Hypocrisy

On our seventh wedding anniversary, Harrison Drummond arrives with the woman he's been seeing behind my back. Tears fill Kate McCauley's eyes. Before I even have a chance to speak, she drops to her knees in front of me. "Ms. Kershaw, love isn't about who came first or last. Harrison and I care for each other with all our hearts. Please, let us be together." I turn to look at Harrison. With a heavy heart, he lifts Kate into his arms. The man who's always obsessed with cleanliness now wipes her tears away, not caring about the mess she leaves behind. Without raising his gaze, he says, "Kate has been by my side without any official name or title. I owe her that much. Don't worry, she's not after anything else. Having her here is no more than adding an extra pair of cutlery at the table." With that, he carries Kate into the bedroom and closes the door behind them. He seems to have completely forgotten that today is our wedding anniversary. Does he even remember the other woman who followed him without status seven years ago? I stare at the glowing "Happy Anniversary" sign resting on the table. In that instant, I realize there is no future left for us.

On the day of my daughter’s dance competition, a madman suddenly charged at her with an iron rod. To protect her, I took dozens of hits, and my arm was brutally broken. My husband, William Zafron, caught the madman on the spot and rushed us to his private hospital. In the hospital room, I woke up from the pain and tried to call for William. Then I overheard the doctor asking him, “Weren’t we just replacing the knee joint? Why did you hurt Ms. Nina and kill Ella?” “Nina only has a broken arm and some wounds. Her injuries aren’t fatal.” William replied, “Ella’s purpose was to be an organ carrier for Sophia’s daughter. Now that she has fulfilled her role, there’s no need for her to live. “After all... Sophia’s daughter is my own child.” That was when I realized that my daughter was just an organ carrier to him. What he did not know was that Sophia’s daughter was not even his.

The day my mom was beaten up for being a mistress, I slammed the family crest into my dad’s face. I had been studying abroad, and on my return flight, I came across a video. The title read, [Richest Family’s Heirs Defend Their Mom and Beat Up Mistress.] In the video, my mother was wearing coarse linen clothes while my brothers surrounded her. They were punching and kicking her. They even tore her clothes and cussed her out as a shameless mistress. Her eyes were teary as she desperately tried to explain. However, she was only met with mocking laughter. A stranger in haute couture stood shielded behind them, and she sweetly said, “Alright, I know you’re doing this for me, but we don’t need to waste our time on ungrateful people.” The surrounding guests showered her with birthday wishes and praised her for her graciousness. “This is the grace befitting Mrs. Roth! Do some people really not own a mirror at home?” “A mistress dares to call herself Mrs. Roth? Doesn’t she know the entire Roth family was built on her assets? Which part of her looks like a lady?” Hearing them call her “Mrs. Roth,” I clenched my phone, and the screen reflected my icy expression. I had only been away from home for three years. How did I not know that I had acquired such a despicable “mother”?

I used to be so happy with my husband, Ian Shaw, until his first love got too drunk one day and was taken away by five strange men for an entire night. To protect her reputation, he told everyone that I was the one who was kidnapped that night. Everyone criticized me, calling the baby in my belly a child of shame. I questioned Ian hysterically, but he said nonchalantly, "Ruby isn’t married yet. People will laugh at her if the news spreads." I looked icily at the man I had loved for six years, shock taking over as I realized he had probably never loved me back.

To get me to agree to a divorce, my husband lied and told me he had stomach cancer. I glanced at the medical report in my bag and said nothing. Instead, I broke down right then and there, sobbing like my heart was being ripped apart, absolutely refusing to divorce him. Because what he didn't know… was that he actually had cancer. Just not stomach cancer—liver cancer. And with his funeral coming up soon, if we divorced now, who would inherit all his assets? No way. I couldn't let this divorce happen!

My boyfriend's childhood friend got knocked up. To save her rep, Quentin Palmer married her. When I asked what that meant for me—and our baby—he stayed ice-calm. "Rainee's not like you. I'm all she's got. She wouldn't survive the gossip." Like I had anyone else? Like I wasn't carrying his baby too? Later, while people laughed behind my back about the "fatherless" kid I was having, Quentin just stood there—next to Rainee, silent. That's when it hit me—love comes with a pecking order. So I ended the pregnancy. Gave up my baby... all so he could play the hero for her.

When I saw my best friend tending to the elderly man upstairs with such diligence in washing his clothes, cooking his meals, feeding him medicine, and giving him massages, I immediately knew that she had been reborn, too. In my previous life, my best friend and I shared an apartment. We were often awakened in the middle of the night by the old man’s cough from upstairs. When I went up to check on him, I learned that his legs were paralyzed, and he had no children or family. Out of sympathy, I decided to care for him. I brought him his daily meals and gave him massages. A month later, out of the blue, the old man mysteriously handed me a bank card and said, “There’s eight million here. It’s my reward to you.” With that money, I immediately went and paid off my father’s medical bills. Later, the old man went even further and transferred the ownership of the apartment that we were renting to me. He told me, “When your father is discharged, move in together. That way, I’ll have someone to keep me company, too!” When my best friend learned of this, however, she went ballistic. During the few days I was having trouble sleeping, she had secretly spiked my water with a lethal dose of sleeping pills. She watched as I died in agony. After my death, my boyfriend, posing as my fiancé, cut off my father’s medical bills and took away the old man’s bank card. Meanwhile, my best friend spread slanderous rumors among the neighbors, claiming the old man gave me money because I had sold myself to him. Half a year later, the two got married and paid in full for a luxury apartment in the city centre. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on that very day when the old man upstairs was coughing uncontrollably.

The entire world froze. Overnight, the city plunged to –40 °F. Yet, in the middle of this frozen apocalypse, my mother, my sister and her son moved into the home I bought for my marriage. Even my own husband took my sister’s side. They threw me out into the freezing cold to scavenge for supplies. I came back frozen half to death, and they had not even saved me a bowl of warm soup. Then, my sister shoved me straight off the fifth-floor landing. In that bitter cold, my body hit the ground and shattered like glass. When I woke again, I found myself back in the week before the apocalypse struck. This time, I resolved to cut them all off. I would make every last one of them pay.

My sister-in-law, Sabrina Linskey, never hides her hatred for me. Yet, on my daughter Elena Satchwell's birthday, she does something I can never imagine. She gives Elena a dress, claiming she had sewn it by hand. She calls it a blessing for Elena's health and safety. I let her ease the dress onto Elena, relief washing over me as I convince myself that Sabrina finally understands the importance of upholding peace in the family. But Elena's skin begins to fester, until even the lightest touch makes her flinch in pain. That's when I realize Elena's fate has been swapped with Sabrina's son's. Mom and Dad, along with my brother, know all about it. Elena, beyond saying, eventually dies. I, too, am killed the moment I uncover the truth. But when I open my eyes again, I return to the day Sabrina arrives with that dress for Elena's birthday.

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…"