Contos e Romances sobre Tragic Love com Hypocrisy

I suffer from severe depression, while Jayden Sherwell's best friend, Mindy Quest, is always quick to call people out for being dramatic. When my condition flares up, Mindy poisons the emotional support dog that has been by my side for five years. When I learn about Teddy's death, I break down and try to kill myself. Mindy locks me alone in the bedroom. "Suicide is just stupid. She's trying to kill herself over a dog? Just leave her alone to think things through," Mindy says. I pound on the door. My hands tremble as I grip a knife and hover it over my wrist. I keep telling myself over and over that I can't kill myself. I crawl to the drawer and search for my antidepressants, but it's empty. Mindy's smug laughter rings out from outside the door. "I just flushed them down the toilet. Just hang in there. Taking medication for years has made you stupid. "Now you try to kill yourself over every little thing." My physical symptoms become severe. I lie on the floor, struggling to breathe as I fight to call out to Jayden for help. Unable to bear watching me suffer, Jayden opens the door, but the moment he touches me, he takes two steps back. "Mindy is right. You aren't depressed. You're just being dramatic," he says. "You can't expect us to cater to you forever. Just hang in there. You'll be better soon." I collapse over Teddy's cold body, and whatever warmth remains in my heart disappears. At that moment, I feel as if I completely lose the will to go on living.

The first time I find a hair tie in Ryder Jones' jacket pocket, his mother, Nara Winter, comes to me to explain. "Thea, you've misunderstood Ryder. I accidentally left that hair tie in his pocket." The second time, I find a moonstone earring in our den. His buddy comes over with a grin to claim it. "So, that's where the other one went. Ryder's hopeless. I asked him to buy me a pair of earrings, and he somehow lost one. Don't overthink it, Thea." Then, there's the third time, and the fourth time… Every time after that, one of his family members or friends would step in to defend him. The ninth time, I pull a pair of female panties from beneath his pillow. Holding them up in front of him, I ask softly, "Whose are these?" Ryder's fingers pause almost imperceptibly on the newspaper he's holding before he nonchalantly reaches for his phone. "Which one of you left your panties at my place?" On the other end of the line are my younger brother, Zane Thornton, and my best friend, Talia Stone. "Ryder? Talia must've left her panties over there. Sorry. You know what we're like during mating season. We can't control ourselves. Is Thea being paranoid again?" Talia's voice also sounds reproachful. "Thea, I really can't stand this anymore. How can someone like you be worthy of being the Luna?" When the call ends, Ryder flashes me an innocent look. "See? Can you stop doubting me now? How many times has this happened? If you keep making a scene, I think—" I cut him off with a smile. "Let's dissolve our mate bond." What he doesn't know is that the panties belong neither to his lover nor to Talia. I bought them myself and deliberately hid them under his pillow.

Everyone knew that whenever a daughter of the Holloway shipping dynasty got married, her family would launch a magnificent fleet of a hundred flower-decked ships to escort her to her wedding. The main ship carrying the bride was always decorated by her parents themselves. The more lavish the flowers, jewels, and ornaments, the more cherished the daughter was considered—and the more respect she'd receive from her husband's family. My bridal ship had been waiting for me for eight years. But over the course of eighteen wedding dates, every ceremony was ruined. Either my foster sister, Chloe Holloway, would "accidentally" smash a hole through the hull and leave it taking on water, or the sails would mysteriously snap just as the procession was about to depart. Before long, everyone believed I was nothing but a curse. After eighteen failed wedding dates, I decided to spend the night guarding the bridal ship myself. Instead, someone knocked me unconscious and threw me into the river. By the time I was pulled from the water and rushed to the wedding drenched from head to toe, the lead ship had already set sail. Chloe stood proudly at the bow while my parents raised the sails with their own hands, carrying her across the river to my fiance, Julian Sterling. The moment they saw me, my childhood friend, Mason Rowe, and my best friend, Natalie Hayes, blocked the entrance, refusing to let me through. Neither of them looked the least bit guilty. "We all planned the bride swap together," they admitted openly. "Make as much of a scene as you want. It won't change anything. "Chloe's parents died saving us. We owe it to her to fulfill her dream of getting married. Just be the bigger person." My brother, Ethan Holloway, looked at me with icy indifference. "Mom and Dad said that if you don't cause trouble today, we'll finally tell everyone you're not cursed. But if you insist on making a scene, don't expect to remain a member of this family. "And Julian made himself perfectly clear. If you ruin today's wedding, someone else will permanently be Mrs. Sterling." I clenched my fists so tightly my nails dug into my palms, refusing to let them see me cry. What Julian didn't know was that someone else had been waiting for me all along. He was never my only choice. And as for this family, I didn't want them anymore.

Jonas Kimball was the nation's youngest neurosurgery prodigy, a surgeon whose hands could perform the most delicate brainstem operations. Then his wife's savior shoved him, and those hands were ruined for good. Meanwhile, his wife, Leona Chalmers, was busy helping her savior, Bastian Northcott, ground a plane and commandeer medical resources. When it came to her husband's injury, she only shrugged. "He'll understand." Jonas suddenly went quiet. He stopped confronting her. When he was framed for pushing someone and the police asked him to contact his family, he calmly wrote down the name of his three-year-old son, Remy. Behind her back, he began applying for a visa, reaching out to the National Neuroscience Laboratory, and drafting divorce papers. That was before a bowl of scalding soup hit his face, before the car sent his son's small body flying, and before he held that cold little hand and heard Remy's final words. "Daddy, having you is enough." From Norhaven City to Genvère, from a shattered marriage to the stage of the International Medicine Prize, Jonas spent the rest of his life proving that even without her, he could still thrive.

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.

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."

At a party the night before Aiden and I are supposed to officially get engaged, someone starts a round of "Never Have I Ever." One of my fiancé's friends raises his glass. "Never have I ever gotten my fiancée's best friend pregnant before getting engaged." The room goes dead silent for a second. Then everyone bursts out laughing. I pretend I don't hear a thing and keep feeding my fiancé, Aiden Bassett, pieces of fruit like he's the only person in the room. Aiden takes a slow sip of his drink, then looks over at my best friend, Sharon Moore, his expression soft. "Sharon's always wanted a baby, but she never wants to get married. I just helped her out." Sharon looks away shyly. "Okay, enough. Renee's right here." My fingers tighten around my glass. That's when it finally hits me that they're talking about Aiden. The second his friends notice my reaction, they rush to smooth things over. "Renee, don't be upset. You're so good to Aiden. You're sweet, and you've always got everything handled. We just didn't want to keep this from you!" "Honestly, Aiden did you a favor too. If you're okay with it, you get a baby without ever having to go through pregnancy yourself. Sounds like a pretty good deal, doesn't it?" "Exactly. Sharon and Aiden have known each other forever. She's practically family." I don't cry or make a scene. I just smile, stand up, and give up my place beside my fiancé. What they don't know is that I only play the good girl when it benefits me. I'm not obligated to raise someone else's baby.

My mother is in the late stages of cancer. Yet, she sits in a wheelchair with an oxygen tube and endures a long train ride just to attend my wedding with Isaac Pudley. But when it's time for him to walk down the aisle, I don't see him anywhere despite screaming his name. It turns out his childhood sweetheart, Megan Ericsson, is having another depressive episode and is threatening suicide again. "Isaac, I can't live without you," she screeches. Isaac is always so stern and composed, but he now holds Megan in his arms and begs me to call off the wedding so they can leave. Relatives and guests watch the spectacle with thinly veiled amusement. To make matters worse, my mother is so angry that she faints. However, Isaac believes that my mother is feigning illness. He only wants to take Megan with him and leave. He even takes away my mother's wheelchair. But he seems to have forgotten that he has hurt me 97 times by now. After he hurts me 99 times, I’ll definitely leave him.

On my wedding day, my fiancé's first love walked in holding a little boy and named the groom as the child's father. My mother saw it, and her heart gave out. She died right there on the floor. The wedding collapsed and I went down with it, fainting in front of everyone. When I came to, my oldest friend, Lucian Graves, was sitting beside me. He held me tightly in his arms. He took care of all my mother’s funeral arrangements for me. When the reporters swarmed, he put himself between me and the cameras. He cleared my name over the wedding, and then he got down on one knee in front of everyone and asked me to marry him, swearing he would take care of me for the rest of my life. After marriage, we became the happiest couple in our circle. Then, on our first anniversary, I opened the chat history on his phone. "Don, thank God you set up that wedding disruption. My son and I are happy now." "You did get her mother killed, though. Don't blame yourself. She's the one who insisted on marrying a man who was never hers." The replies were from Lucian. "Nothing to blame myself for. It was just an accident." "As long as you're happy, there's nothing I won't do." The ground dropped out from under me, and the phone hit the floor.

My mother-in-law, Lillian Pierce, gets into a car accident and needs a liver transplant from my wife, Elena Prescott. However, she is busy playing a murder mystery game with her first love, Ethan Bennett. In my previous life, I forcibly drag her away from the game and bring her to the hospital for the liver transplant. No one could have foreseen the tragedy that would happen. During this time, Ethan crosses paths with a deranged serial killer and ends up dead in an alley. After his tragic end, Elena doesn't show any reaction to his passing—until the anniversary of his death. On that day, she locks me in the basement and slices the flesh off my body piece by piece. "If it weren't for you, Ethan would never have died. Go down there and apologize to him!" Her smile is sinister, a tell-tale sign of the madness that has consumed her. When I open my eyes again, I am back to the day when Lillian gets into an accident. This time, I do not force Elena to do the liver transplant. She saves Ethan but loses her mother forever.

The day before my wedding, my daughter and I got into a car accident. My daughter died instantly, and I was left with broken legs, condemned to spend the rest of my life in a wheelchair. When Spencer Ford found out, he rushed us to the hospital, his actions frantic, almost out of control. In the midst of my pain, I overheard a conversation between Spencer and his assistant. "The car's been disposed of. Lorelei will never find out that we tampered with it. But I'm compelled to ask… Rowena was your own daughter. Was it really worth it, losing her for Melanie? "When Rowena was dying, she was calling for you to save her… I could hardly bring myself to do it." Spencer remained silent for a long time, the tension in the air thick. Then he slowly exhaled a plume of smoke. "Melanie's pregnant. I won't let anyone compete with her child for the inheritance. And all of this is Lorelei's fault. She brought it on herself."

When Edna Crossby ditches the marriage registration for the fifth time, I block her contact number and social media accounts on the spot. If she's in any of the social gatherings, I turn down the invitations right away. I'd rather take the long route than walk past the cafe Edna frequents. If she attends a team-building session, I take the day off without hesitation. Even when Edna shows up on my doorstep with gifts in hand on Christmas Eve, I pretend that I'm not home at all. I don't answer any calls from her. I don't respond to texts she sends me. Just like that, I completely fade away from Edna's world. In the past, Edna used to be the focus of my life. My emotions fluctuated all the time because of her. When Edna flakes out on me for the fifth time, I finally snap out of my lovesick stupor. I don't want to live life like this anymore. Rather than getting abandoned time and again, I might as well live my life on my own happily.

The sixth time photos of him cheating surfaced, Leander Prescott snatched the knife from my hand and brought it down hard. Stroke by stroke, he carved the name "Seraphina Vale" into his thigh. "Happy now? Can you leave Celeste alone?" I stood frozen, staring at him as if I suddenly didn't recognize the man in front of me. For ten years, we had tortured each other over Leander's infidelity. Every time he crossed the line, I carved my name into his flesh. Wrist-cutting, kidnapping, even hanging Celeste Waverly from a helicopter to threaten her—every scar on his body had a bloody story behind it. He had never been this calm. … Seeing the confusion in my eyes, a flicker of tenderness passed through his hate-filled gaze. "Celeste is pregnant. As long as you promise you won't confront her again, you can carve as many marks into me as you want. "This is the ninety-ninth mark. Ninety-nine is a good number. Let's make things work between us from now on." My throat suddenly felt dry. "Make things work? Do you really mean that?" He looked at me with a mixture of pain and mockery. "Sincere?" "My body already belongs to you. Stop coveting what belongs to Celeste." Watching him close his eyes in numb resignation, I suddenly understood. Ninety-nine wasn't his way of saying he wanted to spend the rest of his life with me. It meant he had finally resigned himself to his fate. He was willing to sacrifice his entire life so that another woman and her bastard could live out the rest of theirs in peace. A bone-deep sorrow flooded my heart, chilling me to the core. A lifetime was too long. And suddenly, I no longer wanted to sacrifice mine for him.

Zane Mercer and I had grown up together. Both our families took it for granted that we would end up together after graduation. He never bothered to hide it, either. Whenever someone brought us up, he would say, “Vivian gets scared so easily. She can’t manage without me.” I believed him for over a decade. Until the first department dinner at college. The prettiest girl in our department carried her drink over and sat beside him, smiling as she asked, “I heard you have a childhood sweetheart. Is she your girlfriend?” Amid the teasing and excited chatter, my cheeks flushed. I waited for him to nod. But Zane hesitated. “No. She’s just the girl next door.” Someone nudged the girl beside him. “Then you’ve got a chance!” She smiled brightly. “I’ll be counting on you to look after me from now on.” Zane didn’t pull away. Instead, he smiled back. “Sure.” In that moment, I remembered how he’d worried about me getting sunburned during the summer camp and gone out in the middle of the night to buy me sunscreen. I remembered how he’d held my hand while we filled out our college applications and promised we’d keep walking through life together. So all those years of affection meant nothing compared to one smile from her. On the way back, he caught up with me to explain. “Selene’s pretty straightforward. I just didn’t want to embarrass her.” I asked, “So it’s fine to embarrass me instead?” He frowned. “Vivian, since when did you get so sensitive?” I said nothing more. That night, I changed all our photos to private. From then on, I would be nothing more than the girl next door.

Brody Lewis, my fiance, said that I had a rare form of transient global amnesia, which was a sudden, temporary memory loss. Every seven days, I would open my eyes and become the twenty-five-year-old Riley Taylor again. My memories were forever stuck in the past. In my pen drive were videos of Brody taking me on trips, bringing me for treatment, and proposing to me. Everything seemed great between us, but I remembered none of it. “Riley’s still around. Can’t you keep your hands to yourself?” “Don’t worry. It’s Monday tomorrow. After she wakes up, she’ll remember none of it,” Brody said, and my heart sank. “Isn’t this more exciting?” Brody embraced my best friend, and they made out brazenly in front of me. They were not shy about it at all. I wondered just how many times this had happened over the past two years. I ran as tears blurred my vision. When I arrived at a tattoo shop, I grabbed the tattoo artist like a drowning man holding on to a log. Then, I asked the tattoo artist to tattoo these words on my arm in my handwriting. [Leave him.]

At my engagement party, a female dog was sitting on my fiancee’s seat. Her guy best friend, Ryan Anderson, was holding the leash. “Bro, don’t take it personally. Your fiancee drank too much the night before at her bachelorette party, that’s why I’m letting her sleep in for a bit longer.” Everyone looked at me mockingly as they laughed. I felt as though someone had slapped me. All the guests had arrived, but Lily Smith showed up late. “It’s our engagement party today. Are you asking me to marry a dog?” I asked as I suppressed my anger. Lily grabbed Ryan’s sleeve and glared at me impatiently. “What are you talking about? Ryan saw that I was too tired, so he let me rest for a bit longer. Are you seriously offended? “As my fiance, you should be more understanding, like him!” It felt ridiculous and wrong to me. My heart sank as I stood up. “Fine, since he treats you so well, you should marry him then!”

In the seventh year of my engagement with Nathan Galloway, he has inherited everything from his dead older brother, including his newly widowed sister-in-law, Catherine Wilkins. Whenever Nathan is done sleeping with Catherine, he'll hug me and comfort me gently. "Just wait for a little longer, Jojo. Once Cathy gets pregnant, we'll have our own wedding." This is the Galloways' only condition for Nathan to inherit the family's assets. In the six months following his return to Ravelton, Nathan has visited Catherine's room 52 times. He initially started off with just one visit per month. But slowly, the visits have been increasing to the point that he now visits her once every two days. Finally, when I spend my 52nd sleepless night sitting in my room and waiting for Nathan's return, I receive the news of Catherine's pregnancy. But at the same time, the news of Nathan and Catherine's upcoming marriage breaks out as well. "Mommy, is someone getting married in this household?" As I stare at the wedding decorations in the villa, I just pull my son, Theo Huber, into a hug with a blank expression. "Yeah. Your daddy is about to marry the woman he loves. That's why it's time for us to move out." What Nathan doesn't know is that we Melshes couldn't care less about marriage.

Through seven years of secret marriage, I was nothing more than an obedient, tirelessly devoted assistant to Don Nathan Harrison. He walked the red carpet at high-profile galas with Susan Ferell, his business partner’s daughter. He booked an entire castle just to host an exclusive rose-themed banquet for her and spent millions at an auction to buy her a crown-jewel diamond necklace once owned by royalty. Their names dominated the headlines daily, dubbed by the Siciamira media as the ultimate power couple of high society. For the first time, I didn't make a scene or shed a single tear. Even when I found that royal diamond necklace intended for Susan tucked away in Nathan’s suit pocket, I simply pulled it out and quietly set it on the vanity. Nathan convinced himself that I had finally grown sensible and understood the overwhelming sacrifices he was making for our future. What he didn't know was that the world's top global syndicate had just tracked me down, crowning me as the sole heir to a century-old empire. And the signed divorce papers were already stamped, processed, and on their way from the courthouse straight to his front door.

My lawyer husband, Chester Stratton, and our five-year-old son were kidnapped. By the time I arrived, the bomb had already detonated, and they were reduced to ashes before my eyes. My older sister, a prosecutor, had tried to help me track down the culprit, yet even she was captured and tortured to death. Everyone said my ruthless methods had earned me too many enemies, that they had suffered because of me. They said I should have been the one to die. Even the Criminal Investigation Division stripped me of my position. For three years, I secretly hunted for the mastermind. Until one day, my investigation led me to a restaurant. There, I saw my husband, my son, and my sister—the three people who had supposedly died three years ago. They were all sitting together, celebrating a little girl's birthday. Friends and relatives surrounded them, smiling as though nothing had ever happened. Fury surged through me, and I was about to storm over and demand answers when my best friend grabbed me from behind, refusing to let go. "Audrey, I know you can't accept this, but they're husband and wife now. If you make a scene, how are you any different from a homewrecker? Phoebe got pregnant with Chester's child three years ago. Everyone knew how ruthless you could be. Faking their deaths was the only way they could escape you." Beside her, my mother fixed me with a warning look. "It's good that you found out. For the past three years, Phoebe and Chester have been forced to move from place to place with their two children. It broke my heart to watch them live like that. Now, their family of four is finally happy. If you just walk away, everyone will forgive you." The metallic taste of blood filled my mouth. I looked at the people before me and laughed until tears streamed down my face. So Chester and my sister had never died. While I had spent the past three years drowning in grief, they had been living peaceful, happy lives. And everyone had known the truth. Everyone had conspired to keep it from me.

My husband, Jasper Anderson, never showed up for any of our daughter's activities and events. He said that there were thousands of employees relying on him for a living, so he had no time for what he called children's games. Still, he made an exception for Sadie performing Swan Lake for the first time. "I'll be seated in the front row." He promised her sincerely. The show had already been going on for ten minutes, yet his seat remained empty. I tried to call him many times in the lobby. My mother-in-law, Beatrice Anderson, said, "Jasper went to the airport to pick up a client. His phone ran out of battery. Stop calling and pestering him." Jasper's younger brother, Kai Anderson, said, "Jasper's car broke down on the highway. I'm on my way there to help him." Jasper's assistant, Vincent John, went as far as sending me a photo of the meeting room. "Mr. Anderson had to stay back at work due to a stakeholder. He'll head over immediately once the meeting's over." Sadie held my hand through the curtain and whispered, "Mommy, don't be angry. Daddy must be very busy at work." Everyone was trying to prove to me that his absence was not his fault. However, they did not know that I was standing outside the multipurpose hall, watching Jasper inside. He was hugging another woman's son as they stood in the middle of the award podium. That woman, Dakota Reid, smoothed Jasper's collar before she stood on her tiptoes to kiss his cheek. The emcee laughed and asked the young boy, Xander Reid, whom he wanted to thank the most today. Xander hugged Jasper and said with his boyish voice, "Thank you, Daddy!" I suddenly felt that he no longer deserved a place here. Not just in the theater, but in our lives too.