Plot Twists Romance Short Stories & Hypocrisy Novels

After a night of passion, the amnesiac boyfriend I took in leaned back against the couch and watched me. My legs were still weak as I headed into the kitchen to prepare a meal for him. Halfway through cooking, he suddenly wrapped his arms around me from behind. After a moment of silence, he murmured, "Actually, I lied about having amnesia. I'm the heir to the Payne family." I burst out laughing. "Sure. And I'm the daughter of the richest man in the country." He pinched my cheek and laughed along with me. "I have a fiancee," he added. "I'm getting married tomorrow." Feeling me stiffen in his arms, he pulled out his phone and showed me a photo. "She's too possessive to tolerate another woman around me, so I ran away from home," he explained. "But the first time I saw you, I wanted you. It was purely physical. So, I faked amnesia just so I could stick around." I stared at the photo. Chandler Payne—the man I had been calling my boyfriend—was leaning into his fiancee, Sabrina Shaw. They looked like a perfect match. Tears streamed down my cheeks before I could stop them. Chandler sighed, pulling me tighter against his chest as he stroked my hair with that same doting touch. "Hey, don't cry," he said softly. "It's not like I have a choice either. My heart already belongs to her, but my body wants you. "It's just a marriage of convenience anyway. As long as we're careful not to get you pregnant, we can keep seeing each other." "So…" he paused, then asked, "It'll be dawn soon. Are you coming with me?"

It is the ninth time I bring up marriage with Shane Yardley, my boyfriend, and he finally gives in. "You know I don't believe in marriage. Do you really need a marriage certificate just to have peace of mind? Haven't I treated you well enough over the years to prove my sincerity, Jasmine?" Shane is truly wonderful. He is gentle, caring, and wealthy. He has never once complained even though I can't bear him any children. Those around envy how lucky I am to have such a great partner. He seems ready to give me everything aside from a marriage certificate. Shane wraps his arms around me after noticing my silence and tries to sweet-talk me. "If it means that much to you, I'll go with you to register our marriage tomorrow." Yet, when the next day comes, Shane suddenly tells me he has to leave on a business trip because something came up at work and rushes off. I watch him leave without saying a word. I suddenly notice the documents he left on the desk. I can't get through to him, so I have no choice but to bring them to the hotel where he's staying. Yet, the person the front desk calls down turns out to be a young pregnant woman instead. She rests her hand on her baby bump and smiles gently. "I'm Shane Yardley's wife. And you are?" I am shaken to my core. Shane rushes over before I can answer the young woman. He immediately steps in front of her, gestures toward me, and says, "I'd like you to meet Jasmine Quinton, m-my cousin."

On Halloween night, I went to pick up my husband after he had been drinking. As I reached the door, I heard someone inside asking about the wildest thing anyone had ever done. In his drunken haze, my husband muttered, “I’ve been living a second life behind my wife’s back. After Halloween, I’ll end things with the other woman, go back home for good, and try to make it up to her.” My heart sank, though I felt a small sense of relief that he was getting back on the right track. He continued, “After all, our two kids are just three years old. This is when they need their dad the most.” Everyone in the private room praised him for being responsible, saying that nothing was more precious than a reformed man. I stood frozen in place, because we had agreed not to have children when we got married. I was the “other woman”.

Damian Graves and I had been together for ten years, and he was perfect in every way. He was handsome, successful, and driven, except for one thing. He never missed a chance to cut me down. I placed second in the competition instead of first, and he said I "wasn't smart enough." I finally earned my first paycheck from writing, and he dismissed it as "completely worthless." Later, standing in the bridal shop, Damian looked me up and down in my wedding dress and told me my figure was not good enough, that I did not look anything like a bride should. Something in me snapped. For the first time in ten years, I screamed at him. "If I'm not good enough for you, why are you even marrying me?"

My mother-in-law, Kate Irwin, has a hood over her head and a time bomb strapped to her body. Ten seconds are left. My husband, Sean Quimby, could have saved his mother. As Efton's top bomb disposal expert, Sean could cut the right wire without breaking a sweat. Instead, he hands the wire cutters—the tool that will decide whether Kate lives or dies—to his sobbing intern, Yara Gibson. I watch as Yara cuts the wrong wire. The timer hits zero. A wall of flames engulfs Kate. The blast wave slams into me, but Sean's first instinct is to pull Yara into his arms. He even turns his back to shield her from the flying debris, gently soothing her. "Don't be afraid. I'm here." He doesn't even spare a glance at the charred remains behind him. Only after calming Yara does he finally turn to me. He sheds a few tears and says, "Wendy, I'm sorry. I couldn't save Dahlia." My mother, Dahlia Green, is overseas, enjoying the sun and beach. She sent me a photo just moments ago. So I put on a sympathetic face and comfort him, "It's okay." After all, my mother isn't the one who died.

I endured hundreds of injections just to give Stanley Brighton a child. He was moved to tears and held me, promising that even if we couldn't have children, he would love only me. I diligently followed the doctor's advice and underwent treatment. The day I confirmed my pregnancy, I was so excited that I wanted to rush home and share the good news with Stanley. But what awaited me was unimaginable. Stanley and the female tenant we shared the apartment with were lying naked together in the bathroom, sharing an intimate bath. He was behind her, holding her close, his lips incessantly biting at her earlobes. "I'll give you as many children as you want! Ten, eight—whatever it takes! Just divorce her!" "Alright, just give me some time. I'll divorce her for sure!" Hearing their whispered entanglement, I turned away, stepping into the rain, determined to leave. I would disappear to a place where Stanley could never find me, not in this lifetime.

A video proving that Zachary Groff, the fake scion, has set me up is exposed. Following that, my parents and fiancee, Leta Quinlan, stand firmly by me, offering me love and support. I hand the evidence to them, giving them full trust and authority to handle the matter. They tell me that Zachary died in a car accident after being chased out of the house, and I choose to believe them. But then, in the fifth year of my marriage, I have an unexpected encounter with Zachary, who should have already been dead. He is carrying a young girl in his arms while holding tightly onto Leta's hand. He says, "Leta, if not for you and my parents, I probably would have been locked up by Harvey Groff, that heartless man. "Thankfully, Mom and Dad destroyed the evidence and even opened a jewelry design studio for me. You even sacrificed your own marriage so that he doesn't suspect a thing. "Thank you for everything you've done these five years!" "Let's just say that I am making amends to Harvey on your behalf. I'm just glad that you and our daughter are happy and well." It turns out that the happy family, which I thought I had, is just a massive web of lies spun by my parents and Leta. My parents, my wife, and Zachary are the ones actually living happily as a family, while I am just a fool who spent the last five years being deceived. I no longer want to have love—whether familial or romantic—that is not solely mine.

Ryan Becker's favorite phrase was always, "Just wait a little longer." I waited two years for his startup to stabilize so we could get married. I waited another three years for his mother to warm up to the idea of a wedding. On the night of his 30th birthday dinner, his mother slipped her emerald bracelet off her wrist in front of everyone. Passing down the heirloom was their old tradition for recognizing a daughter-in-law. I thought that this time, finally, I wouldn't have to wait anymore. "Give me your hand, dear." Yet Aurelie Becker reached right past me and smoothly fastened the bracelet around Sabine Hansen's wrist instead. The entire room fell dead silent. She patted the back of Sabine's hand warmly. "Sabine grew up with Ryan. We're all one family here, no distinctions between us." My hands were still resting on the table, my fingertips turning cold. Someone whispered, "What about Miss Solis?" Ryan leaned in close, lowering his voice. "My mom is just being sentimental. Don't take it to heart. I'll bring you a custom necklace from my business trip next month. Just wait a little longer, okay?" Sabine lifted her wrist, flaunting it right in front of my face with a provocative smile. "Look, Eliza, isn't it beautiful? Aurelie says it's an old-mine emerald." "It's beautiful," I said simply. Just then, the phone inside my bag vibrated. It was a text message that read: [Have you made up your mind? When are you coming to Phaelis?]

I lived for racing, but my wife, Whitney Cross, supposedly got so motion sick that even a fast elevator ride could make her throw up. Whenever I suggested a drive along the winding mountain roads, she went pale and refused, claiming she was born with a balance disorder. Then a TikTok trend went viral, with guys posting videos of their girlfriends struggling with things that wouldn't faze most people. I joined in and posted a clip of Whitney dry heaving after a ride on a carousel. The comments quickly filled with sympathy. [She's so delicate! You'd better treat her like a princess.] But then a couple of comments caught my eye. [Hold on, isn't that Whitney Cross? The Queen of Suicide Mountain? She once broke two ribs while riding as Craig Fisher's navigator and still refused to get out of the car.] [Those two were practically inseparable in the underground racing scene. The moment Craig retired, Whitney vanished from the scene, too.] I stared at the screen as everything finally clicked. Whitney didn't get carsick. She just couldn't stand being in the passenger seat with anyone but Craig.

Sandra had never imagined that she would be left all alone on her wedding day. Ivy had always threaten to commit suicide due to her depression. As such, everyone would always try to please her. There was no exception even at Sandra's wedding. Sandra had had enough. She would not want to have any connection with her fiancé or her parents anymore. From now on, Sandra would only live her life for herself.

The year Leonard Jasper goes bankrupt, he takes a job as a butler at the Sullivan residence to make money. Wanting to help him shoulder his debts, I join him and take a job as a maid there. But when static from my cheap knitted shirt shocks Xandra Sullivan, the Sullivan family's eldest daughter, Leonard locks me in the shock room. "Honey, she's Ms. Sullivan. We're household staff. If I don't punish you, we'll both lose our jobs." He shuts the electrical cabinet door, giving me no chance to defend myself. After being shocked until I'm covered in purple bruises, I finally manage to crawl out of the shock room, only to find Leonard pinning Xandra against the wall, kissing her passionately. With a commanding edge to his voice, he says, "Lift your hips. You're soaking wet. Does role-playing feel this good?" With her earlobe between his teeth, Xandra says coyly, "You're having just as much fun, aren't you?" He silences the moans that follow with a kiss. When she speaks again, my heart turns cold. Xandra says mockingly, "She still doesn't know you're married, does she?" He frowns and smacks her on the butt. "Shut up and focus." "Don't forget, our marriage is nothing more than a marriage of convenience. She's the one I truly love. What right do you have to talk about her?" A bone-deep chill runs through me. So it turns out he isn't actually bankrupt. I'm nothing more than his kept woman. Heartbroken and disillusioned, I choose to leave. Yet Leonard spends the next three years desperately searching everywhere for me.

On the very day I underwent a vasectomy, Susan bought the designer tuxedo I had been eyeing for months. However, her next words struck me like a bolt of lightning. “Tomorrow is my baby’s sip-and-see. I need you looking your best.” The IV needle snapped right out of the back of my hand. With bloodshot eyes, I begged her to stop playing around. However, her face remained dead serious. “Choosing to be childfree back then was just a compromise because we were struggling. But now, I’m sitting on a multi-million dollar estate. I need an heir to inherit my fortune. My child will be your child, too. From now on, you will be the baby’s godfather.” In that exact moment, my vision blurred. “So, you pushed me to get a vasectomy just to secure the positions of your lover and your illegitimate child?" I spat out. Susan frowned, annoyed. “Myles, watch your mouth. I am giving you the status of my official husband, and I'm giving Owen the child. It’s a fair trade. Staying with me means you get to be a father without any of the pain. If you leave me, who else would ever want a sterilized man like you? Think about it wisely.” The pain hit me all at once as the anesthesia wore off. Yet, I couldn’t help but remember that once upon a time, she had carried a child of ours that she refused to accept.

After siring 18 princes, the current king, Henry Barton, finally sires me, his first princess. On the day of my birth, Father vacates the entirety of West Tower to be my personal place of residence. Not only that, but he also changes the rules, decreeing that no one is allowed to be alone with me. As a result, I remain mute even after I turn six. Father's new consort, Elizabeth Muller, is showered with love and attention even though she only moved into the castle three months ago. The first time we meet, she takes my hand and says, "You're so well-behaved, Princess Julia. Let me take you to look at the fish." After making sure that we're alone in the garden, she grips my wrist. Her smile slowly fades away as she sneers, "You're just a useless princess. Why does everyone in the castle have to bend to your every whim? Once I give birth to a legitimate heir, you and your brothers will have to grovel at my son's feet." My eyes turn bloodshot when Elizabeth digs her nails painfully into my flesh. "No crying. If you're mute, just keep your mouth shut. No one will believe you no matter how many tears you shed." What Elizabeth doesn't know is that I'm not actually mute. On the contrary, I'm actually too good at speaking. I've had an extraordinary talent for mimicking others since I was a child and can easily repeat anything I hear. That's why everyone in the castle is forbidden from speaking when I'm around. It's also why I have been silent for the past six years. The banquet celebrating the harvest festival is hosted one month later. It's extremely rare for all 18 of my brothers to be present at the same time. They take turns teasing me, hoping to get me to speak. As I curl up in Father's embrace, I suddenly blurt out, "Once I give birth to a legitimate heir, you and your brothers will have to grovel at my son's feet."

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.]

A week before our engagement, I finally learned that the man Madison Clarke had always secretly loved... was me. Overjoyed, I hurried to sign to her, wanting to tell her that I was LeoWinter—the gaming partner she'd been coupled with online. What I got in return was ridicule. "Charlie, how does a mute guy like you manage to pull so many tricks?" "LeoWinter already told me his account got stolen. He switched accounts ages ago. And you still want to pretend you're him?" It felt like a bucket of ice water had been dumped over my head. My entire body went rigid. She had forgotten that this game ID was permanently bound to the account. It was impossible for it to be stolen.

At the final meeting before the company's IPO, my wife, who was supposed to give the presentation, was absent. I called her multiple times, but she never answered. Because of her absence, the company lost the bid and became the laughingstock of the industry. Right at that moment, her male best friend uploaded a new post. "It's just a cold. Look at how worried she is." I clicked on it. There was my wife, whom I hadn't seen in days, crouched beside him, fawning over him as she gave him his medicine. I was utterly disappointed. In that moment, the five years we had spent together vanished completely.

On Mother’s Day, I was driving an intoxicated wealthy woman home when she suddenly said, “You know, I stole my husband from another woman.” Then she handed me a photo. The moment I saw it, my entire body went numb. The man smiling with his arm around her looked exactly like my husband — who had supposedly died eight years ago. After my husband, Cedric Foster, died in an accident, he left me drowning in debt and caring for his comatose mother. To pay everything off, I worked a day job and drove for a rideshare service at night. When creditors came knocking and I had no money left, I sold my blood more times than I could count. “Handsome, isn’t he?” said the woman with a smug smile. “He was married back then, but for me, he walked away from his wife and abandoned his family.” As we entered an exclusive luxury neighborhood, the woman rushed toward two figures waiting ahead. The moment I recognized them, every drop of blood in my body seemed to freeze. I could barely breathe.

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.

It was pure coincidence—or perhaps some twisted stroke of fate—that I happened to be passing by when Kevin Ford was ambushed by his enemies. He would have died right there if I hadn't saved him. After that day, he claimed he had fallen hopelessly in love with me. He said it in the quietest hours of the night, when our limbs were tangled beneath the sheets, "I can't live without you." Within three months, he proposed. The entire Raellere City's elite was scandalized. They said I must have bewitched him, brewed some kind of love potion. But one day, I stood just outside the door—silent, unseen—while the truth unraveled on the other side. "I have too many enemies," he said. "I can't let Audrey become their target. Cate is obedient. If one day she dies in Audrey's place, well, that would be a blessing for her." In that moment, the light in my eyes—once bright with love, hope, and foolish dreams—was extinguished completely.

Winter came again, and my husband and son broke out in rashes the moment the cold settled in. No doctor identified the allergen. To keep themselves safe, they drew a hard line and moved to a separate house for the season. It did not matter that I slipped and cracked my head open, or that I ended up in the hospital after a car accident. I fought every battle alone. We became strangers who shared a family name, and I became the thing that could kill them. I endured the bitter cold by myself, lonely and aching. I counted the days hoping that spring would bring my family back to me, until I overheard a conversation I was never meant to hear. "Daddy, we only get to see Daphne in winter. Cannot the allergies last a little longer?" Daphne Bullman, my husband's childhood sweetheart. My husband ruffled our son's hair. "All that allergy medicine is not good for you, and Daphne would worry. I will bring you to see her when I can." My son clapped his hands. "Yay! I love the mango candy Daphne gives me in winter, and I get to see her!" Mango. That was the fatal allergen I spent years keeping out of my son's reach. I stood in the freezing wind for a long time before I quietly walked home. Spring returned, and I stopped caring. "Eat whatever you want. If you think I am abusing you, call the police. I do not want custody anyway."