Masked Emotions Mga Nobela at Kwento

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?"

Less than three months after my wife passed away, my sister-in-law started pressuring me to clear out my room. "Look, I'm not trying to kick you out, Graham. Donovan wants to renovate your bedroom. The sooner you pack up, the sooner we can start the work. Besides, you married into the family. Now that Arya is gone, it doesn't make sense for you to keep living with us." My mother-in-law paused mid-bite, pretending not to hear. Donovan Marlowe kept his head down, eating in silence. Seeing I did not respond, she continued, "Don't get me wrong. I'm just worried people will gossip about you." Only then did I look up at her, my tone calm. "Thanks for the concern, Sloane. But I'm not afraid of gossip." After all, the house was registered in my name.

In the Pediatric Intensive Care Unit, a sudden power outage occurred. As the doctor on night duty, I remained calm and didn't panic, nor did I call for help. I calmly waited as the temperatures of the incubators where the babies lay slowly dropped... In my previous life, when the pediatric department lost power, I immediately switched to the backup power sources to ensure the children's safety. After doing everything I was supposed to do, I sat down to take a breather and took a sip of water. Suddenly, my coworkers rushed in, waking me up. "Dr. Luther, you're a healthcare staff, how could you kill those children?!" "You froze them to death! How vicious! You'll pay for this!" Only then did I realize that all the children had died, without exception. The police took me away. They said I was the only one in the room and they found my fingerprints on the thermostat. My son then produced a video to assist in the investigation. "She often complained about the patients being a bother and hoped they would all die." Enraged family members cornered me in an alley and tortured me for ten hours until I died. But until my last breath, I couldn't understand how the children could have frozen to death in a thermostatically-controlled environment. And why did my own son provide a fake video to frame me? Suddenly, I jolted awake. I found myself waking up on the day of the power outage.

The day my brother, Chester Rodney, came to the orphanage to take me home, my boyfriend Dominic Huxley looked at me coldly and said, "If you choose to acknowledge your birth family, we're over." I knew he had his pride—he could never accept the difference in our social standing. So, for him, I turned my back on the family I had yearned for my whole life. In the decades that followed, I toiled without complaint, saving every cent to help him rise to success. By the time I was not yet fifty, overwork had worn me down. Lying on my deathbed, my breathing shallow and weak, I watched Dominic on television. He was now an acclaimed scientist, just awarded the nation's highest research honor. Tears welled in his eyes as he thanked another woman. "All these years," he said, "I never felt worthy of Alicia. But now, maybe I can use this award as the prologue to a love I've owed her for decades." The "Alicia" he spoke of was the woman mistakenly switched with me at birth—the false heiress the Rodney family raised as their own. The camera zoomed out. Alicia Rodney stood radiant, graceful, and perfectly preserved by years of luxury, blushing as she accepted the trophy. "I waited for you for decades," she said sweetly, "but marriage is still something I'll need to ask my brother about." Chester, who had long taken over the family, looked at her with an indulgent tenderness tinged with something unspoken. "I was adopted by our uncle back then for one reason—to protect Alicia. Making the only princess of the Rodney family happy has always been my life's mission." Only then did I realize—everything I thought I had chosen freely, every sacrifice I made without regret, was nothing but a trap, carefully woven by two men, all for Alicia. The betrayal pierced my heart. I died without peace. But when I opened my eyes again, I was back on the very day Chester came to take me home from the orphanage. I glanced past the two men eyeing me with subtle disdain. Without hesitation, I stepped into the car. "Take me home," I said. This time, I'd send whoever stole my life back to the gutter they slithered from.

Three years ago, during our marking ceremony, my fated mate suddenly proposed to my stepsister, Ashley Calisto. When I was publicly humiliated, Owen Wagner, Alpha of the pack and president of the Wolf Alliance, started to pursue me obsessively. A few months later, I became his Luna. He has treated me with great care and tenderness for the past three years. That is, until I get pregnant and accidentally overhear his secret conversation with a witch. "I need a potion that will kill the pup in her womb without her noticing," Owen says. The witch asks in confusion, "Alpha Owen, why don't you want this heir?" Owen replies coldly, "The only one worthy of bearing my pup is Ashley. This entire thing had been orchestrated to protect Ashley anyway." So, all this tenderness has just been part of a carefully crafted lie. If that's the case, I'll let them have each other.

Drenched in mud, I've just climbed down the scaffolding and started munching on a cold piece of stale bread when a luxury car speeds past me, effectively drenching me in muddy water. The car window on the driver's side is quickly lowered. A sleazy guy hurls a pack of cigarettes in my face the next moment. "Hey, peasant! This is a reward for you! I got really lucky today, after all!" While I pick up the cigarette pack silently, the man happens to be boasting loudly to the woman sitting in the front passenger seat. "My brother-in-law really is an idiot! He seriously thinks that my sister has a terminal disease! He went to the black market last night night just to sell his blood in exchange for 200 thousand dollars' worth of surgical fees! I end up winning double in the casino with that money of his! "My sister told me that once that idiot gets his hands on the work injury compensation, she'll divorce him right away and buy me a new home!" I grip the bread so hard that it crumples in my hand. After all, my wife, Estella Wilson, was just diagnosed with "late-stage stomach cancer" yesterday. Suddenly, I feel my phone buzzing in my pocket. It's a voice message from Estella. "Hubby, it hurts so much going through the chemotherapy! The doctor told me that I'd be eligible for better medication if we could cough up another 200 thousand dollars. Can you please plead to the foreman and borrow some money from him?"

Even before marrying Wayne Cooper, I knew he had a fierce sister-in-law. He would always tell me to never get into a fight with her. After we marry, we spend Christmas Eve at his parents' house for the first time. I'm forced to bustle around in the kitchen as I prepare a feast for over a dozen people. Meanwhile, Wayne's family lounges in the living room. They chatter away while enjoying the fruits I've washed and sliced. As I place the last dish on the table, Wayne's brother and sister-in-law, Kyle Cooper and Lucy Wren, arrive. When I want to take my seat, I discover there isn't one for me. That's when Lucy snorts and says sarcastically, "I heard you're a good wife who's obedient and easygoing, Melanie. I have to say that your cooking is… mediocre, though." This infuriates me. I'm about to retort when she turns to my mother-in-law. She says, "I think you should do the cooking from now on, Gloria. Your food is delicious…"

When I took my five-year-old son, Ethan Drake, for a routine medical checkup, I noticed an additional renal function test listed on the report. “This is a mandatory item for kidney donor matching. Didn’t you know?” the nurse asked. Her explanation left me confused. “The checkup I booked didn’t include this test. Could there have been a mistake?” “There’s no mistake. The appointment was made by Ms. Serena Vaughn. She specifically added this item.” The Serena the nurse mentioned was my wife. At that moment, my sharp eyes caught another form in her hand: [Diagnosis: Polycystic Kidney Disease. Patient: Noah Vaughn. Family: Serena Vaughn.] I immediately called Serena. “The nurse said you scheduled a kidney donor matching test for our son. What’s going on?” There was a three-second pause before she spoke. “The nurse must have made a mistake. I’ve been busy lately. Don’t call me if there’s nothing important.” I smiled and told her I’d do that. Then I turned to the nurse and asked, “Which ward is Noah staying in?”

To ensure fairness, my daughter said that she would draw lots to choose whose family to spend the New Year’s with every year. However, for the past nine years, she had spent the New Year’s with her in-laws. The latest draw was no different. On New Year’s Eve, my daughter gave me specific instructions. “Mom, we’re spending the New Year’s with my in-laws. We’ve made a reservation at the most expensive restaurant in town. Please help me save some money. You can just make some food at home for your dinner.” Hence, on New Year’s Eve, I ate alone while watching TV at home. When I stood up, I accidentally knocked over the raffle box. All the lots inside the box had my daughter’s handwriting. The words ‘in-laws’ were clearly written on every single one of them. For the past ten years, the lots had been fake. My daughter was willingly spending the New Year’s celebration with her in-laws, and she had never once thought of spending it with me, her biological mother, who had spent so much money on her. At the same time, I got a notification on my phone. Her mother-in-law posted something on social media. [My daughter-in-law is so lovely. She bought me so many gifts and chose to spend the New Year’s with us. It’s as if she’s our own daughter!] They smiled brightly in the video. On the table were gifts that she bought using my retirement fund. I did not sleep for the whole night. The next morning, I called the bank. “Please remove all the auto-debit accounts from my retirement account.” From then on, I would only spend my money on myself.

To get their hands on money so that my younger brother can get married and buy a house, my parents take me to the family tribunal. They show up in ragged clothes, accusing me of being ungrateful and heartless toward my own family. If I'm found guilty, I will be sentenced to life imprisonment. All my assets will go to my parents and my brother. But if I'm not guilty, they will suffer the full backlash instead. I sit on the stand wearing a trendy designer dress and holding a limited-edition handbag. My face full of disdain, I say, "They can sue me all they want! I'd rather die than financially support them!" The court attendees are outraged and start condemning me one after another. But the moment the trial light lights up, everyone freezes in shock.