Hypocrisy Short Stories & Novels

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

We'd just moved into a new house, and along with it came a brand-new fingerprint lock on the front door. On moving day, my parents rounded up the whole family to register their fingerprints. I was the only one left standing outside in the cold for half an hour. By the time I was finally let back in, my brother and sister were already testing the new lock, giddy with excitement. My mother cupped my sister's hand fondly, as if the fingerprint scanner might have hurt her fingers. "Oh, our little princess has her face and fingerprint all set up now. No need to worry about forgetting her keys." My father beamed, unable to stop smiling. "From now on, if anyone ever dares lock Cassandra out of this house, they'll have to answer to me first!" Nobody seemed to think there was anything wrong with that. I looked at the lock and asked quietly, "Dad, what about my fingerprint?" The smile on my father's face faltered for a second. He waved a hand dismissively. "The app for this lock only lets four people register. Your mom and I plus your brother and sister already fill all four slots. There's no room left for you." My mother shot me a look of open distaste. "You barely even leave the house. What do you need to register your fingerprint for? Just knock when you get back, isn't that simple enough?" I watched the four of them, huddled together in cheerful harmony, and thought back to something my parents had said when they bought the lock. 'A real family is one where anyone can push the door open and walk in, any time they want.' As it turned out, I had only ever been the outsider who had to knock. If there had never been a place for me in that house, then I decided I wouldn't be walking through that door again.

I had a perception disorder that messed with how I saw and felt stuff. So when I got dropped into a horror game, everyone else freaked out trying to survive— Me? I thought I was in a dating sim. I raised a young fae like she was my kid, fell for the vampire count, and treated the undead like my in-laws. The first time I saw the vampire—face torn up, soaked in blood—I straight-up blushed. "You're really handsome." He froze. Then, low and uncertain: "Am I... really handsome?"

Every other student could hear the inner thoughts of Chloe Yates, the campus belle. It was like a radio station was broadcasting her mind, and unfortunately for me, the broadcast was usually bad news. It started during the ROTC courses in our freshman year. I was doubled over with terrible period cramps and asked to sit out. Chloe just shook her head, letting out a dramatic, pitying sigh. "Oh, this is awful," her internal voice broadcast to everyone. "Should I tell everyone the truth? Sylvie is totally faking it. If the sergeant finds out she's lying, he's going to punish the whole class because of her." The sergeant, hearing her thoughts, immediately assumed I was a liar. He forced the entire class to run 30 laps as punishment. After that, no one would talk to me. Later, when I applied for the need-based financial aid grant, Chloe went on a rampage with her internal thoughts. "Her family isn't poor!" her voice screamed in everyone's heads. "They have a car and a house. She's just vain. She's trying to scam the college out of grant money so she can buy a new phone. I feel so bad for the actual poor kid whose spot she's stealing." Once the class heard that, they silently agreed to vote against my application. Without that money, I had no choice but to work three part-time jobs just to survive. I worked myself into the ground until I finally gave out. I collapsed in the classroom while clutching my chest, suffering a massive heart attack. I cried out, begging my classmates to call 911. However, Chloe's voice cut through the air right then. "She doesn't have a heart condition. She's pregnant. She's trying to trick a guy into taking her to the hospital so she can get an abortion, and then she's going to frame whoever helps her for getting her knocked up." Terrified of being blamed, the students backed away from me like I was radioactive. They stood there and watched as I died on the classroom floor. Right up until the moment I died, I never understood why my life had turned into such a nightmare. However, when I snapped my eyes open, I had returned to the day of the ROTC courses. The cramps were back, and the sun was beating down on me. Chloe did not know one crucial detail. This time, I could hear her thoughts too.

On the day my family went bankrupt, my older sister fled the country overnight to escape her wedding. When I returned home after selling off every luxury item I owned, my alcoholic father drugged me and sent me to the bed of Tristan Chevalier, a man with intermittent explosive disorder. Once the effects of the drug wore off, he realized something was wrong. His eyes bloodshot with rage, he wrecked Chevalier Manor. He was even willing to sever ties with his family just to go abroad and explain everything to my sister. In the end, however, Tristan's grandmother, Donna, threatened to take her own life, forcing him to marry me and register our marriage. Whenever Donna pressured him to have a child with me, he would deliberately wait until his intermittent explosive disorder was acting up before taking me with brutal force. Afterward, even when I lay on the bed covered in blood, he would not spare me a second glance. "Sylvia Jefferson, consider this my reward to you this time. If you can't get pregnant, you'd better be prepared to spend the rest of your life as a widow!" After that, I tried everything I could think of to seduce him, but he refused to touch me, not even with a finger. Instead, he tormented me even more cruelly. In public, I was the once-down-and-out heiress who had married into a wealthy family, living the life of a pampered society wife. Behind closed doors, however, he gave me only twenty dollars a day to keep myself fed. Then, one night, I took advantage of his drunken state and climbed into his bed, hoping to sleep with him. But he called the police on me and accused me of sexual coercion, turning me into the laughingstock of our entire social circle. Eventually, I stopped longing for a child. I even personally brought my sister back to him and handed him the divorce papers. Yet this time, Tristan refused to let me go.

A fortune teller once said that if I married before my older brother, he would spend the rest of his life alone. To save Arlo Pennick from that fate, my parents and my older sister, Lorna Pennick, did everything they could to tear my relationship apart. The night before my engagement party, they even abandoned me in the mountains. Four or five drunk men stumbled by and went out of their way to start trouble, rushing at me with fists and boots. I called home in tears and begged for help, but my parents never picked up. Lorna answered, only to tell me coldly, "Mom and Dad already decided—Arlo is marrying your fiancée now, and she's agreed to it. Arlo is this close to beating that prophecy. Can't you stop thinking about yourself for once? "You can play the victim all you want. I'm not coming to get you!" The line went dead, and I closed my eyes in despair. The next day, Lorna finally came to pick me up. On the drive back, she told me to behave and not make a scene once we got home. She expected me to snap at her, but I only nodded quietly. "Okay." Her expression softened a little. "Once Arlo is married, the prophecy will be broken. When that happens, Mom, Dad, and I will find you a better match." I said nothing. What she did not know was that to escape those drunk men, I had made a promise to the spirit of that mountain. In seven days, I would leave everything behind and bind myself to her as her husband.

During an ambush, I risked everything to save Matthew, but in doing so, I lost the ability to stand—my legs were permanently damaged. Matthew was devastated. Holding me close, he swore he would love me forever and never betray me. Overwhelmed with emotion, I agreed to marry him. In secret, I sought medical treatment, and after a long, gruelling journey, the day finally came when the doctor told me I could walk again. Overjoyed, I rushed home, eager to share the incredible news with him. However, the moment I pushed open the door, my world collapsed. Matthew was fooling around with his female assistant—right there in our home. On our bed. Wrapped in each other's arms, they kissed passionately, completely lost in the moment. As things heated up, the woman gazed at him and murmured, "Matt, why don't you just leave that cripple? She can't satisfy you at all." "Don't you love the thrill of sneaking around? It wouldn't be nearly as exciting if I left her." A wave of icy rage surged through me. So that was what our marriage meant to him—nothing more than a twisted game, a joke between him and his mistress. Drained and heartbroken, I turned and walked out. That night, I booked a flight back to my hometown. I was done with this city. Let Matthew live with his regret.

My mom had a sudden heart attack, and the medical bills were piling up faster than I could breathe. I was desperate, so I turned to my rich boyfriend, hoping he could help, or at least offer some kind of solution. But instead of the support I expected, he unleashed a tirade that hit harder than anything I'd ever heard. "So this is why you're with me? Just for my money? You're no different from those other women throwing themselves at me. You're all the same—pathetic and shameless!" Before I could even react, he shoved me out the door. Later, when he finally understood the full story, he handed me a bank card, no questions asked. "Candice," he said quietly, his tone almost remorseful. "The password is your birthday." I didn't say a word. I just let the card drop onto the floor and walked away without looking back.

In my previous life, I, Ruth Spencer, fell seriously ill. Because of that, I managed to stop my husband, Zayne Colman, from going on a business trip to the country border. He immediately canceled his flight, pulled me into his arms, and gently comforted me. Over the phone, he gave instructions to my younger sister, Reagan Spencer. "The project comes first. You go in my place." But no one could have known that the so-called business partner was actually a ruthless scam syndicate. Reagan had her organs harvested and was tortured to death. I was devastated. Zayne held my frail body in his arms and hoarsely promised that even though Reagan was gone, he would still love me twice as much. And he kept his promise. For ten years, he never let me suffer at all. In fact, he spoiled me rotten. This went on until the day I gave birth. The pain nearly knocked me unconscious, but Zayne put his hand over the call button to prevent me from summoning help. The words he spoke were laced with malice. "If you hadn't gotten sick at such a convenient time back then, Reagan wouldn't have gone alone! I could have saved her. "It's your fault she's dead! She must feel so lonely down there. You and this bastard child can go keep her company!" That was when I finally realized that our love were nothing but a lie. When I open my eyes again, I am back on the day he is about to leave for that trip to the border. This time, I release them to the path leading to freedom, or, in other words, to hell.

I was born to be my sister's blood bag. She needed a constant supply of fresh blood, so I stayed on call twenty-four hours a day. No junk food. No getting sick. My whole body was kept in perfect condition, all for her sake. The day I turned eighteen, they dragged me into an operating room to donate my bone marrow to her. Half-conscious, with no one watching over me, I died right there in the hospital. I thought that once I was gone, the three of them could finally live together happily as a family. But after I died, they stopped loving her too.

When my boyfriend came to my family home to ask for my hand in marriage, my sister-in-law, who was usually cold and aloof, became a completely different person. She flung her arm around me warmly and asked, “Cassie, who’s your favorite? This boyfriend or one of the dozen or so men that you’ve brought home before?” As I denied her accusation and interrupted her, she cheekily batted her eyelashes at my boyfriend and cooed, “Oh, yes, yes. Cassie has never brought another man home. You’re the lucky first!” In the midst of dinner, she deliberately took her own soiled underwear out of the bathroom, pinched her nose, and waved it around as she screeched, “Oh my goodness, Cassie! I know you don’t really care about hygiene, but we have guests today! How can you have no shame? It smells so bad!”

As the younger sister of the most powerful Alpha in the Southern Territory, I dated Damon, my brother's biggest rival for Alpha King, for five years without telling my brother and parents. We were in love for five years, and he gave me everything. He always tells me his wolf can't control its desire when it sees me. That's why he likes to have sex with me anywhere, anytime—even out in the wild, he doesn't care. But the day before our mating ceremony, I found out that my fiancé was dating me just to threaten my brother to quit the election with our sex tape. After knowing the truth, I decided to give up everything and leave, but my fiancé humbly knelt on the ground and begged me to come back.

After my boyfriend, Mitchell Cooper, finds out that I've spent 300 thousand dollars on a mug, he demands that I buy his mother a single-level apartment that's worth eight million dollars in the heart of the city. Naturally, I turn his ridiculous demand down in a roundabout way. But this sets him off instead. "Don't be so stingy! My mom will become your mom in the future! What's wrong with showering her with gifts in advance?" Afterward, he records all our expenses that have taken place during our relationship on presentation slides and tells me that we have to split them up. "If you think splitting up our expenses is a troublesome thing to do, then you might as well imburse all of them. You're the rich one, after all. "I've already discussed everything with my family. We'll only give you one dollar as a form of wedding gift. It means 'the only one,' which sounds amazing, right?" Upon noticing my lack of response, Mitchell issues the ultimatum right away. "If you refuse to accept these conditions, then we can call off the wedding. You've already dated me for so many years. I'd like to see if anyone wants a second-hand woman like you." I stare at the long list of expenses that need to be split. I even catch sight of the two-dollar Uber fees that were charged when Mitchell came to look for me in the past. With a smile on my face, I reply, "Okay, then. I don't want a single cent from you in terms of wedding gifts. I'll buy your mom that apartment right now."

"Mr. Dawson, about that farmhouse construction project in Hattensburg… I've decided that I'm willing to go there." Gary Dawson, on the other end of the line, sounds fairly surprised. "I've been asking you to go there for ages, yet you refused every time because you said you wanted to be with your boyfriend, Timothy. Why the sudden change of mind?" Madeline Carlton lowers her reddened eyes and pretends to chuckle nonchalantly. "I guess I hit one too many walls and just decided to come to my senses afterward." Hearing this, Gary sighs and says sternly, "This is a highly classified mission. You will be assuming a whole new identity when you start working on this project. Before the mission ends, you will not be allowed to have any contact with the rest of the world. "Madeline, are you sure that you've thought things through?" "Yes. I just want to escape this place as soon as I can." There is a long silence on the phone. However, Gary answers right after the pause. "Alright. I'll send the classified contract to you in a while. It should take about a month for the paperwork to be finalized. Use that opportunity to say goodbye to your friends and family." The call disconnects. An email pops up in Madeline's inbox. Right after reading through the classified contract, she signed her name with a flourish and submitted the file with a click. At the same time, Bloomberg Group's new product launch plays on the television. Timothy Bloomberg, wearing a tailored white suit, slowly leads Lacey Houston up the catwalk stage.

On the country's most popular live television show, if a death row inmate received forgiveness from the victim's family, they would not be executed. The camera focused on a young man behind a set of steel bars. "Vance Hester. Diagnosed with bipolar disorder. Committed six murders in six months. Currently awaiting execution." The host turned toward the audience. "Our producers contacted the families of every victim in the hope that they might be willing to give him a second chance." But all six families refused to forgive him. They demanded that he pay for his crimes with his life. As the tension mounted, Greyson Reynolds, the eldest son of the Reynolds family and a special guest on the show, spoke calmly, "Letting your emotions dictate your decisions is ridiculous. What good does killing him do? It won't bring anyone back. You might as well be the bigger person and show some mercy." He paused before adding, "Besides, there's always more to the story. Are we really supposed to believe the victims were completely innocent?" Beside him, Melanie Reynolds wore an expression of profound sympathy. "Everyone makes mistakes. How can we condemn someone to death over a single mistake?"

Six years after marrying Rhiannon Westley, she takes a lover. He's like a puppy—timid and clingy. He flinches at the slightest raised voice, so Rhiannon never loses her temper in front of him. But when he acts up in front of me, Rhiannon snaps. She's furious, and she gives him a harsh scolding. The next day, he sends me a photo of his neck covered in red marks. "Zane, Ms. Westley is so fierce..."

Before my wedding, I went to find my fiancé with a pregnancy test in hand, intending to surprise him. Instead, I overheard a heated argument between two men on the terrace. "My dear brother, didn't you personally send her to my bed just to get revenge for Elena?" The man, identical to my fiancé, twirled a USB drive in his hand, a wicked smirk playing on his lips. I had been with my fiancé for seven years, yet I had no idea he had a twin brother. What was worse, I never realized that during those passionate nights when I thought my fiancé was finally showing me affection, the man lying beside me was actually his twin. And all of this happened simply because their "savior" despised me. To repay his debt to her, my fiancé tacitly allowed this humiliation. It turned out that the love I had cherished for seven years was nothing more than a twisted game of revenge the brothers had orchestrated together, all to please another woman.

My pack was slaughtered. But my fated mate Ethan turned his back on me, choosing another she-wolf, Lyra. In my darkest hour, his brother, Alpha Caden, claimed me. He promised me safety. Vengeance. A home. For three years, I was his Luna. I thought I was safe. Then I learned the truth. "You've hidden the evidence for three years, Alpha. You know Lyra was behind the Dawn Moon slaughter. What happens when your Luna finds out?" Caden’s reply shattered my world. "I have to protect Lyra. Even though she chose my brother, I need her to be happy. As for Selena, making her my Luna is compensation enough." My legs went weak. I almost collapsed, sobbing. The monster who killed my family was right beside me all along. And the mate I loved so deeply? Our bond was a lie, built only to shield her. So I performed the Farewell Ritual, a ceremony to erase myself from the world. Only when he was about to lose me forever did Caden finally see the truth. Shattered by regret, he hunted down the real killer, begging for a forgiveness he would never earn.

After I landed a five-million-dollar contract and saved the company from financial collapse, my CEO wife wrapped me in an excited embrace and said she wanted to have a baby with me. She took out her phone and showed me a virtual baby on an app she had just signed up for. "Look, honey," she said. "Isn't it adorable? You can even change how it looks. Do you like it? Once things settle down at the company, we can have a real one." That night, I came across a post by her male secretary on social media. It was a photo of a positive pregnancy test, with my wife's figure visible in the background. I did not comment. I just liked the post. When my wife noticed, she panicked and called me immediately. "Honey, it's not what you think. Please listen to me! I wanted to surprise you. The baby is yours! "Can you clear things up on social media for everyone? I promise I'll give you a child of your own soon." She insisted the baby was mine, yet she seemed to have forgotten that we had not shared a bed in six months. "End the pregnancy," I said. "We're finished."

Before we submit our college applications, I help our homeroom teacher hand out each student's sealed official records envelope as the class monitor. But the class belle, Vivian Nash, says she's an art student who's about to debut as a celebrity. To thank everyone for taking care of her, she asks the whole class to tear open their sealed envelopes and slip one of her glamor shots inside so they can "share in her good luck." My boyfriend, Brandon Dunn, immediately steps up as her childhood friend. He says he doesn't just want one of her photos, but he also wants her autograph on his envelope. Afraid something might go wrong, I immediately warn him that opening the sealed envelope could negatively affect his application to Caldoria University's School of Foreign Service. Before I can even finish speaking, Brandon kicks me hard in the stomach. The other students laugh and mock me. "You're just stirring up trouble for no reason. Everyone knows what you're really thinking. You're just afraid Vivian will get back together with your boyfriend!" I'm so furious I can't even find the words. But due to my responsibility as the class monitor, I call our homeroom teacher over and forcefully stop the absurd stunt. Later, everyone gets into their dream colleges. Well, everyone except for Vivian. At our class reunion six months later, Vivian suddenly bursts into tears in front of the entire class. She accuses loudly, "Why did you isolate me? It's your fault I made a mistake on my college application!" I'm dumbfounded. Suddenly, she grabs me by the throat and forces poisoned liquor down my throat. I die before I can be saved. After my death, Brandon and our classmates all defend Vivian. They even paint me as the class bully. Meanwhile, she goes viral by livestreaming her sob story and quickly becomes a rising celebrity. When I open my eyes again, I'm back at the moment Brandon is eagerly playing the gallant knight backing up his damsel. This time, I take the initiative and hand him his sealed envelope. "I think Vivian is right. It'd be nice to keep one of her photos as a souvenir."