Hypocrisy

My husband’s friend’s widow uploaded a picture of her pregnancy report. [Thank you for letting me have my own baby.] I responded with a question mark when I saw Jake Green, my husband’s name, in the husband column. Jake immediately called me to yell at me. “She’s a widow and is living alone. All she wants is to have a baby to keep her company and give her life a little more cheer. How could you not show her even this bit of pity? “You know that Henry is my friend. It’s only right for me to take care of his wife after he died! This is called friendship, don’t you understand?!” Soon, Henry’s widow uploaded a photo of a loft apartment. [Thank goodness you’re by my side to let me experience the warmth of a family again.] When I saw Jake busying himself in the kitchen in the photo, I thought it was time to end the marriage.

Right before I hit forty, my husband hit me with: "I want a divorce." For the past ten years, I had been driving a truck outside every day to support my family, while he had been cheating on me at home. Even our child was no longer close to me. "Bad Mom! You hit Jenny! Bad Mom!" Willy cried. "I don't want Mom. I want Jenny. I wanna stay with Dad and Jenny!" Jenny. The neighbor. Single mom. Her kid and ours were tight. Ten years of grinding, running myself ragged—for two ingrates? All right! Wish your family of four a happy life! I didn't want my husband or son anymore.

When I was nine, I was hit by the blast of an explosion while saving Simone Scott. From that day onward, I have to rely on hearing aids to get by. Overwhelmed with guilt, she suggests we get engaged and swears to me with teary eyes, "Justin, I'll take care of you for the rest of my life." But at 18 years old, to satisfy a dare from the school heartthrob, she rips off my hearing aid and humiliates me in front of him and our classmates. Disgust fills her voice as she says, "You're nothing but a burden. I've been sick of you for a long time. I wish you'd died back then instead of being saved." I clutch the hearing recovery report in my hand and say nothing. After that, I quietly change my college applications, bring my parents with me, and formally call off the engagement. Simone, this is where our paths split. There is no reason for us to ever see each other again.

After spending six months overseas expanding business, I had just closed a deal worth ten billion. Casually scrolling through the news, a headline made me stop dead in my tracks. [Shocking! Illegitimate Daughter Provokes Meyer Family Heiress, Teacher and Classmates Punish Her!] In the video, my daughter Maeve stood in the freezing snow wearing nothing but a tattered dress, her body covered in bruises. She was being forced to endure the cold, her little frame shivering uncontrollably. A female teacher poked at Maeve's head, ordering the entire class to call her a shameless illegitimate child. Maeve sobbed, insisting she wasn't, but all she got in return was crueler, more mocking laughter from everyone around her. Then a chubby little boy ran up and slapped her across the face. "Your mom's a mistress, and you're a filthy illegitimate child! You're both just gutter rats!" The teacher didn't stop him—she clapped her hands in approval. "That's right! The Meyer family heir isn't something just any nobody gets to pretend to be." "Besides, Mrs. Meyer picks up Clarisse every single day. Look at her—so elegant, clearly classy. And your homewrecker of a mother? Pathetic. She's not even in the same league." When I heard that last line, I slammed my laptop shut, shaking with rage. I turned to my assistant. "Book me the fastest private jet home. I want to see for myself exactly when Aaron, that worthless husband of mine, managed to father an illegitimate child."

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.

Upon returning home from completing a vital national project, I find out that my grandfather has been reduced to a cripple after being beaten up by a famous Internet star, Nathan Larsson. All because Grandpa accidentally got in Nathan's way when he was picking up trash. Enraged, I choose to call the cops on Nathan. But my CEO wife, Whitney Backman, becomes Nathan's witness. She sits at the witness stand with a righteous look plastered on her face. "Grandpa is sickly, to begin with. Yet he insists on picking up trash on his own. After he tripped and fell, he accused Nathan of pushing him! I can't just sit by and watch an innocent man get slandered! That's why I chose to defend him!" Everyone present at the court supports Whitney's statement. Even the judge declares that Grandpa is guilty, and that we are to pay a huge compensation to Nathan. Hatred brims in my eyes as I turn on the livestream and dig out Grandpa's medals of valor as well as my dad's first class medals.

Zachary Quinn suddenly develops a fondness for going to a massage parlor after I'm discharged from the hospital—I was in an accident. He excitedly tells me that the masseuse there has the best skills he's ever experienced. "They even have free food and fruits! I bring my laptop there with me to work when I get tired at the office." I don't know why he's telling me these things. He knows my father got caught cheating at a massage parlor. I hate those places. It's only later that I learn the relaxation he describes isn't what I imagined. He's long since gone bad in places that I can't see.

Penelope Rivera's little boy toy, Theodore Schneider, is throwing another tantrum. She slides the divorce papers across the table toward me. "Just sign them for show. It's to keep Teddy happy." I clench the cuff of my suit and nod in silence. I sign my name in one swift stroke. As I'm walking out, I hear one of her girlfriends teasing, "Samuel's way too easygoing. Does he actually do everything you say?" Penelope takes a graceful sip of red wine and smirks. "Wanna bet?" They bet that I will quietly go through with the divorce at the courthouse, even if my eyes are red with tears. Listening their laughter, I rub my thumb over my phone screen and reply to the message I've just received. "Will you marry me?" it says. "I will."

Gilbert Pierce, my wife's male trainee, bragged that he could disarm a bomb just by relying on his senses and with his eyes closed. However, he misjudged it and triggered the bomb's secondary detonation sequence. I stepped in at the last second and used the most dangerous method available, liquid nitrogen flash cooling, to save the entire building. Gilbert was pulled off frontline duty and placed on suspension for review. My wife, Jasmine Clem, tried to speak up for him, but I stopped her cold. "If you defend him now, you won't save him. You'll just get dragged down and suspended alongside him." Unable to handle the pressure, Gilbert blew himself up in an accident. In his suicide note, he accused Jasmine of choosing self-preservation when he needed her most. Jasmine said nothing. She only locked that letter away in her study. Years later, Jasmine became a nationally renowned bomb disposal expert. During a terrorist attack, I was captured and strapped with a timed explosive. Jasmine came to the scene personally to defuse it, but right in front of me, she repeated the exact same mistake her trainee had made years ago. She watched the countdown and smiled lightly at me. "See? He was just nervous back then. If I had encouraged him, he'd be a hero now." The bomb detonated, and I was blown apart. When I opened my eyes again, I was back at the moment she was about to defend Gilbert. She didn't know that inside that building sat the nation's most classified core servers.

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.