Hypocrisy Novels & Stories

My younger sister, Angela Schrute, got married at 20. By 21, she already had a child. I'm Elizabeth Schrute, 27 years old, and still unmarried. Over the years, I've brought home a few boyfriends. But every time the subject of marriage comes up, my father, Michael Scrute, will take them into his study. I don't know what he said to them. But whenever they come out of that room, they will turn cold and frightening. It's like their hands are itching to wrap around my throat and squeeze the life out of me. My latest boyfriend thinks Dad is being unreasonable… until he follows him into the study. When he emerges, his eyes burn with rage. He breaks up with me on the spot and slaps me. Twice. I still can't figure it out. What is it that drives each of them away? And what secret is hiding in Dad's study?

"Miss Jackson, are you certain you want to undergo hypnosis? You should know that once the hypnosis begins, it cannot be reversed. Your body will be controlled by an alternate personality, and you will fall into a sleep from which you will never wake up again," the doctor asked in a grave tone from the other end of the phone. "Yes, I'm certain," Nina Jackson replied calmly.

At the annual company banquet, the boss had the tables and chairs from the logistics department removed, leaving only a stainless steel dog bowl in the center of the stage. "Logistics is just the company's watchdog," he said coldly. "Since when do watchdogs sit at the table and eat?" The top sales champion laughed as he dumped leftovers into the bowl. The boss casually slipped a black garbage bag over my shoulders. "From now on, you're the company's living trash can. Catch it properly." Laughter erupted across the room. Amid the jeers, I silently tightened my grip on the universal access card in my hand. What they didn't know was that the building's special approvals for water and electricity—and all its property management connections—were maintained by this very "dog face" of mine. I tossed my ID badge into the dog bowl and turned to leave. Let's see how long you last once the new year passes—without logistics there to hold everything together.

My boyfriend, Landon Schmidt, has sold his assets just to support me in building my livestreaming career. But when I become a famous streamer, I steal all of his money and dump him right away. Landon slumps near a river and drinks from it while begging for money in the 104 degree weather. He's exposed to the heat for so long that he almost goes into shock. Meanwhile, all I have to do is push the boundaries on camera, and I'll earn millions of dollars' worth of tips. My best friend, Yvette Carter, thinks that it's unfair for Landon to suffer like this. She advises me not to bite the hand that had fed me in the past, only for me to slap her in return. "If you pity him this much, you should pay for all of his expenses, then! Why should I pay for a broke and useless man in the first place?" That night, Yvette exposes the recording of our conversation and takes me to court. Tens of thousands of Internet users flood into my stream instantly just so they can ensure that I get judged for my sins.

My husband, Harry Forger, who couldn’t have kids, got a college girl pregnant. He was thrilled and planned to keep it a secret until the baby was born, but I caught him red-handed at the hospital. I completely lost it and demanded to know how he could betray me after all I had done to land 10-billion-dollar deals for him. He just handed me divorce papers and said coldly, “You can’t give me a child, but Claire is already pregnant and needs someone to take care of her. I’m going to marry her and give her a real family. “Sign the papers. If we end things peacefully, you can still have a spot in the company.” I refused, and that’s when his revenge started. He had me thrown in prison and froze all my assets. In the end, he even tied my parents, who both had heart problems, to a drop tower ride. “Sign the divorce papers, and I’ll let them go. If you don’t sign, then watch them die up there.”

I went through surgery at the hospital 99 times because of my boyfriend's fetish. He promised to marry me after the 100th round. I was filled with joy when the final procedure was finished. This was our 100th round of intimacy, and I wanted to give Chad Simmons an unforgettable night. I quietly pushed open the doors of our villa. I heard laughter coming from inside the house and my name being mentioned. It made me pause in my step. "You've got the most high-end social butterfly of the upper social circle wrapped around your little finger, Chad. She's really stupid enough to believe that you'll marry her. "Will she go mad when she finds out that she isn't your bride half a month from now? Will she get her old lovers to destroy your company?" Chad took a puff of his cigarette and said with a smile, "She would never dare to do something like that. I have videos of her sleeping with 99 men. If she does anything to me, I'll post those videos online and make her famous." "You're incredible, Chad! She probably has no idea that she slept with a bunch of old men instead of you!" Everyone started heaping praises on how impressive Chad was. I was stunned. No wonder Chad fed me a glass of milk every time before we slept together. It was to keep me from resisting. I tore up my surgery report and turned to leave. Since I was not his bride, I would make his wishes come true and marry someone else.

In the final second before the elevator crashed down, my husband finally picked up my desperate call for help. I begged him, who was in charge of elevator maintenance, to save me. "That elevator was just serviced. What game are you playing?" he snapped. "Wasn't your silent treatment so strong? Keep going and stop bothering me. It's Marina's birthday today." I never reached out to him again. I died. Later, he'd have given anything just to see me one more time.

After I get hospitalized from a stroke, I tell my son, Raymond Thornton, to come to the hospital and pay for my hospital bills. But my daughter-in-law, Vivian Mills, mumbles in displeasure, "It's just a stroke, isn't it? Why is she being so whiny? Also, she's called you so many times! Is she asking you for help or ordering you to do her bidding?" I pretend to not hear Vivian's words. After that, I waited the whole night for Raymond. The thing is, he never shows up despite the fact that he has agreed to come to the hospital. The next day, he finally calls me on the phone. "Mom, if I'm not mistaken, there should be some money left in your medical insurance, right? Why don't you use that money to pay the bills for the time being? I'll make sure to care for you more in the future!" While Raymond is still making empty promises over the phone, I hear another voice appear in my mind. "Ding! An empty promise has been detected! Fair Balance System is now activated!" "Once I'm back, I'll buy the best medication for you!" "Calculation in progress. The amount deducted for the best medication available is 6599 dollars!" The next moment I know, I receive a text, stating that the money is now in my bank account.

For the nursery's Family Day, my husband, Gary Lane, said that he was busy at work and told our daughter, Emily Lane, and I not to participate in the event. I looked at Emily's disappointed face, my heart ached. Therefore, I decided to take Emily to the event myself. As soon as we arrived at the nursery, we saw Gary carrying a little boy in one hand and holding his childhood sweetheart, Shannon Harvey's hand in the other. They looked like a family of three and were very happy. That was until they saw me and Emily. Gary furrowed his brows a little and then let go of Shannon's hand. "Don't get me wrong, Jasmine. It's not easy for Shannon to raise a child as a single mother. It's the child's fifth birthday today. She wanted him to experience some fatherly love." I looked at him meaningfully, squatted down, and held Emily's hand. "Honey, say hello to Mr. Lane."

Married three years. Stood up three years. Today was the last time I bothered showing up. Surprise—he bailed again. Still clinging to hope like a total idiot, I called. One last shot. "A-Aurora, I'm busy. Just wait," he muttered. And then her voice cut in. All breathy and smug: "That old woman can't satisfy you, huh? Paolo, be gentle." Click. Right on cue, Marco Medici—loyal, patient, saint-like Marco—sent his 99th proposal. This time, I didn't leave him hanging. [Want to come over for bollito misto?]