Hypocrisy Romance 단편 소설 & Face Slapping 소설

On the 999th day of our relationship, Declan Fletcher took a photo of the half-empty cup of my coffee and posted it in the group chat, deducting 20 points from my score. There were only three people in the chat group—me, him, and my cousin Rachel Black. He circled the 28-dollar bill, his tone sounding like he was judging a thief who stole money. Declan: [Sonia Golding, I've said before, splitting the bills 50-50 doesn't mean you get to take advantage of me. If you really want to marry a regular guy, you'd better stop spending money like a gold digger. Declan was my boyfriend for three years. He was also the poor kid I thought was struggling with family debt, a seriously ill mother, and who could not even afford a new shirt. That was why I paid half of the rent, half of the water and electricity bills, and even secretly covered half of the caretaker fee for his mother's hospitalization. He set up a relationship point system for me. One minute late: -5 points. Ordering an expensive dish: -10 points. Expecting a gift on a holiday: -30 points. I spent three years racking up points just to go from 'not marriage material' to 'worth considering'. However, he never once counted the cost when it came to Rachel. If Rachel wanted expensive food, he would treat her. If she wanted to visit an island for Independence Day, he would book two first-class tickets that very night. It was not until today that his driver accidentally delivered a prenuptial agreement to me instead of him that I realized Declan was not penniless. He owned three properties and two companies. The handbags he bought for Rachel cost enough to cover my rent for three years. It turned out that splitting the bill 50-50 was not his principle but a calculated move to filter out the women who genuinely cared. That evening, he transferred 28 dollars to me for drinks. The remark read: [Cover any unnecessary expenses yourself.] I accepted the money and sent him a breakup bill in return. Sonia: [I've lost out over these past three years. I'm done with you.]

I spent three years on a medical aid mission in Afrikad. During that time, my husband and I could only video call twice a year. In our third year, I missed him so much that I secretly flew home, hoping to surprise him. The moment I opened the front door, I froze. A wedding portrait I had never seen before hung in the living room. In the photo were my husband and another woman. Then, I heard a burst of chatter. As I looked closer, I realized the plants in the house had started talking again. The pothos stretched its vines toward the living room. “She’s back! She’s back! That woman is wearing the doctor’s pajamas again!” The spider plant snickered, “She claimed they were a gift from her best friend last week. That old hag comes up with a new story every few days.” The cactus grumbled, “Quit arguing. She’s bringing that other man over for dinner today. How do you think she’ll explain this to her husband this time?” The pothos replied, “She’ll probably call him her cousin. That’s what she said last time.” Just then, a woman walked out carrying a child. She was startled for a moment when she saw me. “Who are you?” I gave her a faint smile. “I'm Justin's mother.”

In my sixth year as a body diver, I finally tracked down my son's body. My husband had just come back from the construction site. That was when he calmly told me the truth. "Asher never died. I was the detective who lied and told you I couldn't find him. "I was also the city's richest man—the one who refused to pay your ransom to save him. "I never went bankrupt, either. Every time I told you I was off hauling bricks at some construction site, I was really just back at the mansion, hiding from the smell of the dead on your skin." It hit me like a blow to the head. I stood there, numb. My brother, Rick Forrest, was the one who spoke next. "That best friend you've been pouring your heart out to online this whole time—that was me. I'm also the one who made you think you'd gotten the kidnappers angry and gotten your son killed. "That's not all. Our parents didn't die in that kidnapping, either. The truth is, they were the kidnappers." Cold flooded through me. Not until I saw my parents standing there, alive, did the pain finally tear a sound out of me. "Why—" My parents' brows furrowed, distant. "It's because you made such a scene! You knew Valerie's position as a false heiress was already humiliating enough, and you still let her get into that car accident that left her unable to have children. "You owe her this much. As long as you stop going after Valerie, we can still be a family." I stood frozen where I was. Right as the pain peaked, a long-unheard chime sounded in my mind—the System, back after all this time. [Host, do you wish to abandon this redemption mission and leave this world?]

After being reborn, I decided to write my sister's name on the marriage application. This time, I would help Sebastian Holt achieve his wishes. In this lifetime, I took the lead—I let my sister wear the wedding dress first and put the engagement ring on her finger. I personally orchestrated every encounter between Sebastian and my sister. When he took her to the capital city, I headed to Southport University without a second thought. In my previous life, even when I was over 50 years old, he and our son still knelt before me, begging for a divorce. This time, I would fulfill his final romantic destiny with my sister. Living this second life, all I wanted was to spread my wings and soar high, free from love's entanglements.

My younger sister, Noelle Lynch's 18th birthday wish is to personally give me the wedding bouquet at my wedding. That's why throughout the five years of Noelle getting tormented by polio, the sentence that I utter to my fiance, Jeremy Morgan, the most is, "Wait a little longer." I want to wait till Noelle is fully recovered and can give me the wedding bouquet. Only when that time comes will the wedding be held. At first, Jeremy keeps arguing with me over this matter. "You're marrying me, not Noelle! Is it that important for her to attend our wedding? My mom really wants us to have a child! If we're not getting married by this year, then we might as well break up!" Things between us have soured since that day. When Noelle finally recovers from polio at the end of the year and wins the pageant as Miss Global Winner, I specifically give myself a long vacation. Then, I secretly contact the wedding planning company in hopes of moving the wedding date forward. But the staff member asks me in shock, "Didn't Mr. Morgan hold his wedding last month?" She even digs out the backup video from the wedding on her computer. In the video, Jeremy can be seen wearing a white suit. With red-rimmed eyes, he slides a ring onto the bride's finger. Shockingly enough, this bride is Noelle, the very same person who keeps claiming that I'm her salvation. I feel as though I've plunged into an icy abyss. Subconsciously, I log into Noelle's social media account. The first thing I see is a barrage of messages from Jeremy. "Honey, I already told her that I'd go on a business trip for a month. We'll meet up at the airport right on time. "By the way, remember to bring the black lace stockings that I've given you. I'm already looking forward to seeing you wearing them…" I clutch my phone tightly at the sight of the messages. Then, I hail a cab and rush to the airport immediately.

At the party, my daughter deliberately raises a question to my husband. "Daddy, since Ms. Lloyd is having your baby, does that mean we'll be living with her in the future?" He places the nicely cut steak onto my plate and answers softly, "Your mommy and I made a deal—whoever betrays first will disappear from the other's life. I can't afford for that to happen, darling, so this must stay a secret. Even when the baby is born, I will never let Mommy find out about them." Then, he signs to me, "I'll always love you." My eyes turn red-rimmed without him noticing. Little does he know, my hearing was restored a week ago. He doesn't realize I've learned about the mistress he's been hiding either. And he definitely doesn't know I've secretly bought a ticket to volunteer-teach in the Seru Plateau. All I have to do is wait for the paperwork to clear in seven days. Then, I'll disappear from his life for good.

I'm an orphan, and I spend all my free time volunteering at a nursing home. The elderly residents there feel sorry for me because I have no family, so they all treat me like their own granddaughter. Thanks to them, I have a pretty good life. That all changes when Jenna Olsen, the most popular girl in our department, uses her family's connections to take the spot I'd earned as one of Beyton University's top students. In front of the entire class, she tears my application to shreds and throws the pieces straight into my face. "Do you think an orphan like you can compete with me for this spot?" She pinches her nose and takes two steps back, looking at me with open disgust. "You spend all your time hanging around a bunch of old people who are practically on their deathbeds. You reek of old people! "You'd better know your place. Even if you take this all the way to the dean, no one is going to stand up for you." She folds her arms and gives me a mocking laugh. I bend down and pick up the torn pieces of my application, not bothering to say a word. What she doesn't realize is that the old people she looks down on are far more powerful than she could ever imagine. The old man I play chess with, Mr. Otis Larsson, is a former governor who once wielded enormous influence in the state. The old lady who dances with me, Ms. Nancy Jacoway, is a recently retired senior official at the Department of Education. Even Mr. David Wadsworth, who never stops trying to feed me snacks, is powerful enough to make the entire city of Beyton sit up and take notice.

My mom and I work our butts off in order to clear Gregory Hudson, my boyfriend's crippling debt. Because of that, Mom even contracts lung cancer. But when I rush to the hospital to pay off the hospital bills, I find out that she's already taken her life by hanging herself. All she leaves is a suicide note. "I can't hang on anymore, Hailey. You should use the money to pay off the debt. Gregory is a good man. I know he loves you; it's just that he's stepped down the wrong path. "Once the debt is cleared, both of you should stay together and live a good life." After collecting Mom's ashes in an urn, I entrust the 300 thousand dollars—the money that Mom has earned with her blood, sweat, and tears—to Gregory. When I return to the company, I accidentally overhear the conversation between Gregory and a few of his debtors. "Mr. Hudson, Ms. Jackman has already passed all of your trials so far. What other arrangements do you have for her?" Gregory's childhood friend, Sophia Wagner, suddenly speaks up. "Even though Hailey can endure all the suffering with you, we still need to test if she can still handle living a good life with you." Gregory purses his lips. "Next, I'd like to know if Hailey's love for me is pure and sincere. If she doesn't pine for my wealth and doesn't become materialistic after finding out about my identity, I will marry her." As I look down at Mom's ashes, I can't help sobbing like a lost child. Both my mom and I are wrong about Gregory. I don't want to marry him anymore.

I was the A-list celebrity in the country, the youngest actor ever to win all three major acting awards, and the man Monroe family's heiress treasured above everyone else. Zara Monroe had not only founded a talent agency dedicated to promoting me alone, but had even set aside her status as the heiress of the Monroe family to work as my personal assistant for love. Everyone in the industry knew that crossing me meant crossing the Monroe family. Yet no one could have imagined that in the latest S-tier film production, the male lead I had been all but guaranteed to play would be snatched away by an obscure actor barely known beyond the industry's bottom tier. People across the industry all placing bets on how long it would take before Zara had this newcomer, Kyson Bentley, blacklisted across the entire industry. But instead of a public takedown, they got an official announcement from Monroe Media. [Welcome to our company's second signed artist, @Kyson Bentley! Mr. Bentley will be partnering with Monroe Media from here on out. His future is full of promise.] The entire industry was shaken. Everyone mocked me for having fallen out of favor. The award-winning actor himself was now expected to play second fiddle to a newcomer. On set, I watched Kyson deliver a painfully amateurish performance. My face cold, I followed the and slapped him using a camera angle that made it look as though I had hit him. But Kyson clutched his cheek and fell to the ground, accusing me of using the scene to get revenge on him. Zara ordered her people to pin me down and made the production team add a hundred more slapping scenes to my schedule. By the time they were done, I had been slapped until I lost my hearing in my right ear. My face was so swollen that I was barely recognizable.

On the day I return to court in triumph, my fiancee, Isabel Hartwell, welcomes me at the city gates. My career is flourishing, and I'm about to marry the woman I love. As far as I'm concerned, my life can't be more perfect. A victory banquet is held in my honor. By the time I'm pleasantly buzzed, Isabel's mother, Katherine Mercer, raises her glass to me with a smile. "Nicholas, my daughter has waited three long years for you. Now, you're finally back!" The entire room bursts into laughter. My ears burn as I search for Isabel through the crowd of guests raising their glasses. She lowers her head, trying to hide her smile. Perhaps sensing my gaze, she looks up. Our eyes meet, and hers crinkled with delight. My heart skips a beat. I quickly lower my head and take a drink to hide my embarrassment, only to nearly choke on it. My fellow soldiers immediately begin teasing me. Even my younger half-brother, Stephen Aldridge, leans over with a smile. "Congratulations, Nicholas. You'll soon be the Hartwells' son-in-law. When you make it to the top, don't forget to help me out." I ruffle his hair, warmth filling my chest. My career is thriving, the woman I love will soon be my wife, and I share a close bond with my family. What more can I possibly ask for? Then, I look up and freeze. A golden prophecy appears out of nowhere, hovering in midair. "In two hours, Stephen will be found lying beside Isabel with his clothes in disarray. Everyone will catch them in a compromising position. Isabel will be forced to marry Stephen, and she'll eventually succumb to depression and die." I sober instantly as a chill sweeps through me. After all, Stephen is none other than my younger half-brother, who has just raised a toast to me.

I spent seven years drafting divorce papers for other people. I never expected that the ninety-ninth agreement would be my own. That night, my husband, Carter, lost a tabletop game during a live stream with his childhood sweetheart, Chloe. The penalty was to give up the thing he treasured most. Chloe smiled at the camera, tapping his wedding ring. "Lend me your marriage for a day." The comment section blew up. Carter looked at me like he was giving orders to an assistant. "Evelyn, you know the drill. "Sign a temporary divorce agreement. I’ll cancel it with you tomorrow morning." Chloe lowered her eyes, her voice trembling. "Forget it. She won't let you. You always choose her over me anyway." I reached into my bag and touched the positive IVF result. Seven years of hormone shots. Four miscarriages. I didn't even have the energy to tell him anymore. As the camera zoomed in on my face, I pushed the papers back across the table. "Carter, this time, I’m putting down a bet, too. “I bet the thing you lose tonight isn't just me.”

When my husband, Austin Hart, and I participated in the earthquake disaster relief, he discovered the corpse of his first love, Stacy Deleon, in the collapse zone. That night, Austin left a suicide note behind before jumping off the building with our son, Clifford Hart, in order to reunite with Stacy in the afterlife. Only then did I realize that both Austin and Clifford never cared about me, to begin with. When I was reborn, I returned to the moment when Austin first asked for a divorce. This time, I agreed to the divorce immediately. I even gave the custody of the three-year-old Clifford to Austin right away. Five years later, we meet again at an auction. Austin laces fingers with Stacy while taking Clifford's hand with the other. He mocks me, "It's only been five years, Kendra. You're really that shameless now, huh? You can't wait to latch onto me again now that you've found out I'm here!" Clifford mocks me as well. "Mom… Wait, you should be Ms. Powell to me now. You should stop pestering my dad already. My parents and I are living a very happy life right now." I just ignore them. Instead, I grab my daughter, Faye Gilmore, who has been sneaking food off the table, and steer her back to our seats. But Austin flies into a fit of rage instantly. A vein pops out of his hand, which is still laced with Stacy's fingers. "You really are shameless, Kendra Powell! We've only been separated for five years, yet you already have a daughter that old? I can't believe you're willing to resort to such despicable methods just to make me jealous! Which bastard did you have that bastard child with, huh?"

I'm born with a congenital heart condition. But when my illness flares up, my longtime boyfriend, Zeke Fulton, doesn't try his best to save me. On the contrary, he forces me to sign over my shares while I'm in agony. Then, he stands by and watches as the pain rips through me. I end up dying on that hospital bed. Thankfully, I'm given a second chance at life. I'm reborn on the very last day of filling out college applications. This time, I don't fall for Zeke's sweet talk. I turn my back on him and run straight into the arms of my childhood friend, Hugo Lodge. Hugo wraps me up in his embrace, his lips brushing against the side of my neck. He says, "Elisa, come to Joslin University with me."

On the anniversary of my daughter's death, I came across an anonymous post on my way home from visiting her grave. The title read: [I Sacrificed My Own Daughter to Make It Up to My First Love.] I opened it without much thought, but my eyes stopped on the third line. "My brother-in-law is my first love. Circumstances kept us apart back then, and I always felt I owed him." "Three years ago, my daughter was hospitalized with a cold. To save my brother-in-law's daughter, who had a congenital heart condition, I deliberately fed my daughter peaches, knowing she was allergic. Then I had her heart transplanted into my niece." A shudder ran through me. My daughter died from an allergic reaction to peaches three years ago. I quickly scrolled down. The post was ten minutes old, and the IP location showed it came from my city. I immediately opened the comments. Someone challenged the poster: "How could you possibly fake a death? Do you own the hospital or something?" The poster replied instantly: "I have connections. The deputy department head on duty that night was my best friend." My hand shook, and I nearly dropped my phone. My wife, Gwen Sinclair, was best friends with the deputy head of pediatrics at Westbridge General Hospital back then.

Ethan Caldwell came back to our village for the Harvest Festival, bringing his fiancée from the city. Everyone in the village said he was born lucky. He'd been kidnapped as a child and later found by wealthy relatives, and now he was a man of standing. When he saw me under the old locust tree, he paused for just a second. "Nora? You're still not married?" His fiancée immediately tightened her grip on his arm, smiling sweetly. "Ethan, who's this?" Ethan answered coolly. "Just a neighbor from when I was a kid." I froze for a second and almost laughed out loud. Back then, the traffickers had dumped him in a ravine in the hills, and I followed the sound of his crying until I found him. To lead those men away, I rolled down a slope and broke my left leg. When he woke up, all he remembered was a little girl who'd given him half a honey cake. He never knew that girl had been left disabled for life. I did try to explain, later. He said, "Chloe's too kind to lie. Nora, don't try to take credit for something like this just to get close to me." During the harvest bonfire, he hung the silver pendant his fiancée had given him on the old locust tree, saying it was to thank the girl who'd saved his life all those years ago. My dad stood at the back of the crowd, his eyes wet. "Nora, do you want me to go talk to him?" I watched Ethan gently drape his jacket over someone else's shoulders, and suddenly, I let it all go. "No need. "He's looking for the girl who saved him. Not me."

I was twenty-two that year, and I'd been in love with Brandon Aker for five years. I thought it was the best-kept secret I'd ever had. Until our graduation dinner, when someone brought up the girl who was always hanging around him. He turned to look at me, then smiled and looked away again. "Oh, her? I ended up accepting her. She's pretty entertaining." The entire table burst into laughter. The soup in front of me had gone cold. The one who stopped the waiter was Sloan Hastings. "She hasn't had any yet. Could you heat it up, please?" Some people accepted you simply because they thought you were amusing. I wasn’t a joke. I just realized it far too late.

After three years of pursuing Patrick Doyle, he finally agrees to marry me. During the ceremony, while we are exchanging rings, he suddenly pulls out his gun and presses the muzzle against my dad, Jacob Walker's, head. "Damn you, you evil drug dealer! You killed my mentor, badge number 66205. Put down your gun and surrender. I'll let you live." As soon as he finishes, his sister, Lena Doyle, screams. It startles Patrick, and he fires without hesitation. A bullet pierces through Dad's forehead, and his body crashes down into a pool of blood. His eyes remain wide open even in death. My white wedding dress is soaked through with blood. Just like that, my family is shattered. I go from being a wealthy heiress in Hinton to the daughter of a criminal. Patrick gets his honors while my family lies in ruins. He looks at me in his uniform, his eyes cold. "Ariana Walker, your dad may be a criminal, but you're innocent. We're married now. I'll ask them to go easy on you." I look down and hold tight to the badge Dad left behind. Who's really guilty here?

On the third day after our divorce was finalized, my ex-wife, Georgie Anderson, sent me a text message. [Why haven’t you transferred your salary from this month to me?] I thought she was joking. [We’re already divorced.] [So? What does it matter if we’re divorced? You should transfer nineteen thousand dollars from your twenty-thousand-dollar income, just like you did before. The remaining one thousand dollars will be your pocket money. When you were unemployed, I was the one who took care of you. Now that we’re divorced, you’re turning your back on me?] I stared at her text messages and fell silent for a really long time. Throughout our three-year marriage, I gave her nineteen thousand dollars out of my twenty-thousand-dollar salary. She was responsible for "budgeting" our household expenses. However, she spent my money on her civil service exam, afternoon teas with her besties, and even on her study partner, whom I’d never met. As for me, I handled all the house chores—cooking dinner, mopping the floors and doing the laundry. But when I took a little time after work to game, she would yell at me for being lazy. She was demanding money from me even after we were divorced. Her reason was that I might spend the money without thinking. I blocked her number. Three seconds later, she sent me a text message from another phone number. [You’ll regret this. I’m trying to help you one last time.] I laughed. ‘Helping me?’ I thought. Nobody had ever helped me in the past three years.

I'd lost count of how many times Ethan had turned me down when I asked to stay the night at his place. "Ethan, you're no fun at all." I grumbled. The day before, I'd noticed someone had left a mark by my front door, the kind that flags a woman living alone. It scared me, so I went to Ethan and asked if I could crash at his place for a few days. He said no. "I'll book you a hotel room for tonight." When he saw I was upset, he softened. "I just don't want to give up my own space this soon." "Give me a little time to get used to the idea, okay?" Three years together, and no matter how late our dates ran, he always drove me home. He never once asked me to stay. I wasn't happy about it, but I nodded and let it go. It wasn't that late yet, so I suggested we catch the new movie that had just come out. Ethan checked the time instead and hurried me off to the hotel, a little on edge. Alone in the room, I happened to scroll past the social media of a new coworker. "AC's broken at my place. Thank God I've got someone to run to, or I'd melt." The photo behind the caption showed the TV wall in Ethan's living room. My stomach dropped. I stared at the picture for a long time. By the time I came back to myself, my face was wet with tears. Then I slid off the engagement ring Ethan had given me. A love with something rotten stirred into it wasn't a love I wanted anymore.

My boyfriend gave me away to his arch-nemesis because he lost a bet. On the same night, I was driven to his arch-nemesis’ house. Before leaving, he expressed remorse, “Anya, just bear with it for a bit. I will come to pick you up in a month.” That night, the man pinned me to the bed and started unbuttoning my shirt. As he traced his cold fingertips against my collarbone, he said, deep and seductively, “So that’s the scumbag you fell for? Why don’t you be with me instead? I can give you everything you want.” I leaned forward and kissed him right away. “Sure.”