Hypocrisy Romance 단편 소설 & Karma 소설

I went to the bank to report a lost debit card. The teller casually asked, "Sir, there's a recurring patent royalty payment under your name. Would you like to link it to your new card?" Stunned, I froze. "What patent royalties?" The screen revealed that one of the accounts showed a quarterly deposit of $300 thousand in patent royalties. My mind went blank for a full three seconds. Then I remembered that, five years ago, my wife, Danica Pearson, had handed me a stack of documents, saying it was part of the company registration process. She said I "only understood technology, not business", effectively turning me into a figurehead consultant. I took a deep breath and told the teller, "Link it to the new card. From now on, transfer every payment directly to my personal account." That night, while Danica was overseas on a business trip, she booked the earliest flight home. At 2 a.m., she pounded on my bedroom door.

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.

The day my husband, Reece Malcolm, reached the pole for his polar expedition, his childhood sweetheart who was sent away reappeared in his bedroom. Everyone had kept it from me. Erica Lowell had been by his side day and night. Though Reece said he didn't want her there, he still allowed her to stay by his side for four years as his assistant. "You have to believe me, Lucy. There's nothing between Erica and me," he used to say. Always so sure. Always so convincing. But when he returned, it was with Erica in his arms—heavily pregnant. "She threatened to kill herself, Lucy. I didn't have a choice," he said. "The baby's coming. I need you to raise it. You know you're the only one I've ever loved." Four years. Four years of silence, of waiting alone in a house that never felt like home. Now, the lawyer is hired. The assets are tallied. The divorce papers are signed and sealed. I'm done.

When my boyfriend, Mark Jamison, gets in a car accident that leaves him paralyzed, I pawn the ring my mother left to me before she died to help him. With hands that have never been used to do any work or a single household chore in my life, I start lugging around delivery bags. In the middle of a rainstorm, I get assigned to deliver a food order worth 10,000 dollars, with a 100-dollar tip. Just as I happily celebrate my luck, I overhear the raucous laughter coming from inside the villa. "She actually believes you got paralyzed in a car accident? She now spends all day doing deliveries just to support you financially? She even sold off her dead mom's ring?" "She'd probably cry her heart out if she ever finds you're actually a wealthy scion worth tens of billions of dollars, who's just pretending to be poor!" Mark twirls the wineglass he's holding and says, "A lowly woman like her was born to wait on others. She brought it upon herself by always being better than Rosie back in school. Messing with her is the punishment she deserves." I continue to stand in the rain, tears rolling down my cheeks. This is how I find out Mark has spent the last two years faking his condition just to help his childhood sweetheart get back at me. His so-called paralyzed legs, deceased parents, and helpless tears are all just part of a meticulously executed lie. I haven't talked to my father, the richest man in town, for years. But now, I have finally decided to call him. "I lost, Dad. I'll accept the marriage alliance and marry the guy you picked for me."

My husband sponsored a poor female college student. While I was being dragged into an alley by a criminal, he was helping her pick out lingerie. While I was hospitalized with serious injuries, he used the money my mother left me to buy her a limited-edition handbag. I confronted him in a heated argument, but he accused me of being unreasonable. "I thought your injuries were so serious, but look—you didn’t even die! Besides, your money is my money. I’ll spend it however I want!"

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.

"Miss Jackson, are you certain you want to undergo hypnosis? You should know that once the hypnosis begins, it cannot be reversed. Your body will be controlled by an alternate personality, and you will fall into a sleep from which you will never wake up again," the doctor asked in a grave tone from the other end of the phone. "Yes, I'm certain," Nina Jackson replied calmly.

There's an earthquake. I'm trapped underneath the debris with another young woman. "This woman's chest has been pierced by a steel bar. We have to save her immediately." The rescuers start to approach me when my husband, Quintus Ford, suddenly darts in the other direction. "She's pregnant! Save her first!" I look at him to see him staring at the other young woman in panic. He doesn't know I'm pregnant, too. The doctor who's trying to stop my bleeding shouts, "I can't stop her bleeding! I suspect she has a blood clotting disorder!" I force myself to nod and look at Quintus desperately. However, he says, "I'm her husband. I'll bear the responsibility if anything goes wrong."

At my wedding, a video of my fiancé cheating was exposed. I didn't make a scene; just turned around and walked away, left him to clean up the mess himself. I went back to my room and kissed my younger boyfriend. We were halfway through when we got interrupted. My fiancé stormed in, face red with shame and rage. "Is this really the time? All you can think about is kissing?" I smacked my lips, still savoring the moment. "Weren't you the one who introduced us?"

On my husband's birthday, I poured my heart into preparing a feast and selecting the perfect gift. Yet, he didn't come home. Instead, I received a picture message—a snapshot of him at the hospital, standing outside the OB-GYN ward, his hand resting tenderly on his childhood crush's belly. Beneath the photo, a message read: [The best birthday gift and a symbol of our decade-long bond.] Furious, I called her. "Don't you know he's married?" Before I could say more, my husband snatched the phone and lashed out at me. "Yvonne just wanted to share the joy of becoming a mother. Why are you overreacting? "Yvonne and I have been best friends for over a decade. Your petty jealousy is disgusting!" I once believed his busyness was for our future, but now I knew—he had been busy supporting the girl of his dreams through her pregnancy. Clutching my own stomach, I bit my lip to stop the tears from falling. Ten years of love had drained away. It was time to let go.

I used to be so happy with my husband, Ian Shaw, until his first love got too drunk one day and was taken away by five strange men for an entire night. To protect her reputation, he told everyone that I was the one who was kidnapped that night. Everyone criticized me, calling the baby in my belly a child of shame. I questioned Ian hysterically, but he said nonchalantly, "Ruby isn’t married yet. People will laugh at her if the news spreads." I looked icily at the man I had loved for six years, shock taking over as I realized he had probably never loved me back.

On my wedding day, my fiancé’s childhood sweetheart arrived, wearing the exact same custom wedding dress as me. They stood together, greeting guests, while I smiled and praised them as a match made in heaven. Humiliated, she left the venue in tears. In her defense, my fiancé publicly accused me of being petty and unreasonable. After the wedding reception, he left with her for the honeymoon we had planned together. I didn’t cry. Instead, I called my lawyer immediately.

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.]

After giving my son, Cameron Spencer, one of my corneas, he had a memory distortion and confused me for his father's childhood sweetheart, Joanna Lister. Such dreadful news caused me to be in so much pain that I refused to wake up. However, during the time that I was semiconscious, I heard my son and my husband's conversation. "Dad, does this mean Joanna will keep me company in the future?" "Yes, it does. You've put on a great act, son!" My attending surgeon couldn't stand their heartlessness and said, "Mr. Spencer, your son’s eyes are fine, but you lied to Mrs. Spencer in order for her to donate her cornea for Ms. Lister. If Mrs. Spencer finds out, I'm afraid..." "There's nothing to be afraid of. She loves Cameron and me so much and she's an orphan as well. There's nowhere she could go after leaving us. Joanna's all alone in this city and she's almost gone blind. We can't waste any more time!" I lay on the bed as my hopeless tears soaked the pillow. All they cared about was Joanna. But what they didn't know was that I was dying due to the operation.

Maya Beckham was Oscar Francis's first love. After four long years abroad, she had assumed any feelings he once held for her had turned to dust. Yet when she returned to Elminas, he proposed. Everyone swore Maya was the love of his life—his one true love, his everything. Touched beyond words, she finally gathered the courage to say yes. …Until the day she discovered Oscar secretly marrying her half-sister, Diana Beckham. She stormed toward him like a woman possessed, her voice trembling with rage. "Explain." Oscar met her fury with infuriating calm. "You vanished without a word four years ago. Diana stayed. Now she's dying—this is her last wish. How could I refuse?" Maya's lips curled into a faint, unreadable smile. What Oscar didn't know? She was the one diagnosed with a difficult illness back then. Later, Maya got into an accident and forgot Oscar entirely. Oscar broke down. Day after day, he pounded on her door like a madman, begging her to remember.

The night before her wedding, Morgan Hayes was hit by a car while trying to save Sebastian Cole. She was thrown into the air, suffering multiple fractures, and her face was severely disfigured from the impact. Despite her injuries, Sebastian didn’t turn away from her. He still married her and continued to cherish and protect her as he always had. Everyone said Sebastian loved her more than life itself, that his love for her went beyond superficial appearances. She once believed that too until half a month ago when she discovered he was having an affair with their housemaid.

Maynard Hansen planned a luxury birthday cruise for Darlene Thompson, but the cruise ship capsized when a violent storm swept in without warning. Without hesitation, Maynard gave the last seat on the lifeboat to Darlene. As I struggled in the water, my son, Waldo Hansen—whom I carried for nine months and gave birth to—cried out, "Don't let Mom up! She'll push Ms. Thompson off." Clutching nothing but a broken plank, I somehow made it to shore. By the time I collapsed on the sand, I was frozen, exhausted, and done. I had never felt so alone. Shortly after, I found myself clutching a diagnosis of severe depression in my hand. I was ready to bring this wretched life to a quiet end. But when my husband and son realized I truly didn't want to live anymore, they collapsed into tears. They wrapped their arms around me as they sobbed, "Please don't leave us. We really can't live without you."

"Hi there, I'd like to emigrate." Christina stood at the counter and handed over the neatly prepared documents to the clerk on the other side of the glass. The clerk quickly stamped each page. The red ink spread like tiny ripples on still water. Then, without looking up, he pulled out another form and passed it back to her. "Ma'am, your paperwork will be processed in fifteen days." Christina nodded, turned on her heel, and headed for the exit. But before she could step outside, whispers trailed after her. "Did I see that right? Mrs. Waldorf is applying for emigration? Did she have a squabble with Mr. Waldorf?" "Even if they argued, would it go this far? Mr. Waldorf practically worships her. What could possibly make her leave so decisively?" "Exactly. Five years ago, their wedding was the event of the century. Even someone like me, who barely goes online, heard about it. And three years ago, after her car accident, the blood bank ran out of stock. Mr. Waldorf ignored everyone's objections and nearly drained himself to save her. Then, just last year, when she disappeared for an hour, he mobilized every media outlet worldwide to find her. Now she's leaving without a word—won't that drive him insane?" The murmurs swirled and lingered, but Christina only smiled faintly. Her expression was calm, but her eyes darkened with a bitterness that deepened with every step. Yes, she thought. Everyone knew just how much Lucien Waldorf loved her.

My sister and I are twins, and we both have kidney failure. After a long wait, we finally find two matching kidneys. The doctor is prepared to transplant one for me and one for her. However, she breaks down in tears in my fiancé's arms—she wants both kidneys for herself. When I object, my fiancé locks me up at home. He has my sister undergo surgery to have both kidneys transplanted. "You haven't been sick for as long as your sister has. She just wants to live like a normal person—how can you be so selfish? Can't you wait for the next matching kidney?" He doesn't know that I can't wait any longer, though. I'm going to die soon.

I find cigarette ashes on the passenger seat of my wife's car. She brushes me off, saying, "My new assistant left it there. He's not the most sensible." When I ask for a divorce, she stares at me in disbelief. "Just because of that?" "Yeah. Just because of that!"