Hypocrisy Phrases

My older sister Katie said she missed me and requested I visit her. The second day at her place, the apocalyptic heatwave arrived. I fought tooth and nail in the supermarket for food and coolant—she told me I'm shameless and have no self-respect. I offered a high price in the community chat for supplies—she sneered at me and said that anything stored for so long must be disgusting, contaminated by bacteria. Yet, she threw herself into the arms of the man living across the hallway just for a bit of food. While cuddled in his arms, she watched me die in the heatwave. When I opened my eyes again, I heard her on the phone saying she missed me. Well, keep on missing me!

I am diagnosed with severe systemic lupus erythematosus, and I only have three days left to live. When my husband rejects my 188th plea for help, I take my test results and enter the hospice care center. "Hello, I'd like to schedule my own cremation process and apply for government aid." Ten minutes later, they arrive. Before I can speak, my lawyer husband, Jasper Horton, coldly slaps me across the face. "You're faking a terminal illness just to steal attention from Janice?" My doctor brother, Casey Carter, snatches the medical report from my hand and scoffs at it. "Lupus? If you're going to fake being sick, at least make it believable. Only one in a million people gets this." I endure the pain in my body, return to the counter, and hand in the application form and my medical records once more. The staff member sees the butterfly-shaped rash on my wrist and sympathizes with me. "I have no family left," I say. "I'm requesting cremation in three days, location doesn't matter. I just don't want my death to burden anyone."

At the team dinner, everyone started hyping Peggy Madoff and me up to call our partners. Before I could even move, Peggy—runner-up to my top spot—whipped out her phone. "Babe, everyone's making me call you!" she giggled. On the line? Gerard Busch. Yeah, the CEO. He laughed. "Guess I'll be counting on you all to look after Peggy," he said. Cue the gasps and cheers. I just kept downing my wine. Because Gerard? He was my husband.

My mother is in the late stages of cancer. Yet, she sits in a wheelchair with an oxygen tube and endures a long train ride just to attend my wedding with Isaac Pudley. But when it's time for him to walk down the aisle, I don't see him anywhere despite screaming his name. It turns out his childhood sweetheart, Megan Ericsson, is having another depressive episode and is threatening suicide again. "Isaac, I can't live without you," she screeches. Isaac is always so stern and composed, but he now holds Megan in his arms and begs me to call off the wedding so they can leave. Relatives and guests watch the spectacle with thinly veiled amusement. To make matters worse, my mother is so angry that she faints. However, Isaac believes that my mother is feigning illness. He only wants to take Megan with him and leave. He even takes away my mother's wheelchair. But he seems to have forgotten that he has hurt me 97 times by now. After he hurts me 99 times, I’ll definitely leave him.

As the daughter of a billionaire, I grew up in a world full of luxury. But when I turned 18, I gave everything I had to my brother's best friend, Nathan Gildon. He was the one my brother trusted most, the one he personally brought up. Nathan was smart and ambitious, and when he smiled, it felt as if he was handing you the whole world. I had had a crush on him for years. Last night, I thought he finally loved me back. I thought I wasn't just the girl who snuck glances at him across crowded parties anymore. I thought I was the woman he'd bring into his future. But the next morning, I heard him on the balcony, laughing with an investor friend. "Mavis is just practice. I need some experience before I pursue Claire. Besides, her family can open a lot of doors for me." I didn't cry, question him, or explain myself. I just packed my bags and changed my college applications. One week later, I was on a plane to Eltoria. And the man who betrayed me that night? He went crazy trying to win me back.

My boyfriend gave me away to his arch-nemesis because he lost a bet. On the same night, I was driven to his arch-nemesis’ house. Before leaving, he expressed remorse, “Anya, just bear with it for a bit. I will come to pick you up in a month.” That night, the man pinned me to the bed and started unbuttoning my shirt. As he traced his cold fingertips against my collarbone, he said, deep and seductively, “So that’s the scumbag you fell for? Why don’t you be with me instead? I can give you everything you want.” I leaned forward and kissed him right away. “Sure.”

Two weeks before our wedding, Jonah Alston suddenly wants to postpone it. He says, "Sasha says she's having her first exhibition on that day. She'll be alone during the opening, and I'm worried she'll get stage fright. I have to help her. We're just going through the motions with the wedding, anyway. What does it matter whether it's a day earlier or later?" This isn't his first time postponing our wedding for Sasha Lester's sake, though. The first time he did it was because he claimed she missed having homecooked food after undergoing surgery. He'd flown abroad to care for her for two months. The second time was because he said she wanted to head into the mountains to get inspired. He'd gone with her out of concern for her safety. Now, this is the third time. I hang up and look at Austin Everett, my childhood sweetheart. He sits across from me, looking leisurely as he taps his emerald-embedded walking cane on the marble floor. I ask, "Do you need a wife?" On my wedding day, Sasha holds up her glass and waits for Jonah to clink it with his. However, his eyes are red as he watches a livestream—it's the wedding of the scion of Everett Group, the country's largest property development company.

Everyone knew I, Isabella Marino, was Vince Moretti's greatest weakness—the one thing the mafia boss would never tolerate being touched. Years ago, when I was kidnapped, Vince disarmed himself at gunpoint, risking death to get me back, even paying his entire fortune for my ransom. To keep me from harm, he walked a razor's edge, navigating danger at every turn. After I got pregnant, he waited on me hand and foot, barely letting my feet touch the ground. There were rumors that he kept a pampered mistress outside—some woman he spoiled rotten. I never believed them. But then she flaunted herself in front of me. To beg for my forgiveness, Vince cut off his own finger. The next day, that woman slapped her pregnancy test results in my face, sneering, "Vince wanted a baby with me so badly, he just couldn't help himself!" I was already frail. The shock and rage sent me into a miscarriage.

I was three months pregnant when my fiancé left me to marry his first love, Isabella Thompson. Soon after, I was in a car accident. I survived, but our baby didn't. My childhood friend, Daniel Smith, found out and insisted on marrying me despite his family's objections. He spent a fortune on the best doctors to ensure I recovered fully. Later, he arranged a grand proposal, confessing he had loved me for years. I was touched and agreed to marry him. But three years later, I overheard his conversation with his friend, Mike Perez. "Remember years ago when Isabella stole Jessica's fiancé? To avoid any future trouble for Isabella, you married Jessica and even caused that car accident, which killed the baby she was carrying. Now, can she even get pregnant anymore?" Mike asked. "No, I love Isabella," Daniel replied. "I just didn't want to have any babies with Jessica, so I put birth control in her water." I trembled, unable to believe what I had heard. It turned out Isabella was also Daniel's first love. I figured it was time for me to leave.

At eight months pregnant, I was hit by a car and gave birth early. But unexpectedly, I regained my hearing. Outside the operating room, my husband was talking to the doctor. “Mr. Griffin, the baby is fully developed and stable. A normal delivery should be possible—” Albert Griffin cut him off immediately, “No, induce the labor now! I promised Summer that I would let our child rightfully join the Griffin family. Paulina is almost a month old. If she gets any older, people will figure out the truth. “If this baby doesn’t make it, that’s fine. She can always have another one. But this is the only way she will truly believe that Paulina is her own child.” I closed my eyes tightly and forced myself to stay calm. He thought his lies were perfect, but he was wrong. I heard everything. And if he could lie and pretend, so could I.