Plot Twists Short Stories & Hypocrisy Regret Novels

"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."

When Naomi Sullivan married me, she was already ten million dollars in debt. I spent the last five years working three jobs to help her pay off her "debts" while providing for her as well as our son, Shane Lewis. Not once did I ever complain about anything. All along, I firmly believed that my efforts would pay off, and we would eventually lead a good life together. Last week, our company finally secured a massive investment. Naomi and I hugged as we celebrated the occasion. I thought that the hard times were finally over. Today, I ended up seeing Naomi featured in the financial news. Dressed in a formal gown, she was hailed as the sole heiress to a multi-billion-dollar empire. She was shown engaged in an animated conversation with her "investor", Jared Lewis. The news headline read, "Naomi Sullivan Completes Five-Year Adversity Trial, Proves Her Ability to Build from Scratch to the Board of Directors". I trudge home in a daze. When I get there, the five-year-old Shane is playing with the latest limited-edition toy robot. He looks at me with a frosty, distant expression that bears an uncanny resemblance to his mother's. "Mommy told me everything. You failed the trial, Daddy. You care too much about money."

Over the Fourth of July weekend, I took my boyfriend's sister to his flashy new influencer hub. Fresh off brain surgery, Benedetta Griffin needed a break from her recovery, and I hoped the trip would lift her spirits. In the hub, a streamer was hawking a face cream like a carnival barker. "Listen, fam! The boss lady is slashing prices. Get this $3,800 cream for just $398 today!" Benedetta tugged my sleeve. "That cream is bad news." She'd interned at the FDA last summer and could spot a scam from a mile away. "It's packed with steroids. Long-term use will ruin your skin." Driven by her sense of justice, she marched up to the streamer. "You can't sell this unlicensed junk. The steroids exceed legal limits. Pull it from the shelves." Morgan Lamb froze, but then her fake smile twisted into a scowl. "Who the hell are you to trash my product?" Benedetta didn't back down. "You're scamming people, and you know it." Morgan planted her hands on her hips. "I'm the boss lady here. How dare you slander my brand? Nobody leaves until you cough up $500,000 for damages." "Boss lady?" My stomach churned. My boyfriend's sudden venture into the streaming industry now made sense. He was sinking money into this hub to bankroll his lover. I fumbled for my phone to call him, but Morgan was faster. "Babe, get to the hub. Two haters crashed the party, trying to tank our business."

For ten years, I've served as the lover supporting Catherine Sanders from the shadows. With my help, she's able to save her company from the brink of bankruptcy and eventually gets it listed. On the day before we're about to ring the bell, just as I'm about to propose to Catherine, she introduces her childhood sweetheart, Benedict Shaw. Apparently, he is to take over my position in her life. She thanks me for my contributions throughout the decade, but her company is about to embark on a new journey. That means I'm no longer suitable to stay by her side. As I watch the woman I spent the last ten years loving and sacrificing everything for using a bank card to dismiss me, I feel as though my heart has plunged into the icy abyss. "I spent ten years devoting everything I have to you. In the end, it's nothing but a huge mistake." But Catherine remains blind to the truth. Once I quit my job, her company will cease to exist, just like my love for her.

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.

On the day Shane Jackson and I registered our marriage, his infatuated secretary pushed me off a building. I fractured two ribs, lost my baby instantly, and slipped into a coma. Shane stayed by my side and told everyone I was his only wife, never leaving my bedside. But when no one was watching, he pressed that secretary against the hospital bed and murmured, "If it weren't for you, Lily and I would already have a three-year-old child. You owe us a baby. This is what you must repay her." Joanna Rogers trembled in his arms, eyes full of tears. "I'm sorry, Mr. Jackson. I loved you too much. I'll accept whatever punishment you give me." A moment later, I heard their heavy breathing. My eyes, which had been shut for three years, suddenly opened. Tears rolled down my cheeks.

I was the odd one out in the Chicago mob. Other men's women spent their time fighting for affection, clawing for power, watching out for the homewreckers. Not me. I spent mine cleaning up after my boyfriend, Don Vincent Maro. His political rivals — I squared away. His brother's messes — I handled overnight. The women he kept on the side — I dealt with personally. Last month it got worse. He asked me to go chase off a man who'd been hanging around Sofia, his new girl. Sofia pouted. "Elena really can do everything." Vincent said, "That's why I keep her around." Sofia asked, "Won't Elena be upset?" Vincent paused. "Her? She's used to it." Seven years. No title in the Maro family. No public acknowledgment. Just one function — fixing things. This time, I was tired. I slid the last stack of documents across to Vincent. He signed them one after another without looking up. When he was done, he asked: Anything else? I said: No. It's all handled. What he didn't know was that at the bottom of that stack was the document terminating every identity I held inside the Maro family. The moment his pen touched that page, I no longer belonged to the Maros. And I no longer belonged to him.

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."

I was married to Chad Caldwell for ten years. I met all his girlfriends during our marriage. Whenever he got bored and wanted to move on, I was his best excuse. "If you marry me, you'll end up like her. Too familiar and no spark left." On our anniversary, I wiped tears for his latest ex, a college girl, while he was at the movies with his new fling. She used up a pack of tissues, and I seemed to see my old self in her. Afterward, I asked Chad for a divorce. He was confused. "Why not wait a bit? Maybe I'll turn over a new leaf." I gave a faint smile but said nothing. Instead, I booked a plane ticket and flew across the ocean. If he wouldn't turn around, I'd take the first step.

Pauline Ashby, my senior homeroom teacher, is extremely childish. She tends to decorate everything she owns in a childish style. Even the exam admission tickets she has prepared for our SATs are printed on pink paper. On top of that, she even pastes many cartoon stickers on them. "Pink is a great color! This color represents cute little girls like me! Just use these admission tickets when you're about to enter the exam venue! I'm very sure you'll definitely score top marks in the exam!" Upon realizing that Pauline is about to screw everyone over, I quickly call the head teacher. He rushes over and gives Pauline a good scolding before giving us the actual tickets, allowing us entry to the exam venue. Everyone in class completes their SATs at their own pace. In fact, my childhood friend, Caelum Thornley, and I even get into prestigious colleges thanks to our scores. But on the day our scores are announced, Pauline ascends to the rooftop while bawling like a baby. "I just wanted everyone to attend the entrance exam with cute pink admission tickets because the color can boost their mood! Why must Sienna tattle on me? "I did so much research just to pick out the prettiest shade of pink for everyone! I gave it my all to help everyone in the SATs!" As Pauline wipes her tears away with her sleeve, she accidentally steps on the hem of her long skirt, causing her to fall down the building. The next day, Caelum leads the entire class in tying me up and kidnapping me to the summit of a mountain, where they push me off the cliff. As such, all of my bones are shattered, and I die a painful death. "This is your fault for targeting Ms. Ashby! So what if we love using the pink admission tickets?" When I open my eyes again, I've returned to the moment Pauline digs out the pink admission tickets. This time, I choose to keep my mouth shut.

My parents were renowned educators, celebrated as top-tier teachers who mentored countless high achievers. Yet, I was the black sheep of the family, consistently bringing home failing grades. After yet another gentle reminder from my homeroom teacher, my mom erupted in frustration. "How could I have given birth to such a foolish child? You only exist to torture me!" She disappeared for three days. When she returned, she brought a girl with her. "From today on, Cora is my real daughter. You are forbidden to call us Mom or Dad ever again. Get out. Only when you can pass your exams will you be worthy of being my daughter!" Our next encounter was at the hospital, during the school staff's annual physical check. The dean spotted me, speaking. "Renee, isn't this your daughter? Sherry works here now! That means Cora's illness can be treated. Ask her to introduce you to the new director!" My mother's gaze landed on my white coat and shifted from shock to irritation. "She changed jobs and didn't even bother to tell me?" I discreetly covered the badge pinned to my chest, trying to conceal my status. I was now Evie Coffey, the director of Obstetrics and Gynecology.

My Alpha mate has canceled our carefully planned honeymoon trips fourteen times for his Omega secretary. The first time, because of the secretary's phone call about "lost territorial maps," he didn't hesitate to abandon me at a strange Nordic airport. The second time, because of the secretary's plea for help, he drove back alone to the pack's core territory, leaving me alone in the dangerous hunting grounds. For four years, I carefully planned fourteen honeymoon trips, but each time my mate would abandon me to choose to accompany his Omega secretary. Finally, I stopped insisting and decided to give up this mating relationship that was never firmly chosen. But when I joined the Alpha Council's secret research project and decided to leave forever, he cried and searched the whole world for me.

My Alpha mate Derek secretly inherited his sister-in-law Sarah after his brother's death. On the surface, I was his Luna, but in reality, Sarah was the one who truly held his heart. He praised me as the most exceptional Luna, tasking me with caring for all pack members, yet when Sarah tended to an injured male wolf, his jealousy flared so violently that he bit off the poor wolf's paw. In public, he proclaimed me as his beloved Luna to the entire pack, while keeping Sarah hidden safely in the shadows. When enemy wolves kidnapped me after discovering my identity, I desperately reached out through our mind link, begging for help. His response cut deeper than any physical wound: "Olivia, Sarah is carrying my pup. We'll tell everyone it's my brother's son. I must protect her and the baby without leaving her side for even a moment." "Just endure for a few days. Once Sarah's morning sickness improves, I'll lead all our warriors to rescue you." In the days that followed, I sent countless pleas for help through our link, but received nothing in return. Eventually, our connection shattered completely. For an entire year, those wolves imprisoned and tortured me. They broke my hind legs and ripped out my fangs, stripping me of my wolf's dignity. Derek never came for me. When I finally escaped and stumbled back to our territory, blood-soaked and broken, I discovered my daughter locked in the silver prison where rogue wolves were kept. She was being torn apart as food, her small body covered in wounds. Meanwhile, my mate—my pup's father—was joyfully celebrating the first birthday of his and Sarah's pup, announcing that Sarah's child would become the pack's heir. Tears streaming down my face, I gathered my skeletal little pup in my arms. "It’s OK, sweetie. I'll find you a better dad."

When I ran into my ex-husband again, he had just been appointed the new hospital director. In the past, manipulated by my so-called best friend, he misunderstood my sincerity again and again. Because of that woman, he eventually walked out of our marriage. As the vice director, I managed to keep things strictly professional around him, right up until the end of the workday. That evening, the head nurse brought some news. "Dr. Holloway, the Municipal Medical Association is hosting a networking banquet tonight. Leaders from all the major hospitals will be attending." The nurses immediately began discussing whether they could go. Just as I was about to agree, he appeared in the doorway without warning. "Dr. Holloway, you can't go. You're staying tonight to handle the hospital restructuring plan." In full view of everyone, he summoned me into the director's office. Seated behind his desk, he said with an icy gaze, "Everyone else can go. You must stay. If I find out you show up at that banquet tonight, be prepared to deal with the consequences."

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.

Ashton Rivers catches his wife, Jezebel Vesper, on a date with her 99th lover, Damien Grimshaw, and is then "accidentally" pushed down the stairs, causing his eardrums to tear and leaving him deaf in one ear. This is the fifth time an "accident" like this has happened. The previous times involved a broken right hand, a nearly-blinded left eye, and more. Every time, the price Ashton pays is excruciating. However, this time, Ashton doesn't make a scene anymore. He goes to the hospital alone for treatment without any unnecessary drama or accusations. This is all because of the humiliating agreement that Jezebel's grandmother, Lilith Thorne, forced him to sign eight years ago when he married Jezebel. The agreement says that Ashton will receive 100 million dollars if Jezebel gives birth to a child within a year, and 50 million dollars if she gives birth to a child within three years. But if the couple still doesn't have any children in the eighth year, then Ashton is no longer allowed to interfere with Jezebel's extramarital affairs. It's the eighth year this year. On the day Ashton is discharged from the hospital, everyone in Queen City waits eagerly to see Ashton make a fool of himself like he did the previous four times when he went to settle accounts with Damien like a deranged madman.

After I help my boyfriend register his company and successfully land his first deal, he finally decides to make our relationship public. But his junior from college, who's always had this weird hostility toward me for no reason, beats me to it by sliding into the seat next to him. She leans against my boyfriend's chest, her voice smug and satisfied. "Didn't you say you'd wait until the company officially launched? So why the rush now?" My boyfriend says nothing. Instead, he hands her a share certificate and announces to the entire room that she's the company's largest shareholder. The room explodes. Everyone starts whistling and cheering them on. The junior takes the opportunity to kick me while I'm down, throwing insults my way. My boyfriend doesn't just fail to stop her. He actually joins in with his own snide remarks. "Sure, you helped me set up the company and brought in our first client, but she's the one who can actually take us somewhere." I don't get angry. I graciously acknowledge the junior's new position. I want to see how far they would get without me, their biggest asset and most valuable connection.

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.

I lived for racing, but my wife, Whitney Cross, supposedly got so motion sick that even a fast elevator ride could make her throw up. Whenever I suggested a drive along the winding mountain roads, she went pale and refused, claiming she was born with a balance disorder. Then a TikTok trend went viral, with guys posting videos of their girlfriends struggling with things that wouldn't faze most people. I joined in and posted a clip of Whitney dry heaving after a ride on a carousel. The comments quickly filled with sympathy. [She's so delicate! You'd better treat her like a princess.] But then a couple of comments caught my eye. [Hold on, isn't that Whitney Cross? The Queen of Suicide Mountain? She once broke two ribs while riding as Craig Fisher's navigator and still refused to get out of the car.] [Those two were practically inseparable in the underground racing scene. The moment Craig retired, Whitney vanished from the scene, too.] I stared at the screen as everything finally clicked. Whitney didn't get carsick. She just couldn't stand being in the passenger seat with anyone but Craig.

I was human once. Three years ago, Count Dorian Draven turned me into a vampire and took me as his wife. Back then, I believed he truly loved me. But he would often get lost staring at an oil painting that hung in the tower. I knew it was a portrait of Lenore Blackwell, his dead lover. Then, one night at midnight, I saw it with my own eyes. Dorian's soul slipped into the painting, where he wrapped his arms around a completely naked Lenore. Dorian's voice was lazy and husky. "By tomorrow, you'll be fully alive again. Then you'll take Alyona's place as Countess." Lenore laughed softly. "Dorian, I knew there was no vampire more powerful than you. To think you actually found a way to use necromancy to resurrect my soul in her body." I stood outside the door, my face expressionless. So he'd never loved me. He'd only turned me to bring his lover back to life. I didn't storm in and confront him. Instead, while they were lost in each other, I ripped down the blackout curtain and draped it over the painting, covering it completely. Then I fastened the curtain securely to the frame with the Holy Silver Lock. Now that his soul was inside the painting, the frame would be his prison forever. I sold the painting to the Blood Pit, the most depraved underground nightclub in the city. It was a haven for every kind of vice, and I made sure the painting hung right at the center of it all. For a single copper coin, anyone could humiliate the pair however they pleased. I used my power to reverse the necromancy spell, trapping their souls in an endless loop along the edges of the painting. No matter how far they went, they'd never find a way out. Once so proud and untouchable, Dorian was now trapped inside the painting, humiliated again and again until he finally snapped.