Hypocrisy

My mate Garrett inherited the Alpha position after his brother, the former Alpha of the Silver Claw Pack, was killed in the war against the Rogue wolves. And along with it, he inherited his sister-in-law Sarah. From that day forward, he gave me his love, but gave his resources and privileges to his sister-in-law. He claimed she would face cruelty from pack members without the protection of an Alpha, so he took her to Moonhaven Sanctuary—the most secure settlement in the entire Northern Territory—while leaving me behind in the abandoned, low-ranking wastelands of our pack. Every month, he wrote me five letters expressing his longing and affection, yet gave all hunting spoils and money to his sister-in-law. When Rogue wolves invaded, my mate dispatched the pack's strongest forces to protect her and her two children, while my two pups didn't even wait for my return from the hunt. They died cold and hungry, torn apart and devoured by Rogue wolves. Later, I finally managed to wait for my mate Garrett's return. He didn't shed a single tear for our children and told me he wanted to break our bond. "Ember, Sarah can’t keep Luna position anymore so that she can't enjoy the privileges that come with it. My brother died protecting me, so I must protect his widow and her children. " "Don't worry, once her children grow up safe and strong enough, I'll break the bond with her and re-establish our mate bond, because I only love you." He continued. The backlash from the broken bond tortured me until I was barely alive, and I ended my own life. When I opened my eyes again, I had returned to the day my pups were brutally killed. This time, I didn't leave my children to go hunting. Instead, I took them with me to claim everything that rightfully belonged to us...

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 daughter-in-law cheated on my son behind his back, and I caught her. When I confronted her, she turned the tables on me, accusing me instead. I told my son everything exactly as it happened, but she broke down crying and accused me of bullying her. "Ever since I married into the Simmons family, you've never been happy with me," she sobbed. "If I’d known you’d slander me like this, I would’ve been better off dead!" She attempted to hurt herself to prove her innocence, but my son stopped her. "Mom, how could you accuse my wife like that? You're my own mother, but this is too much!" he shouted. Furious, he moved out with her. Later, I fell gravely ill and begged my son to come see me one last time. When he finally arrived, he brought her with him. To my horror, they removed my oxygen tube. As I struggled to breathe, I heard her smug voice whisper in my ear: "Old hag, if it weren't for you accusing me of cheating, Herman and I wouldn’t have gotten your inheritance so quickly!" She laughed coldly. "Oh, and next time you accuse someone, make sure you have evidence. Did you really think your word alone could ruin me?" I died choking on my final breath. Afterward, they lived happily, spending my money without a care in the world. But then, I woke up. It was the day I caught her cheating again. This time, I went straight to work. I replaced the lubricant at home with industrial-strength glue. She wanted proof? Fine. I’d give her proof.

My husband’s childhood sweetheart pushed me off the cruise ship on purpose when she found out I was pregnant. I did not scream for help. Instead, I held onto my mother-in-law, who had fallen in too, and fought to survive. In my last life, I had screamed for help in the sea. My husband jumped in with others and saved both me and his mother. But his beloved ex, stained with blood, attracted a shark and was torn apart in the water. After she died, my husband said she deserved it for pushing me. He treated me with care and guilt, acting like the perfect husband. But when the baby was born, he killed him. "It is your fault, you wretch. I lost the woman I loved because of you. Now it is your turn to feel that pain!” I used everything I had left to drag him to death with me. When I opened my eyes again, I was back in the ocean—right before it all happened.

My sister accompanies me when I go for my premarital medical checkup. When I'm preparing a urine test, I hear embarrassing sounds coming from the cubicle next door. I'm about to leave when I hear the conversation. "Keep it in you, Willow. We're doing this again if it slips out." The voice belongs to my fiancé, Zachary Hilton. The woman to whom he's speaking is Willow Langley, my sister. I dial his number hysterically to see whether it really is him, but my calls go unanswered. All I hear is the incessant ringing of a phone next door and moans alongside it. I'm rooted to the spot, too stunned to do anything. Zachary once vowed to love me for life, yet he's doing something like this with Willow prior to our wedding. The moans and pants next door take a long time to subside. Once I hear them leave, I call home, my face wet with tears. "Mom, change my husband-to-be to Thomas Hilton, Zachary's youngest uncle. I don't want to have anything to do with Zachary anymore."

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.

Silas Grant and I are renowned in our social circle for being a loving couple. However, a month before our wedding, he calls everything off. He wants to marry the poor student that my parents have been sponsoring. I demand an explanation. He says to me, "Vivian will have to marry that cripple if I don't marry her. You're the kindest person I know, Serena. I'm sure you can understand why I'm doing this." "Fine, then," I say. Silas leans down to kiss my cheek. He holds me happily and says, "I knew you'd agree to this. Don't worry, okay? I'll divorce her once this matter is settled." I push him away lightly and wipe his saliva from my cheek. Then, I pull out an invitation from my pocket. He takes it. His smile freezes when he sees the names on the invitation.

In Reychelle City, a contest was held to crown the most beautiful woman. After my cousin scarred my face, she seized first place with ease. What she never expected was that this year's contest wasn't for fame; it was to select the future wife of the Third Prince, a ruthless, bloodthirsty eunuch. That very afternoon, gifts poured in by the cartload. My betrothed panicked. That night, he tore up our engagement contract and carried my cousin into the bridal chamber. The next day, she trailed her lacquered fingertips across my cheek and sneered, "Alicia, with your ruined face, who would ever want you? Perhaps the beggar at the street corner might take you in." I caught her wrist, let out a cold laugh, and said, "Who told you I would marry a beggar?" Before her stunned eyes, I pushed open my parents' chamber doors. "Mom, since Maggie doesn't wish to be the prince's consort… let me take her place." Three years later, before the eyes of a shocked court, the Third Prince entered the grand hall with me at his side, with two children in tow. No one had foreseen it. This body of mine, blessed with the rarest gift of fertility, was the perfect match for a man believed incapable of siring heirs.

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.

Walter planned sixty-six proposal trips just to win me over. On the sixty-seventh, I finally said yes. The day after our wedding, I gave him sixty-six "forgiveness cards." We made a deal: every time he upset me, he could use one to earn my forgiveness. Over six years of marriage, every time he made me angry because of his childhood friend Janet, Walter would hand me a card. By the time he used the sixty-fourth, he began to sense something was off. I no longer reminded him to keep his distance. I no longer needed him the way I used to. However, the last time he left me behind for Janet, I reached out, stopped him, and asked: "If you go to her again… can I still forgive you with one of these cards?" He paused mid-step and looked at me, half helpless, half amused. "If you want to use one, use it. You've got plenty left, don't you?" I gave a small nod and watched him walk away. He still thought those forgiveness cards would never run out. What he did not know was— There was only one left.