How To Confront Someone Who Keeps Playing Victim?

They say that when you love someone, tell them. I told him and we became lovers- a celebrated couple and business partners. I was the veritable Cinderella who has caught her Prince Charming. We had two blissful years until I woke up to the harsh reality that he never loved me and was just a stand-in for his true love. After a tragic incident, my Prince Charming turned into my worst nightmare. Overnight, he stripped me of my identity and everything that goes with it: name, wealth and protection. He let me suffer humiliation and pain. He left me broken and almost made me lose my precious sons. The children he did not deserve to know about. Now, I am back on my feet. With the help of my four long-lost brothers, I regained everything my ex-husband took away from me. With an empire behind me, it's time for revenge. “It's time to make you pay for what you have put me through. And I won't stop until I win.” “Now, who lost everything, my dear Ex? Certainly not me.”

Iris Glover and Stanley Stein shared seven years together—three of dating and four of marriage. Their relationship unraveled when Stanley chose to believe the homewrecker and prosecuted Iris in court himself. The question, "Do you plead guilty?" shattered Iris' heart. She fought fiercely in court, proved her innocence, and exposed the homewrecker's true nature. Upon her acquittal, she told Stanley, "Let's get a divorce." He replied, "Don't you regret it, Iris," believing she was merely throwing a tantrum. When they crossed paths again, Stanley asked, "Have you come to reconcile?" Iris retorted, "Being so delusional is an illness; seek help." Every time she got mad, she always went back to him once she calmed down, but not this time. It wasn't until Iris emerged as a successful lawyer standing opposite him in court that Stanley realized she had changed; she no longer belonged to him. In a moment of desperation, he pleaded, "Iris, I still love you. Please come back to me." Iris, now strong and resolute, replied, "The reason I improved myself is thanks to you, not for you. Mr. Stein, please step aside; don't stand in my way."

My husband, Chandler Goodwin, claims that he doesn't understand what the phrases "silent treatment" or "giving the cold shoulder" mean. Yet, in the three years we have been married, he has never once spoken to me sweetly. The first time we have a falling out, I remain proud and dignified. We end up ignoring each other for seven days straight. The seventh time we have a cold standoff, I start to panic a little. However, despite trying all sorts of methods, he doesn't back down. The 11th time it happens, I have already learned to work through my emotions myself. Chandler doesn't even need to say anything before I take the initiative to apologize first. I simply think that he's just a naturally indifferent person, that nobody can warm his stone-cold heart. Then, on the third year of our marriage, I accidentally ruin his dress shirt while ironing it. Chandler doesn't say a word, but that very night, he packs his things and moves into a hotel. On the third day of being blocked, I head to his company with a handwritten apology. While passing by his office, I spot him leaning over to shoot his angry assistant a doting smile. "I'm sorry for raising my voice at you just now and upsetting you. It's been 57 minutes since you started ignoring me. Please stop giving me the cold shoulder, alright?" I freeze on the spot, the apology letter in my hand practically burning my fingers. As it turns out, it's not that he doesn't know what the silent treatment means—it's just that I've never been the person he wants to coax.

On the day my internship officially turned into a full-time job, I used the black card my dad gave me to buy a bicycle. The moment Karen Kosner—the office's self-appointed queen of frugality—found out, her face went dark. "Two hundred thousand on a crappy bike? You're not afraid karma's gonna strike you dead for throwing money away like that?" The veins in her forehead bulged, her expression twisted with rage. "What's the point of this useless thing? You can't eat it. A bus pass would've made way more sense. My brother's out there busting his hump for every hard-earned dollar, and you're spending like water. Keep this up, you'll make him jump off a roof." My face dropped. I rubbed the sore spot on my forehead where she'd jabbed me. "Are you out of your mind? I'm spending my own family's money. What the hell does that have to do with your brother or your family?" Karen kept muttering under her breath, but I wasn't about to stand there listening to her crap. I turned and went to get some water. When I came back, the black card in my bag was gone. She leaned toward me, still playing the part of the vicious future sister-in-law. "Who knows which random guy gave you that card. Trashy. I threw it away, so get real and live right with my brother. "From now on, every penny you spend has to go through me. You buy something only if I say yes. I need to break you of this reckless spending habit." My temples throbbed with anger. Fine. So she thought she was some kind of financial genius, did she? We'd settle this nice and slow—once she lost her job and got blacklisted by the entire industry.

Braving a downpour, I delivered a lavish food order, anticipating the hefty commission and a $100 tip. Laughter suddenly echoed from the villa. Someone started, "He really believes your car crash left you paralyzed? He's hustling deliveries to support you and even pawned his dad's heirloom?" Another said, "What if he discovers you're actually a billionaire heiress, just playing poor? He'd probably break down in tears." Jessica Stark toyed with her wine glass. "Guys like him are wired to serve, especially since he always outshone Mark in our school days. This is his comeuppance." I stood in the relentless rain, a bitter chuckle escaping my lips. Turned out, her two-year charade of paralysis was merely to avenge her childhood sweetheart. Her broken legs, deceased parents, and helpless tears were all meticulously crafted lies. Disillusioned, I dialed my estranged tycoon mother. "You win. I'll go through with the arranged marriage."

Inside the mediation room at the police station, my passenger looked disheveled with messy hair and rumpled clothes. She cried as she complained to the police officer, “Sir, it’s him! The Grab driver had bad intentions! He even tried to harass me! “People like him should be put in jail! And I want compensation for the emotional distress he caused me!” Right after she finished speaking, she slumped down on the floor and threw a tantrum. I could not believe someone could be this shameless. All I did was tell her not to smoke in the car, and she falsely accused me of harassing her. On top of it, I was a woman too! It was just that I usually dressed less femininely. How could I possibly have harassed her?