chief Campbell, please come to the court immediately. The defendant has something crucial to tell you in person."

Ever since Mom has gotten remarried, my stepdad, Winston Cox, becomes the only person who matters to her. She saves every luxury meal and delicacy for him, while I am left to sip on his leftover soup. His designer suits fill three closets until they overflow, yet I am forced to wear my cousin's old hand-me-downs. She spends 20 thousand dollars on virtual gaming gear for him, but when I ask for a ten-dollar study guide, she says, "Just memorizing the textbook is more than enough!" One night, the noise Mom and Winston make in the bathroom disrupts my studying. When I ask that they keep it down, Mom throws me out of the house and onto the street. Years later, I turn into a multibillion-dollar entrepreneur. That's when Mom crawls back to me, begging, "Winston and his mistress teamed up and drained all my assets. Could you please take me in?"

Since I can remember, I have been a liar. That is the conclusion my mother made about me. After my twin brother, Daniel Benson, and I are born, she becomes obsessed with a so-called scientific parenting method. So, she puts a lie-detecting collar on each of us. Whenever we lie, the collar lights up in red. The moment it turns red, she presses a remote and shocks me. She says it will help form muscle memory to correct the bad character in me. Daniel's collar is always green. Even when he tears my mom's favorite clothes to shreds and calmly claims a dog does it, the collar still glows green. But I am different. Even if I just say, "Mom, I’m thirsty," The collar would suddenly flash a blinding red light. Then, a current shoots through my neck and into my body, making me tremble in pain. At first, I try to explain. But my mom always says the same thing. "The machine doesn't lie. You have to feel pain to learn. I'm doing this for your own good." After being shocked thousands of times, I slowly start to believe that maybe I am truly born a liar.

Due to my outstanding performance, Mdm. Hall granted me flexible working hours. After a full night of entertaining clients, I had barely fallen asleep when a colleague’s call jolted me awake. “It’s already 9:30 a.m.! How could you be late again?” I patiently explained that I had worked late signing contracts last night. So, I would not be coming into the office this morning. However, my colleague scoffed. “Don’t think that being the top salesperson gives you free rein to skip work! “The heiress, Ms. Hall, is visiting the office for the first time today! “If you upset her, you’d better watch out. She’ll have you fired!” I pushed through my headache and searched my memory. The heiress he mentioned was Cadence Hall. If I was not mistaken, she was the woman who had been desperate to marry into my family.

My girlfriend, Kiara Sommer, gets one of her legs crippled in order to save me. Her adopted younger brother, Cain Fullton, suffers from heart failure after shielding us from harm. Since then, his heart becomes extremely weak, and he has to rely on the expensive imported medication just to survive. In order to gather enough money for their surgical bills, I take on a body-casting job in the black market. Not only are my limbs encased in scalding hot silicon, but I also have to endure it whenever a few female perverts cop a feel of me. I can't even move an inch when I'm doing my job. After all, I'll have to compensate for the damages if I ruin the mold. I can only grit my teeth and endure the agony, only to get slapped a few times in the face afterward. "You already have the guts to take on a job like this, and yet you're frightened of getting groped?" As I withstand the humiliation and the burning pain, I return to the hospital with the money in hopes of buying more medicine for Cain. When I walk past a VIP lounge, I hear familiar laughter erupting from within. "Kia, this is the 998th test, right? Once Shane passes 999 tests, are you really going to marry him?" Kiara frowns slightly at the question, though she soon replies coolly, "Yeah. The tests stem from my family's rules, and you're ordered to serve as the supervisor. But still, don't go overboard, yeah? Shane is the only one meant to be my husband." So, Kiara lies to me and torments me to this point just so she can marry me? As I stare at my broken and bruised reflection in the mirror, I feel my lips curling into a smile all of a sudden. With trembling hands, I dig out the old phone that I haven't used for the past two years. My eyes slowly redden as well. Then, I draft a text message. "I regret everything now, Winona. Please take me home."

At my daughter's high school graduation party, she greeted me with a bouquet containing her wish list. "My dearest Mom! "My life truly begins at eighteen! "This is the first step toward rebuilding my social image and starting an entirely new life! "Thank you, Mom, for supporting me completely!" The list tucked into the bouquet included the newest phone, tablet, laptop, and earbuds. Together, the smaller items cost more than five thousand dollars. But the final line, printed in bold red letters, stabbed into my eyes like the point of a knife: Helena Abernathy must give Chloe Collins a house free of charge. The property will be for Chloe's exclusive use, and no one else will be permitted inside. I stared at the bouquet, while the soul that had died unjustly in my previous life trembled inside my body. Last time, I carried that bouquet home and tossed and turned all night. In the end, I still tried to discuss it with my daughter. "Chloe, about the house... I truly can't afford it right now." "Could we possibly..." Chloe was silent for three seconds before accusing me through tears. "I knew it! You never loved me. You only love yourself!" My photograph, address, and workplace were posted across social media. Then came the online attacks, the doxxing, the red paint splashed across my door, and the suspension from my job. When I stood on a rooftop, unable to endure the abuse any longer, the people below kept recording and shouting: "Jump! If you aren't guilty, why would you jump?" This time, I looked down at the bouquet in my arms and smiled. I didn't want the list. And I didn't want this daughter anymore.

When I accompany my best friend, Olivia Martin, to the hotel in hopes of catching her partner in the act red-handed, I end up catching my own husband, Wilson Gunner, instead. I don't break down in tears, nor do I throw a tantrum. In fact, I even shoot a smile at the young lady who's with Wilson. "Don't worry. I'll keep this a secret." The lady shoots me a grateful look before stumbling out of the hotel room haphazardly. Not only does Wilson not feel any sense of shame, but he also looks at me approvingly. "I knew you were sensible enough to not cause a fuss. Since you're a plastic surgeon, you should know that it's rare to see young ladies who have never gone under the knife nowadays. "The woman from earlier is au naturale. Besides, she's all clean and pure, so you have nothing to worry about." I lower my gaze and nod gently in agreement. But I don't plan on telling Wilson that the so-called au naturale woman was still a young man last week.

I was working as a stunt double for a fight scene when a rising idol actor stabbed me with a real knife and sent me straight to the hospital. My actress girlfriend rushed over in a panic, fussing over me with endless concern. Before I could even feel touched, a floating comment suddenly appeared above her head. [When is Scott finally going to realize that the Best Actress linked him and Francis through a Beauty System?] [The more Scott cares about a certain part of his body, the more perfect that same part becomes on Francis!] The next second, my manager of five years hurried into the room as well. Another barrage of comments floated up. [The manager's no better. She tied them to an Achievement System. The harder Scott works, the more achievements Francis gets!] I stared at the two women in front of me and fell silent. So… my only option was to give up and do nothing?

It's Thanksgiving, and I'm waiting for Zeke Jones to come home after cooking up an extravagant meal. When Zeke returns, he doesn't even glance at the meal I've prepared for him. Instead, he proceeds to pack a bag. "I can't celebrate Thanksgiving with you this year," he says. I take another bite of my turkey and say nothing. At the stroke of midnight, Zeke's first love posts a new photo on her social media page. In the photo, she's lying on Zeke's back with a bright smile on her face. The moon outside the window is bright. "Happy to spend Thanksgiving with good company," her caption reads. Instead of hysterically questioning Zeke about the post, I just tap on the "like" button without reacting in any way. Zeke calls me. His voice sounds panicked as he tries to explain himself. "Please don't misinterpret the post. I will definitely spend Thanksgiving with you next year…" I freeze for a few moments, letting out a small laugh. I don't offer him a reply. Next time, he says? Oh, Zeke, I'm afraid there won't be a next time.

My car broke down on the road, so I took off my jacket, popped the hood, and started checking the problem right there at the curb. A brand new convertible swung in and stopped in front of me, close enough to make a point. My ex-wife Sarah got out on the arm of a man in a tailored suit, one hand clamped over her nose in disgust. "Leo, all these years since the divorce and you're still a bottom-rung mechanic who reeks of motor oil." I wiped the grease off my hands. I could not be bothered to explain that this limited-edition supercar was one I had picked up brand new. When I stayed quiet, Sarah shoved a screenshot of her trading profits in my face. "See that? David got me into a tech stock. One day of gains beats everything you'll make fixing cars in a lifetime!" David Ashford looked down at me, his voice thick with contempt. "Sarah, what's the point of talking investing with a mechanic? He can't even read a price chart. "A mystery fund is buying this stock in batches. I'm already in at four-to-one leverage. I'm about to be set for life." Sarah laughed and threw a few bills onto my open hood. "Here's a tip. Buy yourself a decent coffee and stop cluttering up the view." I looked at the scattered bills, then at the ticker symbol on the screenshot. I knew that one well, and I smiled. That tech company's rally was nothing but a bull trap staged by a fund looking for cover while it unloaded its shares. Anyone still in it would be wiped out. I took out my phone and calmly sent a message to my trader. "We're up thirty percent. Sell it all."

My younger sister had sworn off marriage and children, but as we grew older, she envied me for having both a husband and son. Not only did she demand that I share my husband with her, but she even wanted my son to care for her in her old age. I scolded her for being delusional and shameless. But she held a grudge, and in front of my son, she claimed that I had cut off his chance at inheriting a fortune. He believed her. With one strike, he killed me and then declared to the world that my sister was his real mother. When I opened my eyes again, I returned to the day my sister refused to go on a blind date. This time, she happily agreed to it and even boasted to me that she planned to have many kids. "Liz Stanton, this time, I'll be the one with a husband and kids." But I had no intention of reliving the misery of marriage either.

When the company began choosing a vendor for staff lunches, I immediately ruled out my family's restaurant. A coworker stared at me. "Nora, that is a $150,000 contract. Your family runs a restaurant, and you're turning down money being handed to you? Are you out of your mind?" I smiled and didn't answer. In my last life, I took that contract. Then the new intern, Fiona Bell, accused me of secretly pocketing a commission. She even produced a quote from a three-star hotel for comparison. "Look, theirs is three dollars a portion. How do you justify charging eight?" Even my boyfriend of six years, Gavin Shaw, whom I had been seeing in secret, joined her in confronting me with the invoices. In the end the whole company froze me out. After I was diagnosed with severe depression, I died in a car accident one groggy-eyed morning. Three months after my death, several people were poisoned or killed after that hotel cleaned its dishes with pesticide. This time, I slid the order back to Fiona. My voice was calm. "You're the intern in facilities. You know the approval process better than I do. I'll stay out of it."

I was getting a spa treatment at a beauty salon when Phoebe called. "I just saw Derrick buying jewelry for a woman at the mall." "Got it." "Aren't you going to catch him in the act?" "No need." I gave birth three months ago. After the spa, I needed to hit the gym, and by five, I had to pick up William. I had no time for this nonsense.

In the third year of chasing the famously untouchable Hayden Lane, I still hadn't managed to marry him. The Lane family had an old rule. Any woman who wanted to marry into the family had to personally draw a fortune stick and receive a supreme blessing. I tried ninety-nine times. Every single time, the result was the worst possible omen. Before my hundredth draw, I personally saw Hayden replacing every fortune stick inside the cylinder. "No matter how many times she tries, she can only draw the worst omen." At that moment, I finally understood that he truly didn't love me. But that was fine. I didn't want to marry him anymore either. I tossed the fortune cylinder aside and turned away. Then I called my parents. "I accept the marriage alliance with the York family."

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.

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.

My boyfriend proposed to me when we graduated from high school, but I made a deal with him instead of giving him an immediate answer. "We'll get married when we've collected 500 train tickets." In the first year, Marcus could hardly wait to come see me every day. Before long, our collection had grown to 280 tickets. He even laughed and said that he'd be able to take me home as his wife before graduation at the rate he was going. In the second year, we met each other halfway. Soon, the number of tickets climbed to 400. But in our third year, Marcus told me that his advisor had taken on a new project and that a junior who had just joined the research team needed him to show her the ropes. He became swamped, so I ended up visiting him most of the time. Meanwhile, he only came to see me occasionally. By the end of the year, we had barely managed to collect 460 tickets. In our fourth year, he said he was too busy with internship interviews, leaving me no choice but to pull several all-nighters to finish my assignments so that I could spend a weekend going to see him. We finally collected 499 train tickets just before graduation. I secretly put on a white wedding dress, slipped on the ring he'd given me when he proposed, and boarded a train. I wanted to surprise Marcus. I wanted to tell him that we had finally reached 500 tickets. I wanted to tell him that I was ready to marry him. But when I arrived at the foot of his dormitory building, my heart full of anticipation… I saw Marcus holding another girl tightly, surrounded by a large heart of flickering candles. He lowered his head and kissed her on the lips amid the cheers and teasing from the crowd.

On the day I drive home from my business trip, I find out that my husband, Matthew Channing, has occupied my parking slot. His SUV is parked haphazardly between two parking slots, leaving me without any space to park my own car at all. I find it funny that Matthew is such a klutz when it comes to things like this. So, I take a video of the situation and upload it to the Internet. Little do I know that it will go viral shortly afterward. Thinking that everyone will laugh at Matthew with me, I'm surprised when I see the comment section. "Don't tell me you got tricked by your husband for real! It's obvious that he has a mistress at home with him right now! Once you reach home and call him to move his car, he'll know that you're back!" "Lady, leave the car be! What's more important right now is the mistress in your bed!" "Do not call your husband and tell him to move his car no matter what! Right now, you have to go home and catch him in the act!"

I'm the daughter of a poor couple who make a living selling fish at a market. We're so broke that every penny counts. Even so, my parents scrape together everything they have to support my dream of becoming a professional dancer. They pay for my training and even spend their life savings on my scoliosis surgery without a second thought. However, when Sylvie Putnam throws me to the ground, leaving me on the verge of paralysis, and then beats me until my face is a bloody mess, Mom barely spares me a glance. Instead, she gently strokes Sylvie's head. "Good girl. You did the right thing after she upset you. Remember, never let anyone bully you." Dad even picks up a stick and strikes it against my spine. "Don't worry. Worst case, we'll just pay some compensation. What could this worthless life of hers possibly be worth? We have plenty of money anyway!" His words make the pain explode through my body and heart all at once. Just yesterday, Mom and Dad were keeping vigil at my bedside day and night, frantic with worry over my illness. Now, all I can do is curl up on the ground and let a stranger kick and beat me without mercy. "Good grief. She's practically being beaten into a cripple. How can something this serious happen and her parents still not show up?" "Isn't she a dance student? Their audition is in a couple of days. What a shame…" As the other students whisper around me, my consciousness slowly fades. Little do they know that the people who have just beaten me into a cripple are my very parents.