Plot Twists Short Stories & Hypocrisy Regret Novels

Ever since I was little, I have been able to hear what human organs were saying. My sickly roommate was overjoyed when she found out about this. “Lena, you can hear organs talk, and I’ve got gastritis. You must’ve been sent by the heavens to protect me! From now on, I’m putting my health in your hands, okay?” After that, she came up with endless ways to make me wait on her. “Lena, I sent you the pickup code. You know I have gastritis. I can’t walk too much.” “Lena, I want pasta tomorrow. Make sure you hurry back with it. If it gets cold, it’ll hurt my stomach.” Every time, I would simply let out a sigh and agree. It was until one day, when I came back after grabbing something to eat, I accidentally overheard her talking on the phone. “What, organs talking? If Lena could really hear them, wouldn’t she have figured out that I’m faking it by now? If she wants to play along, I’ll play along too. “Some people are born to be the heroine of the story. Others are born to be servants. Perfect timing. I picked out a dress today. Just watch how I get her to pay for it.” I pretended I had not heard a thing, I pushed open the door. The moment she saw me, tears welled up in her eyes. “You’re finally back! Lena, I asked ChatGPT today and it said my gastritis has progressed into a stomach ulcer. I might not have much time left. “There’s this three thousand dollar dress I’ve wanted forever. Consider it compensation for neglecting me. Think of it as granting my final wish!” I let out a sigh and placed the order for her anyway. The instant I checked out the item, I caught the smug look in her eyes. She thought I was stupid. What she did not know was that I really could hear her stomach speaking. It had been telling me that it was turning cancerous.

On the day I moved into my freshman dorm, my mother posted a screenshot of a six-hundred-dollar wire transfer in the family group chat. [Giselle, you can't go without at school. Mom will always have your back.] The relatives all praised her as a generous, open-minded mother. Behind the scenes, though, she told me to click decline on the money, and sent me a chart instead: the Family Attendance Chart. [Reply to messages within ten seconds. Answer video calls within three. Every violation costs you ten dollars.] After she'd starved me sick a few times, I never dared miss one of her check-ins again. Then came today's anatomy class. My hands were submerged in formaldehyde, and I missed six of them. By the time I'd scrubbed up, she'd already docked my allowance for the month into the negative. Her voice message was gentle, laced with hurt. "Giselle, you've disappointed me so much. Your allowance is zeroed out. Think hard about what you've done." I fainted on the way back to my dorm, my blood sugar crashing from hunger. When I came to in the campus infirmary, my brother had sent me a message. [Mom's so generous. She gave me six hundred as a dating fund so I could really enjoy the whole college romance experience. Bet you got some too, huh?] Staring at my bruised, IV-punctured hand, I suddenly felt like a joke. Calmly, I went to the nurses' station, signed off on refusing the rest of my treatment, and blocked every one of their contacts. This kind of love, the kind you had to clock in for just to be handed a scrap of it? I didn't want it anymore.

On the day of the Hunt Festival, I have the healer remove my corneas. In my past life, my fiance's adopted sister, Mandy Wells, steals my Crescent Moon Bow and sneaks three Omega wolves into the royal hunting grounds. Mandy spends the day showing off, right up until one of her arrows pierces the chest of the pregnant Luna. The Luna dies on the spot, along with the heir in her womb. Afterward, the three Omegas claim in unison that I was the one holding the bow. When the enforcers show up at my door with the Crescent Arrow, I desperately try to explain that Mandy fired the shot. Mandy cowers in Connor Parker's arms while weeping like a victim. "Aliya, it's fine if you hate me, but you can't frame me for murder." Connor pulls out a memory crystal right then and there. The person drawing the Crescent Bow in the image has my face. "The evidence is right here! How dare you try to frame someone else?" The enraged pack drags me onto the execution stand. They gouge out my eyes, snap my legs, and burn me alive in the sacred fire. When I open my eyes again, I've returned to the day before the Hunt Festival.

My mom loves using me as her bargaining chip to buy her way into heaven. My haute couture dresses, my original sketches, my entire trust fund allowance—the second I look away, she hands them off to her church buddies or broke relatives. All in the name of "saving souls." Whenever I snap, she just acts all smug and self-righteous. "You ungrateful brat! I’m earning brownie points with God for you! It's the only way you’ll ever get into heaven!" The night before my final pitch for Global Lead Designer at L'Étoile, I warned her again and again. I told her not to touch a single thing of mine. Late that night, I caught her trying to sneak my car keys to our neighbor. I rushed over and snatched them back. She just stood there, acting totally innocent. "Your cousin and her friends are going to the new Disney resort tomorrow. She just wants to borrow the car. Is taking the early subway going to kill you?" "Do more good deeds, and God will bless you with that Lead Designer job." I shook with pure rage. "Taking two subways to HQ takes a full hour and a half! Tomorrow's pitch is my entire career! Do you even care?!" "Mom, I’m dead serious. You touch my car today, and we are done. Permanently." She muttered curses under her breath and slammed her bedroom door. The next morning, I saw my sports car still sitting in the garage. I let out a huge sigh of relief. Then I looked at my desk, and my blood ran ice-cold— My briefcase was gone. The one with my exclusive sketches, my encrypted flash drive, and my pitch credentials. Completely gone. I let out a bitter laugh. She thought she could hold my life hostage forever in the name of "holy virtue." But little did she know, this time, I’m kicking open the gates of hell for her. Since she’s so desperate to get into heaven, I’ll personally send her to prison to cleanse her soul first!

My house suddenly catches fire. The nanny is burned across nearly 80% of her body while saving my son, and the doctors spend three days fighting to keep her alive. But I fire her because of a single glass of water she gives him. Then I hire a lawyer and demand that she pay me back for every expensive supplement she took while working for us. My son looks at me as if he can't believe what I've become. "Mom, when did you become so heartless? Amy almost died saving me, and you won't even cover her medical bills. Now you're firing her too? "You're the one who taught me never to forget what someone has done for me. If you won't help her, I will!" I hold his gaze without flinching. "Then go ahead! Samuel, I've frozen all your cards, so you won't be using a cent of my money. If you want to help Amy, you'll have to find a way to pay her bills yourself." Because of what I've done, everyone in my family thinks the worst of me. But I don't explain myself to any of them. After all, I've already died once. In this second life, I'll do whatever it takes to protect my family, even if it means being misunderstood by everyone.

The first time Silvia Robinson undergoes ECT, she is all alone. Even Gregory Fisher, her fiance who loves her so much, is nowhere to be seen. After the doctor gives her a muscle relaxant, she starts to get drowsy. She is in a daze when she recalls what happened that evening. She has waited three hours in line for a special cake, which she is planning to surprise Gregory with. However, she comes home to see Gregory kissing her younger sister, Ella Robinson. The two are deep in a kiss as they hold each other tightly in an inseparable embrace. The cake in Silvia's hands drops to the floor, smashed beyond recognition as Silvia delivers a slap across Gregory's face. Then, she finds herself being pushed down the stairs by Ella. As she rolls down the stairs, Silvia feels like she has already seen this coming. Anyone close to her will eventually be taken away by her sister.

Keane Mercer was the captain of the Boston Blades, one of the biggest teams in professional hockey. We'd been together for five years, and I hadn't missed a single one of his games. I could never get seats near the glass. Every game, I settled for the best spot I could find in a corner, lifting my camera to capture every moment he was on the ice. I asked him once. "Could you save me a seat in the friends-and-family section just once? The view is so much better from there." He didn't even look up. "I'm the captain. I can't play favorites. Maybe another time." He never said when "another time" would be. I never asked again. The friends-and-family seat remained empty season after season. Until the semifinals this year. For the first time, someone was sitting there. She was a young woman with a warm, bright smile, standing with the help of a crutch. Every time Keane scored, his eyes found hers. When the final buzzer sounded, he skated straight to the stands, lifted her effortlessly into his arms, and carried her out, shielding her as they disappeared into the crowd. I lowered my camera, packed away my gear, and walked out of the arena alone. Then I reopened the transfer offer I'd deleted and clicked "Accept". If I was never going to have a place in Keane's friends-and-family section, then I was done waiting on the sidelines. It was time to build a life that belonged to me.

I spent seven years drafting divorce papers for other people. I never expected that the ninety-ninth agreement would be my own. That night, my husband, Carter, lost a tabletop game during a live stream with his childhood sweetheart, Chloe. The penalty was to give up the thing he treasured most. Chloe smiled at the camera, tapping his wedding ring. "Lend me your marriage for a day." The comment section blew up. Carter looked at me like he was giving orders to an assistant. "Evelyn, you know the drill. "Sign a temporary divorce agreement. I’ll cancel it with you tomorrow morning." Chloe lowered her eyes, her voice trembling. "Forget it. She won't let you. You always choose her over me anyway." I reached into my bag and touched the positive IVF result. Seven years of hormone shots. Four miscarriages. I didn't even have the energy to tell him anymore. As the camera zoomed in on my face, I pushed the papers back across the table. "Carter, this time, I’m putting down a bet, too. “I bet the thing you lose tonight isn't just me.”

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.

My elder sister, Alice, was a white wolf. A witch had foretold that my power would devour hers, that the moment I shifted during our coming-of-age ceremony, she would die. The only way to save her was to suppress my power, let her shift first at the ceremony, and break the curse. To save her, my parents spent eighteen years breaking me. And the night before our ceremony, they followed the witch's orders and locked me in the basement with silver-banded iron chains. "Be good, Maria. The silver will only delay your shift. Just get through tomorrow, and your sister lives. Then we can all stop suffering." The chains pressed against my chest. I could barely breathe. But something was wrong. My shift was starting, early. I slammed my fists against the door. "Mom, it's starting. I'm shifting now—" "Don't lie to me." Her voice cut through, sharp and loud. "The witch said both of you shift on ceremony day. Or are you really that eager to watch your sister die?" Footsteps faded down the hall. The pain hit, searing, ripping through every bone. I curled into the corner, feeling my wolf slip away.

Ethan Carter had always believed I was the one woman who could never leave him. That was why, three years ago, even after learning I was pregnant, he agreed to his childhood sweetheart Vanessa’s twisted test and divorced me. “Three years from now, Clara will come back with my child.” He never called. Never once asked if I was safe or how I was surviving. He was certain I would stay exactly where he left me, waiting for him. Three years later, Ethan returned with a bouquet of roses and called me his wife as if nothing had changed. He had no idea that I had been in a car accident the day our divorce was finalized—and that our unborn child had died. He did not know that I had already married another man and now had a two-year-old son. When Ethan offered me the roses, I calmly stepped back. “Sorry. My husband doesn’t like me accepting flowers from other men.” Ethan only smiled, convinced I was still angry and too stubborn to admit I wanted him back. He had no idea that my husband was Don Dante Moretti—the head of New York’s most feared Mafia family.

My name is Jacob Brewer, and I'm the oldest child in my family. Both my parents are top graduates from elite colleges. My younger sister, Willow Brewer, is in third grade and gets perfect scores in every subject. My little brother, Ivan Brewer, has only just learned to talk, yet he can already recite the periodic table from memory. And then there's me, forever scraping by with barely passing grades. So when Willow cashes in her perfect grades for a family trip to Serova over the Christmas holiday, I volunteer to stay home. "I'll stay behind and take care of Grandma since she's paralyzed." Mom hesitates, but Dad simply turns to me and says coldly, "Fine by me. Being a good son might be the only thing you've got going for you anyway." I force the bitterness down and nod resolutely. I know this is already the highest praise they can give me. Being a good son is the only thing that gives me a place in this family. But I never expected that, right after my parents leave, Grandma dies unexpectedly while she's in my care. Then, moments later, I hear my parents' car crash through the phone. As I stare at Grandma's lifeless body on the bed and listen to the crash through the phone, I decide the useless me might as well go with them. Only later do I learn that the crash was nothing but a recording Dad had prepared for me, just to test whether my devotion to my family is genuine. And in the end, I give him my answer with my life.

My mother, Sophie Nash, was also my homeroom teacher, and she loved nothing more than using me to assert her authority. She was convinced that the worse off I was, the more afraid my classmates would be, and the higher her authority would be. Once, when I passed an eraser to a classmate during class, she slapped me so hard across the face in front of the whole class that my face swelled up. Another time, after I secretly ate a crumb of a classmate’s snack during recess, my mom dragged me up to the front of the classroom and pricked my lip with a needle until blood gushed out. Later, when a classmate was caught by the vice principal for having a romantic relationship while underaged, my mom flat-out claimed it was me. Without a word of explanation, she dragged me into the hallway and stripped me naked. She then went to the vice principal’s office while laughing along. “I’m so sorry, Mr. Lennon. It’s my fault for not raising Stella Nash properly. Rest assured, I’ll make sure to punish her severely this time!” The vice principal had furrowed his brow. “What do you mean by Stella Nash? This isn’t the student involved in the early romance.” Sophie paused for a moment. Then, she said nonchalantly, “Oh, never mind. Let’s just make an example of her. “Stella gets into trouble all the time anyway. She can handle one more punishment.” She did not know that every time she struck me, I secretly deducted one point in my mind. Just a moment ago, I had already accumulated 100 points. Without hesitation, I leaped out the window of the sixth-floor hallway. ‘Mom, is asserting authority through death enough?’ I thought.

Five years married to Marcello, and I find out he's no street punk. He's the Don. The head of New York's McCarthy family. While I was pinching every penny, he was dropping millions at auction, buying a fortune in diamonds for Camilla, his dead best friend's widow. He even took the baby I nearly died giving birth to. Gave him to Camilla. He stroked my hair, his voice soft and cruel. "Camilla and I, we grew up together. She was carrying Ethan's kid. If she knew her baby died... she couldn't take it." "We'll have other kids," he said. I said no. So he threatened my family. I gave in. But I made a promise to myself: I was leaving this man. I secretly signed the papers to be a combat medic. I ship out in seven days.

At the base entrance, the guard stopped us for the usual inspection. “Your infection test came back negative, right?” I nodded. The guard was just about to let me through when Ethan Cross, the team’s new medic, suddenly spoke up. “Wait, Captain. What about that scratch on your arm from the mutated rat?” The air froze. The guard’s expression changed at once. “Captain Hale, is that true?” I gritted my teeth. “It is. But the wound has already been treated, and I have antibodies.” “I’m carrying a top-level mission. I need to enter the base immediately.” The guard hesitated, his hand already moving toward the gate controls. But Ethan stepped across my path and blocked me. “Captain! You were coughing badly on the way back. What if you’re a carrier?” Then he turned to the guard, his voice firm and absolute. “I request immediate quarantine for Falcon Squad and a full screening for Captain Hale.” The guard’s eyes sharpened. He raised his weapon. “I’m sorry, Captain Hale. You’ll need to come with me to isolation first.” I froze where I stood. A full screening would take at least forty minutes. But the zombie king in the base laboratory would awaken in thirty. I had to lead my team in and stop it before it broke free.

The day our family went on vacation to an island resort, my younger sister, Alana Fisher, climbed over a safety railing to get the perfect photo. She lost her footing and, in her panic, dragged me into the ocean with her. The rescue crew was about to pull me out first since I was closer when Mom suddenly took a yellowed paper coupon from her wallet and tossed it toward me. "Corinne, let Alana get on the rescue boat first! This is the last thing your father and I will ever ask you to grant!" When I was seven, I couldn't afford birthday presents for my parents, so I drew a hundred wish coupons by hand. Each one read: [Redeem this coupon for one wish. Corinne has to say yes, no matter what.] Years later, when Alana wanted my bedroom, they used one. When she decided she wanted to be an only child, they used another. From then on, I wasn't even allowed to call them Mom and Dad. I had to call them Mr. and Mrs. Fisher. Even the college tuition I'd spent three years working part-time to save was taken from me with the ninety-ninth coupon and used to pay for Alana's dance training. Now, only one coupon remained. I stared at it floating on the surface of the water and suddenly stopped struggling. Then I slipped the only rescue line around Alana and pushed her toward the boat myself. My parents were too busy wrapping her in a blanket and checking her for injuries to notice anything was wrong with me. As the rescue boat headed back to shore, not one of them realized my calf had already cramped so badly that I could barely hold on to my flotation board. Mom only turned back long enough to shout, "Corinne, hang on! We'll come back for you!" I watched them disappear into the distance, a bitter smile pulling at my lips. When I was seven, I believed that if I granted all one hundred wishes, Mom and Dad would finally love me the way they loved Alana. It wasn't until the freezing ocean water closed over me that I finally understood. A hundred wish coupons hadn't been enough to make them choose me even once. But they had been enough to cost me my life.

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.

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.

Brandon Hawthorne said if I wanted to marry him, I had to prove I was tough enough to be a Hawthorne. He took my bank cards, ditched me in a city I'd never been to, and made me figure out how to get home alone. When my fever hit 104°F, he still refused to let the family doctor through the door. Instead, I had to smile through dinner with a house full of Hawthorne relatives while I could barely stay on my feet. And every time I finally asked Brandon for help, he looked at me like I'd failed him. "You can't even handle something this simple. How are you supposed to be my wife?" But when his childhood friend, Patty Rowan, got blisters from her shoes, he picked her up and carried her away in front of everyone. She got a headache in the middle of the night, and he left me alone in the hospital to take the family doctor to her. I asked him why. He frowned. "Patty's fragile. And she's not the one trying to become a Hawthorne." Then came our engagement party. I accidentally ate peanuts. My throat started closing. I couldn't breathe. Brandon grabbed my EpiPen and locked me in the lounge. "This is your final test. If you want to marry me, tough it out." Then Patty called. She had a paper cut. Brandon immediately left with the doctor. "Hold out for ten minutes." I lost track of time. Right before everything went dark, I saw Brandon come back with Patty tucked close beside him. She had a Band-Aid on her finger. Through the haze, I heard the disappointment in his voice. "Patty was bleeding, and she didn't even cry. Are you seriously pretending to be dead?" Then came the final blow. "You failed the test. You're not ready to become a Hawthorne."

The day I discovered Sean's affair, I cornered him and my stepsister Tina in the company warehouse. A fire broke out afterward. Tina died saving me from the flames, and Sean was injured when a pillar collapsed on him. His shoulder was wrapped in bandages. "Joanna, are you happy now?" His ragged scream that day echoed in my ears for a long, long time. Two months later, the company went bankrupt because of the fire. To pay off the debts, Sean and I moved to a run-down neighborhood. I worked three jobs a day, all to ease the guilt eating me alive. A few years passed, and our relationship seemed to find its way back to what it once was—right up until Valentine's Day. That was when I spotted the supposedly dead Tina at the supermarket, shopping for seafood with Patricia, my mother-in-law. "Patricia, thank you. Without you, Sean and I wouldn't be this happy." "Don't mention it. If we hadn't gotten rid of that crazy woman back then, what would've happened to my precious grandson?" Patricia smiled and patted Tina's hand. "It's Valentine's Day. Sean reserved that rooftop restaurant just for you two. Go enjoy yourselves." My first instinct was to call Sean, but before I could even dial, a text from him came through first. "Babe, picking up a coworker's shift tonight. Night pay and the bonus come out to almost two hundred dollars. I'll bring you something good on my way back." I froze where I stood. So that was it. Three years of hardship, and all of it had been a lie they'd carefully woven around me.