เรื่องสั้นและนิยายในฉากHypocrisy Regret

In the fifth year of Gwyneth Payne's marriage to Asher Crowe, he tells her thrice that he wants to bring Liana Quayle along with them when they migrate. Gwyneth puts down the dishes she's just prepared and asks him why. He's frank with her. "I don't want to keep this from you anymore. Liana lives in the residential area beside ours. She's spent nine years with me, and I owe her too much. I must bring her with me when we migrate." Gwyneth doesn't cry or kick up a fuss. Instead, she books a ticket for Liana on their flight. Asher thinks she's finally seen sense. On the day they leave the country, Gwyneth watches Asher and Liana board the flight. Then, she turns and boards another flight that will take her back to her parents' home.

After I refused to donate my kidney to Queenie Dunn's first love, Zayn Chance, she used my parents as leverage over me and forced me to sign the kidney donation agreement. "You can still survive without a kidney, but Zayn's case is different. He will die without your kidney." After the kidney transplant surgery was carried out successfully, Queenie purposefully brought Zayn on a trip around the globe in order to punish me for being selfish. On the fifth year after I died from kidney failure, Queenie finally had her fun. She decides to focus on her family again. But no matter how much she tries, she can never find me. Furious, Queenie calls my parents. "Tell Steven to get his ass home right now, or else I'll divorce him right away!" But the one answering the call is my son, Sean Sutton, who has just returned from his kindergarten. He sounds very meek and scared over the phone. In fact, he sounds like he was about to cry. "My dad has already passed away a long time ago, miss…"

"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.

I'd been with my CEO boyfriend, Stefan Walsh, for seven years, and we'd finally set a wedding date. But whenever it mattered, he was never there—and somehow, he always had a good excuse. On the day of our civil ceremony, his intern assistant, Caroline Doyle, messed up a contract, so Stefan rushed off to deal with it, leaving me alone at the courthouse all day. On the day of our engagement photo shoot, I'd barely started on my makeup when he took off. Apparently someone at a partner company was giving Caroline a hard time. After that, it didn't matter if we were booking the venue or shopping for the wedding. All she had to do was ask for help. One word from her and he'd walk away. Every single time. Then I saw it with my own eyes: he was trying on his wedding suit beside another woman wearing my dress. "How do I look?" Caroline did a little spin. "Do I look better than Nina?" "Of course. It looks like it was made for you." Stefan clapped, beaming. That was when it finally hit me. I'm done. The wedding's off.

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 junior accidentally broke the most expensive piece of equipment in the lab and asked me to help fix it. I had just started touching the instrument when she suddenly stepped back, tears brimming, and said, "Michelle, I can't take responsibility for this. I really can't afford it." Before I could even process her words, Nicky Hardy—the unattainable crush I had chased for three years—rushed in and shielded her behind him. Then he turned to me with a glare that could freeze fire. "Michelle, don't go too far. You can't expect her to take the fall for you." I stared at him, dumbfounded. "You know full well I was shoved into this research group. I don't understand any of this stuff. How could I do the experiments on my own?" His eyes grew colder, dripping with disdain. "I've been saying it—what can a nepo baby actually accomplish? And now the equipment's ruined, and you still have the nerve to push the blame onto Elizabeth?" I opened my mouth to argue, but then I caught a flicker of triumph across Elizabeth Horwitz's face in Nicky's arms. That was when it clicked. They only knew I got in through connections—they had no idea I'd financed this very equipment myself. They wanted to play their petty power games over a piece of lab equipment worth over ten million? Interesting.

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?

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.

Every Merfolk Queen possessed the gift of weeping tears that turned to pearls, amassing fortunes to rival the wealth of kingdoms. After bearing eight sons, the queen adopted a sea serpent shape-shifter and named her our Holy Maiden, intending for her to inherit the throne. Then, a century later, the old queen, against all expectations, conceived once more and gave birth to me. My eight older brothers adored me. Our entire kingdom hailed me as their future queen. However, I was born without tear ducts. I could not cry, which made me a worthless mermaid who could not produce a pearl. In the original timeline, my adopted sister told me of an enchanted spring on land that could make me weep. I trusted her blindly and followed her ashore. I let my tail turn into legs. She set fire to every path I could have taken back to the sea, then strung me up beneath the blazing sun. My scales cracked and peeled away. I could not even shed a tear as I was left to burn and shrivel in the sun until I died. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day of her coronation as the Holy Maiden. She was holding my hand and smiling with sisterly affection. “Don’t be afraid, little sister. I’ll shed the tears you can’t. I’ll look after our people for you.” I saw through her false affection, but I did not expose her. Instead, I obediently fastened the Pearl of the Sea God, the symbol of our sovereign’s power, around her neck. Everyone believed a mermaid who could not weep was worthless. Though none of them knew why I could not shed a tear. Even before my birth, I had turned every tear into deadly quicksilver, a poison that could corrode even a divine soul. I touched the burning corners of my eyes. I could hardly wait to see her face when she used that enchanted spring to force me to cry, only for my tears to blind her.

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.

"He forced me! That night, he got me pregnant." Before the Werewolf High Council, at a public trial livestreamed for the world to see, a low-ranking Omega named Selena cradled her belly and accused me. "I tried to fight back, but I was utterly paralyzed by his Alpha presence. He broke the leg of someone who tried to stop him!" Outside the Council hall, furious protesters brandished signs, their shouts branding me a monster who couldn't think past his dick. Online, every comment section was flooded with the same demand: "Execute that monster Alpha!" The stock of the Blackstone Group, the empire I built from nothing, plummeted. Even the elders I myself had elevated were now clawing over one another to strip me of my Alpha title. When the Chairman brought down his gavel, I stepped forward, slowly raising my hands to unbutton my shirt. "I am a female Alpha." "So please, tell me, in front of the entire werewolf world, how exactly did I get you pregnant with something I don't have?"

I've returned to the Ashcroft family for three years. All three homecoming parties have ended in failure. At the first party, I was accused of stealing a watch in front of the guests. Because of that, I became the entire elite society's laughingstock. In the second party, I was pushed into a swimming pool. As such, I suffered from a high fever and was comatose for three days. It almost killed me. In the third party, a forged paternity test was hurled in my face. My own mother announced that she had cut all ties with me on the spot. Every party ended with the fake heir, Everest Ashcroft, bursting into tears and admitting his mistakes. But the entire family kept telling me, "Everest is deathly afraid of you obtaining our love meant for him. That's why he threw a small tantrum. "You're already acknowledged as a son of the Ashcrofts. Why must you keep latching onto this matter so pettily?" In the fourth party held on the fourth year, Everest threatens to off himself. In order to save him, I fall from the rooftop, causing my right leg to suffer from a comminuted fracture. My entire family huddles around Everest, who's obviously shaken, and keeps showering him with love and care. The butler is ordered to pass on their message to me. "Know your place. Do not disturb Everest when he's in bedrest." As I caress my broken leg, I keep laughing until tears stream down my cheeks. It's not that Everest doesn't want the Ashcrofts to give away their love to me. It's just that the Ashcrofts don't want to acknowledge me as a part of them at all. In that case, I might as well leave this family permanently.

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.

I had once been the woman Theo Bennett would have risked his life to marry. For six years after our wedding, he treated me like his entire world. He even had a matching tattoo carved into his lower abdomen, identical to mine, as proof of his devotion. But in the seventh year, he coldly demanded that I make a full-body model for his kept woman. "Catherine," he said, his voice sharp with contempt, "this is the price you pay for lying to me about being my savior. You know my tastes better than anyone. Make sure you replicate Hannah's body temperature. She's pregnant. I don't want to hurt her." Hannah Moore lay limp in Theo's arms, laughing so hard her shoulders shook. "How pathetic, Catherine," she mocked. "I'm pregnant, so I can't be with Theo. And yet he'd rather order a model of me than lay a finger on you. Once this one wears out, I guess I'll have to trouble you to make a few more copies of me." Only then did I understand. Theo had mistaken Hannah for the woman who once saved his life. I didn't scream. I didn't cry. I didn't argue. I simply turned around and dialed Sebastian's number. "Sebastian," I said calmly, "Theo is having an affair. I want a divorce."

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."

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."

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.