Hypocrisy

My daughter, Tina, locked herself in her room, crying so hard her body shook. I pried the door open and saw that she was clutching a test paper that was torn to shreds and pieced back together. It was a math Olympiad selection test. She should have gotten a perfect score, but was given a score of zero instead. "Mom," she sobbed, "the teacher said 3x5 is not equal to 5x3; that it's taking shortcuts. She tore my paper up in front of everyone, revoked my eligibility for the competition, and told the whole class not to talk to me…" I looked at the deep red scratch marks on my daughter's wrist and immediately picked up the phone to call the principal. "What good does it do for your school's reputation to drive a kid who loves math to their breaking point?"

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."

My sister-in-law and I have always been close, and we happened to be pregnant at the same time. However, during a routine check-up, she was diagnosed with uterine fibroids. I urged her to have surgery as soon as possible, but she refused and instead claimed her sallow complexion was a sign she was carrying a "child of fortune." She then retreated to the countryside to rest and nurture her pregnancy. Nine months later, while I grieved the loss of my stillborn child, she came back from the countryside with a baby girl in her arms. Consumed by the suspicion that the child was rightfully mine, I demanded a DNA test. That same night, my own mother and brother conspired to take my life. After my death, I discovered it was all a conspiracy. My family had orchestrated everything to swap my child for hers. When I opened my eyes again, I found myself back to the moment before I took her for that fateful check-up.

The night before my wedding, I was in a terrible car accident. I fell into a coma, and my body was broken and bruised. While I lay unconscious, my fiancé called off the engagement and married his childhood sweetheart instead. My mother went to demand justice on my behalf—but never made it back. She died in a sudden, brutal accident along the way. In that moment of chaos, it was my childhood friend who stepped in. He knelt on one knee outside the hospital with a wedding gift of a hundred thousand dollars and quietly handled my mother's funeral. I was wheeled into surgery. I lived, but was left with a permanent disability. And still, he promised to stay by my side, for life. I was deeply moved. We got married. But five years later, I overheard him talking to his secretary. "Mr. Davidson, you arranged for someone to hit your wife with a car, just so Lucy could marry the one she loved. Aren't you afraid she'll find out?" "For Lucy, there's nothing I wouldn't do. I've already given Ruby the rest of my life. Isn't that enough?" I covered my mouth, holding back a sob. Only then did I realize—the marriage I believed in had been a lie all along. So be it. I'll disappear and let him be with the woman he truly loves.

My name becomes the sensational topic on the trending list thanks to my company's employees, who have cyberbullied me relentlessly. It all started when an intern named Cecily Plinkton posted a complaint on her social media feed, claiming that the seafood thermidor, a new food item that had just gotten released in the company's cafeteria, was sold for 14 dollars, which was four dollars more expensive than before. "What a scum company! Are the higher-ups that crazy over money? They're just leeching from us white-collar peeps repeatedly!" The entire Internet doesn't hesitate to curse me out. They claim that I'm a cold-blooded capitalist who's greedy enough to charge her own employees for lunch. No one cares about the fact that I've been shelling out my own money in order to upgrade the cafeteria's food choices just so I could make the employees happier. Every day, they get to eat over hundreds of dishes to their fill for free. Every week, the expensive dishes, such as lobsters and crabs, are charged at the net price. Thanks to these free benefits, the administrative department has been suffering from almost a one-million-dollar loss every year. So, I announce that the food prices in the cafeteria will be changed to reflect the current market's prices. At the same time, I've fired the head chef and the kitchen staff and left the meal preparation to another company that produces instant meals. As soon as the announcement is made, the entire company goes into a frenzy. The employees all crowd outside my office while begging me to bring back the benefits with tears streaking down their cheeks.

My mother, Winona Barlowe, who was the medical director at the hospital, decided to let my intern sister, Mia Barlowe, practice her skills by performing a brain tumor surgery on me. I begged my mother to assign another doctor since it was my only chance at survival. She slapped me across the face and cried out, "How did I ever give birth to a selfish girl like you? Mia just started her internship. Can’t you give her the chance to practice?" When I died from the botched surgery, she turned gray overnight.

During the holiday, a hashtag related to honeymoon trips goes viral on social media. The topic is, "How are you planning to spend your honeymoon?" One of the threads that has the most replies reads, "I have to bring my mistress along, of course." "Wow! That's crazy. Can you teach us how to pull that off?" I frown as I scroll down the thread and find the reply. "There are a lot of poor, female backpackers these days. As long as the mistress acts pitiful enough, you can pull the wool over your wife's eyes. And just like that, a couple's haven will become a world of three. "My wife and I will be going on our honeymoon trip tomorrow. I'll give everyone live updates in this thread." Feeling disgusted, I close the thread. … The next day, my husband, Sean Clifford, and I meet a poor, female backpacker on the road. She has no car, money, or any suitcases with her. Sprawling herself across the windshield, she begs, "Can you give me a ride, sir? I have blisters all over my feet. I can't walk anymore."

The night before our Mating Ceremony, my fated mate, Alpha Ryker of the Howling Moon Pack, ordered me to give him the Moon Soul Crystal—the very thing that protected my pack, the Willow Creek Pack. He said he needed it to power up the Howling Moon Pack's Blood Moon Altar. He also promised he'd keep me and my people safe. But he didn't know that we, the healers of the Willow Creek Pack, can only create one Moon Soul Crystal in our entire lives. Making one takes a crazy amount of moon energy. It's the treasure that keeps our pack alive. My mother, worried about me using up my moon energy while I was pregnant, gave up her own Moon Soul Crystal instead. But just three months after Ryker and I were mated, she got sick, fast. She was dying. I knelt in front of Ryker, crying, begging him for the Silverleaf Herb from the Howling Moon's forbidden grounds. It was the only thing that could save my mom. But he just looked at me, his eyes full of disappointment, and kicked me away. "I asked for the Moon Soul Crystal to test you," he snarled. "And just as I thought, you married me for our pack's treasures! Your mother's not sick. You're making it all up!" "You don't deserve to be the Luna of the Howling Moon Pack!" It wasn't until after my mother died, when he was arguing with me, trying to kick me out of the pack, that my mother's things fell and scattered everywhere. Her Soul Stone, the symbol of a wolf's spirit, shattered. That's when he finally realized he was wrong. He fell to his knees, begging me not to leave, crying for me to forgive him.

For as long as I can remember, my family and I have been living in an underground basement that's completely shut off from the outside world. My parents have told me that the zombie apocalypse is terrorizing the outside world. The air is completely plagued with the zombie virus, and we'll die if we ever leave the basement. In order to save the supplies—which are already dwindling, to begin with—I've starved myself to the point I'm all skin and bones despite being only 18 years old. When I realize that there's only one last can of food left, I leave behind a suicide note. "Mom, Dad, now there's one less mouth to feed. You'll last a few more days." After that, I slit my wrist right away. Once I'm dead, my soul phases through the thick and heavy metal door. Bright sunlight illuminates the entire world. It's a beautiful, peaceful world filled with greenery. I can even hear birds chirping in the distance. Mom, Dad, and a bunch of people are throwing a barbecue party on the lawn. The mouth-watering smell of food being grilled permeates the air. So, it turns out that the zombie apocalypse is just a lie that's designated to trap me inside the fortress. I'm the only one who has died in this sunny, peaceful world.

After I reincarnated, I went to the hospital right away to get an abortion. In my past life, I was suddenly found to be pregnant with fraternal boy-girl twins after a childless marriage of five years. I was told that I needed to abort one, or I could die due to the excess size of the foetuses, but while I hesitated, I heard my son's voice. [Mommy! You have to abort this brat—she's going to kill me! She's been stealing all the food!] [She's not my sister—she's Tina and daddy's bastard! They used black magic to move her here and kill me, while you would treat her like your own daughter… and she can then inherit all the family wealth!] Hearing that, I promptly went to the hospital to abort the twin daughter, keeping the son. But on the day I went into labor, he threw a fit, punching and kicking my room until he finally killed me. And just before I died, I heard him gloating. [Stupid broad! You really believed me and aborted your own daughter! Just die already! I'm going to meet my parents!] When I opened my eyes again, Tina was sitting right in front of me, telling me to abort one of my babies…