Hypocrisy Regret Short Stories & Novels

My first day back home and my husband's secretary was already flexing her muscles, trying to grab my antique right out of my hands. Before I could get a word out, she smacked me across the face. Twice. She sneered at me with a look that could freeze fire. "This piece caught my eye, and I'm being nice to you. Better apologize and thank me, pronto!" I moved to confront her, but before I knew it, her bodyguard had me pinned to the ground. She looked down at me like I was nothing. "Trying to challenge me? I'm Mrs. Collins of the Collins family here in Riverton City. You're nothing! One word from my husband and you're out of here!" Passersby started chiming in: "Aren't you going to bow down and beg? She's the apple of Mr. Collins' eye." "Play your cards right, and maybe you'll still be scrubbing toilets in Riverton City." I was ready to set things straight when her title hit me like a ton of bricks. The Collins family of Riverton City? When did Eric get another wife? I dialed Eric's number and laughed calmly. "Eric, since when did you secretly marry someone behind my back?"

"Tap more ash into his cup. He needs to understand this isn't the place for an idiot like him." I went to the break room at lunch to fill my water bottle. The second I walked in, I saw Santo and his crew gathered around my mug, ruining it. Ash coated the rim, and cigarette butts floated in the coffee. The sight turned my stomach. My folder lay on the floor with a few black boot prints across it. Santo raised an eyebrow when he saw me. "Good. You saw it. We don't feed idiots here. Go back where you came from. "You've got one week to leave on your own. After that, I have plenty of ways to make you disappear." I said coldly, "You don't call the shots at these docks." Tony, Santo's right-hand man, laughed, pulled out a gun, and tapped it against my temple once, then again. "You'll find out soon enough whether my word means anything. "You crossed Santo, and you still think you can stay? Dream on!" The others sneered, and every one of them slammed a shoulder into mine on the way out. I watched them go and smiled a little. They have no idea who I really am. And they certainly don't know that one word from me is all it would take to make Santo disappear from this world.

After my family went bankrupt, my fiancé, Thaddeus Blackwood, firmly broke off our engagement and chose Vivienne Winters instead. It was Sterling Knight who helped me clear my debts and arranged my father's funeral, rescuing me from financial ruin. For the next three years, he remained steadfastly by my side. Just when I believed I had found my salvation, I overheard a conversation between Sterling and his friend the day before our wedding. "Do you really plan to marry Arabella Frost? Aren't you afraid she'll eventually discover that you orchestrated her father's death and her family's bankruptcy?" "Vivienne has already married Thaddeus," Sterling replied. "I might as well marry her. And if she finds out, so what? I paid off her debts and gave her father a proper burial. I've done right by her." Only then did I realize that Sterling had deceived me too. From beginning to end, I was the only one truly invested in this relationship.

My girlfriend and I had agreed to marry as soon as we graduated. But after I waited three hours at the registration hall, she registered with my stepbrother instead. He had been in love with her for ten years, and now he was being sent to the deadliest front in space. “He won't survive without me,” she said. “Once he's gone, I'll still be yours.” My father and stepmother told me to be the bigger person. As I looked at their self-righteous faces, I accepted a command at the same front and became my stepbrother's highest-ranking superior. By the time news of my victories—and my wedding—reached home, every one of them had lost their minds with regret.

Rosalie Lardner has 19 chances to get Brandon Searle into bed. Succeed just once, and she wins. Fail all 19, and she loses the title of "Mrs. Searle" for good. This is the bet she made with Brandon's stepmother—a deal she signed with complete confidence. But unfortunately, she fails every single time. Eighteen attempts, 18 failures. Now, it all comes down to the 19th try.

My husband kept making me see a psychiatrist. He said I had delusional disorder and kept imagining I was a corporate heiress. He once grabbed me by the throat and screamed that my parents had died in a car accident years ago. To cure my "illness" and stop him from worrying about me, I took my medication on time and tried to forget those "delusions". One day, I was handing out flyers on the street when a Rolls-Royce stopped in front of me. The driver respectfully opened the door. My father, who had only ever appeared in my "delusions", stepped out, pain written across his face. "The one million dollars I transfer to your account every month is supposed to let you see what life is like. Why are you out here putting yourself through this?" One million dollars? I could hear my ears ring. What exactly had my husband been hiding from me when he said he had spent all our savings treating my illness?

By the time I got home from my business trip, it was already past midnight—and my husband wasn't there. A woman's blouse lay on the sofa. It wasn't mine. I called him. He said he was working late at the office. I didn't bother with pretense. "Whose blouse is on the sofa?" His tone was light and casual. "Who else would it be? It's obviously a gift for you. Try it on." Suspicious, I picked it up and held it against myself. The blouse was clearly one size too small. "Honey, this is a size S. I always wear M." My husband owns a clothing company. He handles all my clothes. He's even used my measurements to design women's wear. There's no way he doesn't know my size. On the phone, he froze for half a second, then spoke as if piecing something together. "This is a new women's line I'm launching. I ordered custom pieces for you and my sister. I must've grabbed the wrong one. I'll switch it tomorrow." A moment later, his voice softened with exhaustion. "Babe, you've been gone for days. Without you, I feel so tired… I miss you so much…" It was already late into the night. Hearing him sound vulnerable—something he rarely did—made my chest tighten. I blamed myself for overthinking. But the moment I hung up, realization struck. His sister has the same build as me. She always wears size M.

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.

During the Thanksgiving holiday, my mother-in-law Mary came to visit us from Ohio. I took her to my husband Liam's new spa in Manhattan, Apropos. We enjoyed a basic facial treatment together, which I had purchased for $9.90 on an e-commerce platform. Right after the treatment, the beautician slapped a high-priced package down in front of us. She glanced at us contemptuously and said: "Do you really think you can enjoy our premium services with a $9.90 coupon?Stop kidding. You two look like you’re here to freeload. A single facial here costs thousands of dollars. This isn’t some free trial for cheapskates like you." I suppressed my anger and said coldly: “We have already paid for the basic treatment. How can you call this taking advantage for free?. Go get your manager.” A flashy woman walked over. Her arms were crossed. She looked down her nose at us. “I’m the Boss lady of this place.You and this old hag are just trying to get something for free, aren’t you? Let me be clear. You're buying this five-thousand-dollar hydration treatment today. Or you're not walking out that door.” A five-thousand-dollar hydration treatment? So this was it. This was why Liam suddenly got into the beauty industry. He didn't open a spa. He opened a scam shop to bankroll his mistress. I was about to call Liam, but she beat me to it, dialing a number. “Darling, you need to get down to the spa, right now. I've got a couple of hicks from the sticks making a scene, trying to get free services!”

To transfer my sister, Suri Voss, who was 13 years younger than I was, to a new school district, I took 7 days of annual leave and went back to my hometown. I pulled strings, delivered gifts, called in favors, and finally forced a spot for her in the best middle school in the city. At last, when I could pause long enough to catch my breath, I told Mom, who was heading out to buy groceries, that I wanted grilled pork ribs for dinner. Suri walked over with a cold expression, then threw a full glass of icy water straight onto my head and pointed at my face as she exploded. "You country leech, mooching off our family for years, eating our food and living in our house whenever you feel like it. I let all that slide. Now you want to steal my mom too? Do you have any shame at all?! "Listen carefully, Mom only has one child. She will only ever love me!" I stood there, stunned. Suri had no idea I was Mom’s biological daughter, too. All this time, she had treated me as some freeloading relative. I looked toward the doorway, where Mom was changing her shoes to go out. She seemed not to have heard a single word of Suri’s disrespect. She merely said casually, "Suri doesn’t like ribs. Let’s have grilled shrimp instead." She had forgotten that I’ve been severely allergic to seafood since childhood. I lowered my head and let out a quiet, self-mocking laugh. Unbeknownst to them, if I could secure Suri a place in that school, I could just as easily make sure she lost it.

On the day of the Red Alert storm, the underground parking garage flooded over three feet deep. I was trapped right under a ventilation duct, holding my daughter, Daisy, as she suffered a severe asthma attack. When my husband, Theo, drove a rescue boat into the garage, I burst into tears and begged him to save our child first. Instead, he pulled up right next to his first love, Sophia, and leaned down to grab her wet shoe. “Her health is fragile. If her shoes stay soaked, she’ll catch a fever.” I begged him to just take one look at Daisy, her lips already turning blue from lack of oxygen. However, Theo just sneered. “Let her catch some fresh air to clear her head. Tell her not to act all dramatic like you.” Sophia climbed into the boat, wiped her feet with a dry towel, and gave me a gentle smile. “Charlotte, Daisy will be fine.” As the water rose to my chest, I had no choice but to haul myself up the ventilation pipe with Daisy in my arms. Right there against my chest, she slowly suffocated to death. In the middle of the night, Sophia posted a photo of that dry towel on social media. Her caption read: [Being cherished feels even warmer than hot water in a storm.] At that exact moment, a voice message from Theo popped up on my phone. “If you’re done throwing a fit, bring Daisy back home. Don’t ruin our wedding photoshoot tomorrow.” I dressed my daughter in a white burial gown, carefully tucking her freezing little hands into her sleeves. Then I took Theo’s toothbrush, his shirts, and his slippers, throwing them into the dumpster downstairs. Outside the window, the rain finally stopped, and dawn broke. My seven-year relationship with Theo, along with Daisy’s last breath, was left behind in the mud of last night, never to be recovered again.

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."

For as long as I can remember, my parents have been crying about how poor we are. In order to put food on the table, I dare not apply for a prestigious university even though I'm more than capable of doing so. Instead, I work several jobs per day just to pay the bills, hoping to lighten the financial burden on my parents' shoulders. What I didn't expect is that my parents actually bought my younger brother, Randall Carter, a 500,000-dollar Ferrari behind my back! It turns out that my so-called impoverished parents are actually millionaires! The reason why they keep in the dark about their wealth is so that I don't fight with Randall over the family wealth! But they've completely forgotten that if it wasn't for me, Randall would've drained their accounts dry a long time ago!

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.

In my last life, I died three days after Layla Vale became a "savior." Even as she injected concentrated wolfsbane into my IV, she practiced her funeral face in front of a photograph of Seraphina Blackwood. "Once she's dead, I'll be remembered as her savior. Adrian will fall for me sooner or later. Rowan, why did you have to call the police and ruin everything?" I tried to pull the needle out, but my wrist was pinned to the bed. The Vales reminded me that they had taken me in from an orphanage, paid my tuition, and given me a home. So writing Layla's fraudulent interview copy, covering up the wolf-luring resin, and finally dying in her place were all debts I owed her. When I opened my eyes again, I was back two hours before the charity night run began. Layla kicked her white boots over to my feet and ordered me to crouch down and tie the laces, then write the interview copy for her "heroic rescue." She had no idea that two hours later, she would deliberately release maddened wolves to play the hero on camera and leave Alpha Adrian Blackwood's wife critically injured. In my last life, I worked myself to the bone covering every crack in her plan, only for her to kill me to keep me quiet. This time, I warned her: "The east emergency door isn't locked. Something is going to happen tonight." Layla sent the order to the team chat, impatient. "We go as planned. Nobody changes anything." I saved a screenshot, started recording, and for the first time did not clean up after her. Later, her arrow wounded Seraphina. I pulled the child to safety, triggered the alarm, and staunched Seraphina's bleeding. When Adrian arrived, he gave Layla only one look. Yet she told me, her cheeks flushed, "Did you see that? He's fallen for me." I looked at the wolf-luring resin that hadn't been wiped clean off her glove, and I smiled. She had no idea Adrian wasn't looking at a woman he desired. He was watching the woman who had hurt his wife.

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."

My boyfriend's childhood friend, Cassandra Lindth, performs one of the forbidden spells, trading 30 years of her own life just to steal the top spot on the civil service exam from me. She pulls off a 30-day miracle and becomes an internet sensation, her comeback going viral. Meanwhile, I take the fall, get reported for cheating, and am banned from ever taking the exam again. I turn to my boyfriend, Derrick Hayes, for help, but the look he gives me spells pure disbelief. "Have you completely lost it? You couldn't pass on your own, and now you're trying to drag Cassandra's name through the mud? I never imagined you'd stoop this low!" I am speechless, with no way to prove my innocence. Cassandra sues me for defamation, and Derrick shows up in court to testify against me. I have studied for three years straight, and it ends with a three-year prison sentence. My parents are disappointed with me. They go so far as to publish their statement in the newspapers, publicly shaming me. Derrick and Cassandra announce their wedding online and are set to dive into their new jobs as soon as the honeymoon wraps up. With no way to clear my name, I spiral into despair. Disoriented and numb, I fall into the river and drown. When I open my eyes again, I am back to the week before the civil service exam. I toss my exam ticket in the trash and sign up for a three-month temp gig instead. If Cassandra is dumb enough to trade 30 years of her life for my spot, she can have it and choke on it!

Maren Reeves, my best friend, suddenly told me she'd gotten back together with her ex. I tore into her for going back to a man who'd already hurt her, but she only gave me a bitter smile. "Maybe some people are just destined to keep getting tangled up with each other. Renee, I don't need your validation. I just don't want you to be mad at me." At the time, I didn't understand what Maren really meant. I thought she was only worried I'd get worked up over that jerk again. Seeing the conflict on her face, I couldn't bring myself to keep scolding her. I simply hugged her and told her not to settle for anything that made her unhappy. Then, a year later, I went to the hospital because of severe menstrual cramps and unexpectedly saw her leaving the maternity ward. Confused, I was about to approach her when a man hurried over, carefully helping her along and fussing over her every need. In an instant, I instinctively ducked behind the corner, my entire body trembling uncontrollably. Because that man was none other than Isaiah Cole, my husband of three years.

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?

After I was betrayed by my boyfriend, Cole Chapman, five years ago on New Year’s Eve, we reunited at our college reunion. Everyone pressured us to play Truth or Dare. Cole lost first. He picked Truth. Someone asked him, “What’s the most satisfying time you turned someone’s power back on them? He glanced at me mockingly and said with a sense of superiority, “I drained my ex’s savings to pay for my PhD. The day I got my permanent residency, I reported her for illegal work, which got her deported.” The crowd went wild. They thought I would break down crying. However, I just smiled and spun the bottle. When it was my turn, Cole asked me, “Do you have any secrets your ex never knew?” “Yes.” “What is it?” he asked with a smile. I smiled back and replied, “I was working illegally back then because my family cut off my credit cards after I refused an arranged marriage. “Just yesterday, my dad bought the multinational corporation that hired you as my wedding gift.”