Hypocrisy Romance Short Stories & Regret Novels

In the third year of Michelle Lowe’s relationship with Sigmund Lloyd, the man she had been financially supporting, her family went bankrupt. To save the company, her father tried to force her into an arranged marriage. That very night, she packed up everything she owned, ready to elope with Sigmund. However, when she arrived at the exclusive club where he worked, she saw him elegantly socializing with powerful guests. His refined manners and quiet confidence made him look nothing like the poor young man she’d been supporting for the past three years.

Imagine my shock when I found out that my husband, a professor who had proudly embraced a childless life for half of his years, had an affair with one of his own students. She even had his six-year-old son. The day I planned to report him to the university, Zia Thompson came to my door with the child and knelt in front of me. "Maybe you and Zeke were in love once," she said. "But he's over forty now. Who doesn't want to have a child? A legacy?" "I don't need a title," she went on. "I can give up the child too. I just beg you, don't tear our family apart." I looked at my husband, who stood protectively in front of them. I felt terrifyingly calm. "Cut ties with them," I said, my voice flat, "or prepare to be reported to the university. You choose." Without a moment's hesitation, he tore the report letter into shreds. I thought that was his answer. But on the fifty-second night of a bed grown cold and a home echoing with silence, he still hadn't returned. Instead, I received news that Zia was pregnant again. She had graduated by then. The report I never sent no longer posed any threat to them. Zeke didn't bother to hide his fatigue and irritation anymore. "Treat Zia and the kids well," he said, "or keep living alone in that empty house. It's your choice." My heart was already a wasteland. "I have one more option," I said. "I choose divorce."

On the fifth year of our hidden marriage, I died on the operating table of a hospital belonging to Allen Jones. Before I died, I called him ninety-nine times, begging for help. The last time, he finally answered. His voice was heavy with impatience. "Enough already. First, it's pregnancy, now it's liver cancer. Can you stop making a scene? I'm exhausted from work. "Mia, when did you learn to lie? Do you know how disgusting you are right now? "I'm warning you—if you keep this up, I'll divorce you. Don't even think about coming back home until you admit you're wrong." But this time, I could never go back. Just before the call ended, I heard him comforting Sadie with a gentleness he had never shown me. "Don't be afraid. The surgery will be over soon, and you'll be fine. Once you're out, I'll take you to see your favorite movie and eat at your favorite restaurant. I promised you, and I'll make it all come true." After he hung up, I called him for the hundredth time. He didn't answer. Later, when Allen saw my body on the operating table, he broke down completely.

My husband, Malcolm Thorpe, has low sperm motility. After 33 rounds of IVF, I finally got pregnant. On delivery day, I start hemorrhaging, and the medical team calls for an emergency C-section. Malcolm signs the consent form, then rushes straight back to his childhood sweetheart's birthday party. But instead of starting the C-section, the surgeon says, "Ms. Jacobson, the electronic medical record lists you as single. This consent form isn't valid." I stop breathing for a beat. The happy marriage I believe in turns out to be a sham. Later, Mom and Dad rush in and sign the consent for me. But by then, the baby is gone. The asphyxia lasted too long. After surgery, I scrawl my name on the cremation consent with shaking hands, then dial a number without thinking. "Samuel, are you free now? Meet me in front of City Hall."

When I discover that Shawn Felton has kept a mistress for the past three years and even intends to throw her a wedding, I decide to leave him. I'm going home to marry the man my family has picked for me. On the first day, I give the ring Shawn got me to his mistress. On the second day, I throw away everything and anything that has to do with me. On the third day, I put on a wedding dress and marry Shawn's nemesis. From now on, Shawn and I will have nothing to do with each other. Shawn is unfazed originally. He thinks I'm just throwing a tantrum. He only panics when he sees the news of me marrying someone else.

My wife is a pilot. We had our wedding three years ago, but she's stood me up 18 times since then when we agreed to register our marriage. The first time she stood me up was when her apprentice took his first flight. I waited outside city hall the whole day for her. The second time she stood me up was when she turned around after receiving a call from her apprentice. She left me by the roadside. Later, whenever we set a date to register our marriage, her apprentice would run into all sorts of trouble. Finally, I decided to leave her. But after I board a flight to Avalonia, she chases me all the way there like she's lost her mind.

The day I discovered Sean's affair, I cornered him and my stepsister Tina in the company warehouse. A fire broke out afterward. Tina died saving me from the flames, and Sean was injured when a pillar collapsed on him. His shoulder was wrapped in bandages. "Joanna, are you happy now?" His ragged scream that day echoed in my ears for a long, long time. Two months later, the company went bankrupt because of the fire. To pay off the debts, Sean and I moved to a run-down neighborhood. I worked three jobs a day, all to ease the guilt eating me alive. A few years passed, and our relationship seemed to find its way back to what it once was—right up until Valentine's Day. That was when I spotted the supposedly dead Tina at the supermarket, shopping for seafood with Patricia, my mother-in-law. "Patricia, thank you. Without you, Sean and I wouldn't be this happy." "Don't mention it. If we hadn't gotten rid of that crazy woman back then, what would've happened to my precious grandson?" Patricia smiled and patted Tina's hand. "It's Valentine's Day. Sean reserved that rooftop restaurant just for you two. Go enjoy yourselves." My first instinct was to call Sean, but before I could even dial, a text from him came through first. "Babe, picking up a coworker's shift tonight. Night pay and the bonus come out to almost two hundred dollars. I'll bring you something good on my way back." I froze where I stood. So that was it. Three years of hardship, and all of it had been a lie they'd carefully woven around me.

On the day the gauze was removed from my eyes, I joked that I was blind. "Don't be afraid if you can't see. I'll take care of you my entire life." My husband and best friend took care of me while I was in the hospital. They sincerely made that promise to me. However, when we got home, all three of us were on the same bed. My best friend rode on top of my husband breathlessly. They were caught up in their intimacy as they thought I could not see. My best friend was worried I would suspect something and spoke up to eliminate any suspicion. "Uhh… Summer, I'm just giving your husband a massage." I was so disgusted that I wanted to throw up, but I held myself back. Once they were done, I was about to find an excuse to leave the room when my five-year-old suddenly ran in. "I miss you so much, Mom!" Hearing that warmed my heart, and I opened my arms to hug him, but he ran past me and lay down next to my best friend instead. The 'happy family of three' were all smiles and threw me looks of disgust. I could no longer tolerate this. When I called my lawyer, I told him to bring me the divorce papers. If they wanted to become a family so badly, I would make their wish come true. I just did not know if my best friend could afford to earn a decent enough income to take care of my useless husband and son.

I've been married to Derek Gunther for many years. Every anniversary, he tells me the airline scheduled him for a flight, then sends an expensive pair of earrings to smooth things over. But on our ninth anniversary, I accidentally overhear him joking with his friends. "Derek, you spend every anniversary with Ivy—and Sienna still hasn't caught on?" "No wonder she can't get pregnant. After all, you give all to Ivy." Derek exhales a stream of smoke and says, "Ivy gave up everything to be with me. I owe her a real home. As for Sienna, I stopped loving her after she miscarried. When the time's right, I'll file for divorce. It's unfair, sure—but I'll make it up to her with money." What Derek doesn't know is that he won't get that chance. It's on our anniversary that I'm diagnosed with late-stage ovarian cancer. Since he stopped loving me long ago, I'm ready to walk away on my own terms. Derek, from now on, we're done.

I am the woman of a mafia boss, Arthur Borne. Ever since we got married, he doted on me endlessly, professing his love for me publicly. The entire time, I believed he loved me deeply and simply could not help but flaunt his love for me to the world. Until one night, I overheard a conversation he had with his men. "I have dealings in both business and the underworld. Enemies are lurking everywhere. The only way to protect Ely is to make Juniper appear as my weakness so she can be Ely’s shield." This entire time, all the pain I suffered for him was nothing but a sick joke… Fine, two can play at this game!

I had been dating Andy Lawson for five years. He had gone bankrupt, and during the worst of it, we had to sleep in parks and scavenge leftovers for food. After a hundred days of that life, I was just going to the blackmarket to sell some blood for money when someone sent me a video. [Surprise.] It was a livestream site, set up for rich kids to prank the common folk—and a video of me was pinned to the top. My finger trembling, I tapped on it and saw myself hidden in a corner of a park, munching on leftovers to nourish my frail body. On the split video, Andy was reclining against the armchair of a five-star hotel and savoring his gourmet menu. "Oh, this is amazing! All Andy has to do is say that he's sick, and she's selling her blood for him!" "On the sixteenth prank, she fell into the ocean… And on the fifteenth, she was sent flying in a car crash! Why is she so hard to kill?" "Well, Andy already made it clear that if she survives until the end, he will marry her and swear off women!" "One month to go! Will she die from the pranks, or marry into the Lawson family with pomp and circumstance?" "I'm betting fifty mil that she dies tragically! Hahaha!"

Owen Gray and I get into an accident. I'm seven months pregnant, but I save him anyway. I end up in a coma. I wake up after three years. Owen has amnesia, and he's now my sister's husband. My child also calls her his mother. I try everything, but Owen doesn't remember me. Instead, his love for my sister grows deeper. Even our son blames me for waking him and ruining their happy lives. When I finally decide to let go, I overhear a conversation between Owen and someone else. "Shannon was willing to give up her life for you, Owen. If she finds out your amnesia is an act…" "There's only a week to go before my three-year agreement with her sister is over. I'll give Vivian the wedding she wants. Then, I'll act like I've recovered from my amnesia. Luca and I will return to Shannon's side." I'm stunned. I never would've expected Owen to be pretending to be an amnesiac. I look at the diagnosis report in my hands. It's too bad I can't even wait for a week.

Rosalie Lardner has 19 chances to get Brandon Searle into bed. Succeed just once, and she wins. Fail all 19, and she loses the title of "Mrs. Searle" for good. This is the bet she made with Brandon's stepmother—a deal she signed with complete confidence. But unfortunately, she fails every single time. Eighteen attempts, 18 failures. Now, it all comes down to the 19th try.

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.

During Christmas dinner, my mother-in-law hinted for the umpteenth time that she wanted a grandchild. However, my husband, Zachary Cole, who had insisted on staying child-free in the past decade, only smiled and filled her plate. After dinner, he slipped onto the balcony. "There, there. Daddy will come see you on New Year's Day," he whispered. I stood in the corner of the living room with a glass of water in my hand, feeling cold as the words sank in. I stepped forward and forced a playful tone. "I just heard you say 'Daddy.' Got a secret kid stashed somewhere?" He rubbed his nose, his voice stiff. "You must've misheard. That's… just a friend's kid." My heart sank. I'd been married to him for a decade, so I knew exactly what he looked like when he was lying.

Three days after I died, my fiancé got a call to ID the body. He just scoffed. "She's dead, so what? Call me when she's in the ground." The cops, out of options, hit up my backup contact—my childhood friend. He actually laughed. "She's really gone? Not my problem. Burn her or whatever." Then my body hit the internet— And suddenly, both of them looked like ghosts.

My wife and I had kept our marriage secret for three years. Then she became a fraud-busting influencer with ten million followers, and I was the first person she exposed. On her livestream, she sobbed that I was a freeloader who beat her, bled her dry, and even forced her to entertain men over drinks for money. The internet buried me in abuse. Delivery orders I never placed and funeral wreaths piled up outside my door. Her top donor announced he was going to break my legs to get justice for her. On camera, my wife was a fragile victim. Off camera, she was texting me threats. If I did not sign the thirty-million-dollar penthouse downtown over to her, she would burn my name to the ground. She thought that owning public opinion meant owning me. What she did not know was that her top donor, the man showering her with gifts every night, was one of my security guards. And when she brought New York's richest man onto her stream, intending to expose my supposed crimes, something else happened. The richest man in New York turned toward where I was standing and called me boss.

I got pregnant after a relationship lasting eight years, only for my fiance to call off the wedding the night before. When I arrived, I found him changing it to a celebration of his son's first month. I heard his parents speak ill of me, "That Rachel Stone really embarrassed us, getting pregnant even before you got married. I refuse to have such an immoral daughter-in-law like her." Several days later, Sean Wickham let his son's mother put on the most exquisite wedding dress to get their marriage registered. "I have a son anyway," he chuckled. "Whatever happens to the thing in your belly ain't any of my business." The illusion of happiness utterly shattered, I left without hesitation, heartbroken. I didn't want this marriage or the child anymore. I’d go back to my real home in the distant north.

Grayson Harmon's childhood friend, Sophia Lexton, got into a car accident. She didn't just lose her memory—she came away with some post-traumatic stress disorder, too. That's what the doctors called it. They said we had to keep her calm, avoid anything that might upset her. So, for the sake of her recovery, Grayson asked me not to argue with her. To let her have her way, no matter what. She took my engagement necklace and moved into the little love nest Grayson and I had made our own. And on our wedding day, she threatened to kill herself, forcing Grayson to take her to the hospital. He looked at her bleeding out and said to me, calm as ever, "Brianna, I'll make it up to you after the wedding. I'll throw you an even grander one. Sophia is dying." Then he picked her up and walked away, never once looking back. If he had—just once—he might have seen something was wrong. He might have seen the blood soaking into my wedding dress.

On the night of the Festival of Lights, Mother secretly took me out to wander the streets. Then, out of nowhere, a man and a woman stepped into our path. The man stared at my mother, his eyes turning red. "Emmeline?" The woman's gaze locked on me. She grabbed the man's sleeve, suddenly frantic. "Cedric, look! Those eyes, that face... She's our daughter, Rosalind!" She rushed toward me with her arms open wide. "Rosalind, I'm your mother!" I was so scared that I scrambled behind my mother. Mother pulled me behind her without a word. Her face gave nothing away. The man approached, looking guilty and full of himself at the same time. "Emmeline, it must have been hard on you all these years, raising my daughter with Seraphina so well. Now that I've returned to the capital, I'll make it up to you. I still remember the promise we made, our betrothal. "But Seraphina is already my lawful wife, so I'm afraid you'll have to settle for being a concubine." I was stunned. My father was the reigning Emperor. My mother was the Empress. What in the world was this man talking about?