Hypocrisy

My boyfriend, Zayne Jefferson, is particularly gifted in certain ways. Every time we're intimate, he insists on trying something new. More than once, he gently coaxes me, saying, "Once you graduate, we'll get married." And I believe him. I throw myself into my studies, pushing hard to finish my credits early. At the same time, I secretly watch all kinds of videos at night and read up on techniques. I want to keep his body satisfied. One night, I stay up too late studying and miss curfew. I run to the bar to find him, where I overhear him chatting with his friends. "Zayne, is your girlfriend really that wild in bed?" one guy asks. "Of course. He trained her himself!" another guy says. "What about Yasmin?" Zayne exhales a stream of smoke, his eyes soft. "She's different. She's pure." In that moment, I begin to hate him. Back on campus, I make a call to my professor. "That secret program you mentioned… I want in." From this day on, my life belongs only to my career.

I’d been in love with Cassian Cross—my brother’s best friend, the one and only mafia boss in the NYC—for as long as I could remember. On the night of my twentieth birthday, my brother promised me a surprise. I didn’t expect that surprise to be a very drunk, very kissable Cassian. One reckless night. One baby boy. Cassian agreed to marry me after giving birth. But the day I gave birth to Leo, Cassian said nothing. He just packed up and vanished to France for nearly five years. Then he returned with Alessia. His first love. And when she saw Leo and me, she ran away and disappeared. After that, Cassian never left my side. Like he was trying to be the man I needed all along, that we were finally going to have our chance. But fairytales are lies wrapped in pretty paper. On Leo’s sixth birthday, we were driving to dinner. The brakes failed. The car spun onto the highway, flames licking at the engine. Cassian got out. And then he locked the door. “If it weren’t for you, Alessia would still be by my side. Now? It’s your turn to suffer.” It wasn’t until that moment I understood—Cassian had never loved me. When I opened my eyes again, I was back at my twenties birthday. Cassian was in my bed, exactly where I’d left him in the past. This time, I didn’t hesitate. I ran. And on my way out, I made the call I should’ve made the first time. To Alessia.

The day my husband left the country on a business trip with his assistant, I learned—by sheer accident—that his archenemy was plotting revenge overseas. Without a second thought, I raced to the airport and stopped him from boarding the plane. But his assistant went ahead, alone. And over there, she was killed brutally. Not a trace of her remains was ever found. When my husband received the news, he fell apart. Wracked with guilt, eaten alive by remorse, he spiraled into a relentless, violent mania. In the past three years, I'd been in and out of hospitals more times than I could count because of him. And this time, he pushed me so far—I lost our child. Then I overheard a conversation between him and his secretary. "Sir, Casey is still alive. Why keep pretending you're sick? Aren't you afraid your wife will find out and leave you?" "Leave me? What right does she have to be angry?" He laughed coldly. "If she hadn't stopped me from going abroad, Casey would've never been lured away by that bastard. Everything Linda's suffering now—she brought it on herself."

My husband and I have been legally married for five years. This is the tenth time he's canceled our wedding ceremony. This time? His student, Laura, is competing in her first international violin competition—and he 'needs' to be there. I still remember the last cancellation: an awards ceremony he had to attend with her. The time before that? She fell ill, and he stayed at her hospital bedside. The other times? I've lost count of the excuses, but it doesn't matter. The reason is always Laura. Her needs always outweighed my wedding. My marriage. My life. Fine. If he wanted to stand by Laura so badly, he could stay there forever. This hollow, five-year farce of a marriage? It's over.

A few days before my postpartum period ended, I found two plane tickets to Mirelia tucked inside Daryl’s wallet. I was secretly delighted. I thought he had planned a surprise for me. But on the very day I was supposed to recover, he told me that his company had suddenly sent him on a business trip. I tossed and turned all night, unable to sleep—only to see his first love post on social media. [Finally fulfilled our promise to kiss at Saint Vyron Cathedral. Thank you, God. After all this time, it’s still you.] The photo showed the two of them holding hands and kissing. I didn’t confront him right away. Instead, I turned to look at my sleeping daughter beside me, then picked up my phone. [Dad, I've made up my mind. I'll take over the family business.]

I once thought that my and Sebastian Ford's love would last a lifetime. Yet, the man who claims to love me does everything possible to hurt me. He takes wedding photos with another woman and goes on vacation with her. They even sleep in the same room. When making love to me, he speaks to a friend in a foreign language. He tells the friend he will marry another woman but keep me bound to him with a fake marriage certificate.

To teach me to behave, my parents forged a paternity test and declared I was not their biological son. My sister ignored my pleas and had me committed to a psychiatric hospital. "You troublemaker, why don't you just die?" they sneered. Even the fiancée I loved most watched with icy eyes and used her connections to make sure I suffered inside. After five years, I finally knew how to keep my head down. So why did they suddenly demand I return to the arrogant heir I once was?

Yuri's father calls and tells me to send his son, the Alpha heir and my childhood friend, home to meet his further mate. But Yuri Blevin is lying next to me, fast asleep and shirtless. Thinking it's just a joke, I nudge him and say with a light laugh, "Yuri, they said they've arranged a mate for you. What do you think?" He raises an eyebrow and lazily wraps an arm around my waist. "Then make sure you pick a nice suit for me. I trust your taste will impress her." When I freeze and say nothing, Yuri opens his eyes and lets out a carefree chuckle. "Hey, Ophelia, what kind of reaction is that? We're just casual lovers, right? Don't tell me you actually thought I'd make you my future Luna?"

For the ninety-ninth time, Thomas Wells brought a strange woman home. Following his instructions, I was washing Chloe Brooks's feet. Without warning, she kicked the basin violently, sending hot water splashing onto my face. "Thomas, Ms. Harris just pinched my foot! My feet are for ballet—I'm in so much pain. What am I supposed to do for tomorrow's competition?" Thomas flew into a rage. To punish me, he had someone bring a brazier, and I was forced to press my foot into the burning coals. The smell of burning flesh filled the entire living room in an instant. Thomas paid no attention as I collapsed to the floor, curling up and breaking out in a cold sweat. He turned away, carrying Chloe off to the bedroom. Shortly afterward, I called Thomas's sister, Tracy. "Tracy, I'm sorry. I don't intend to be with Thomas anymore." After that, I left and vanished from his life. Later, I heard that Mr. Wells of the Wells family had gone mad.

Having dated for five years and been married for seven, she had never missed his birthday in the past 12 years. The 12 gifts from previous years were carefully placed in the storage closet. However, this year's birthday gift...