Contos e Romances de Face Slapping

My best friend called me sobbing at two in the morning, saying she owed three hundred thousand dollars in online loans and was begging me to save her life. I told her I'd help cover half. She grabbed my phone and transferred all three hundred thousand. "It's just money—why are you being so stingy? You make six figures. Helping me out shouldn't be a big deal." I swallowed it. A month later, she posted Maldives vacation photos on Instagram. When I asked when she planned to pay me back, she replied—right there in the comments, where every mutual friend could see— "God, stop nagging. Maybe spend that energy making more money instead, you cheapskate. So annoying." I screenshotted everything. Then I opened the civil complaint I'd already drafted. This kind of best friend? We could catch up in court.

On the day of my ninth wedding attempt, my fiancé, Lucas Yearwood, leaves me jilted again. This time, I follow him. I see him holding his adoptive sister's hand as they walk into the obstetrics department. "Lucas, I dreamed that we're having a boy—he's definitely going to be as handsome as you." Watching the two of them laugh and chat like that, I feel my blood freeze. After I chased Lucas for seven years, I got a chance to use a debt of gratitude to force a marriage contract out of him. I backed him into a corner to make him marry me. Everyone thinks I can't survive without him. But this time, I hand the marriage contract back and leave him without looking back. On my wedding day, he calls me. "Viv! Where are you right now?" I'm in the shower. My new husband picks up the call for me. "Do you have business with my wife?" Later, I hear Lucas turned all of Riverville upside down, digging through every trash can to find our marriage contract.

Out on a holiday with my boyfriend, Jack, and my good friend, Eva, a catastrophe occurred. As the floods came, we waited for the rescue helicopter to come. As I fastened the safety rope, I noticed that my metal safety clip had been swapped for a plastic ring. Climbing up the rope ladder, Jack said nonchalantly, "Eva's luggage is heavy. She needs another safety clip, so I gave her yours. You can wait for the next rescue." I replied in a panic, pointing at the water level already past my chest, "But I can't swim!" Jack replied irritatedly, "Naomi, stop causing a scene! You're a strong swimmer, what's a little time in the water? Eva is my boss's relative. If something happens to her, my promotion is gone. Why can't you understand that?" "Which matters more? My life or her luggage?" I reached for the rope ladder when he kicked my hand away. "I've studied the waters. The flood won't rise so quickly. It will at most be at the level of your neck. You won't die!" I said nothing further. Watching the floods rise crazily, I quickly pressed my family's special alarm on my wrist.

On the day I was finally set to bond with Alric Thorne, my childhood sweetheart and the Alpha, he volunteered to endure 99 lashes to apologize to the entire pack for my inability to bear children. I was touched that he'd taken all the blame for me. Then, right in front of the entire pack, he announced that he would mark both me and my older sister, Yvette Hale. Alric kissed the tears from my cheek. "Sigrid, I'm only marking Yvette so she isn't giving me an heir for nothing! You're my only Luna!" That night, he spent two hours in my sister's room. The pain that burned through our mate bond nearly consumed me. After that, as if to make it up to me, he spent every day practicing archery and hunting with me. Even when my sister suffered severe postpartum bleeding, he didn't even visit her. And my sister never once set foot in the Alpha's hall on her own. I accepted the arrangement, hoping that once my sister gave birth to an heir, we could finally put an end to it. But seven years passed, and Yvette gave birth to three daughters, none of whom were eligible to inherit the Alpha title. Then one day, I overheard Osric, the pack healer, talking with Alric. "I've prepared another tonic for Yvette. I guarantee her next pup will be a girl, too. But are you sure the Luna won't get suspicious?" Alric paused. "Seven years, and she still insists on having her way. Why can't she be more like Yvette? At least Yvette knows her place. We're only doing this to spare her feelings. If she'd just step aside on her own, it would make things so much easier." My heart felt like it was bleeding. During the border war, I shielded him from three enemy arrows, taking every hit myself. Even with my wounds, I unleashed the last of my white wolf's power, saving his life and winning the battle. When I was on the brink of death, he kissed me, weeping as he swore he'd marry me if I would just open my eyes. He called to my wolf again and again until she finally woke. I lost the ability to have children, and I married into the Frostmoon pack with the honors I'd earned in the war. And after all that, all I got in return was a lie. The only one he had ever loved was my sister. I looked toward the distant mountains. My wolf and I lay weak beneath an old tree. I hadn't told him the truth: he didn't need to keep lying to me. I had barely a year left to live.

Chris Shaw promised that we would finally get our marriage licence next month. He told me he had secured the first appointment slot in the coming month. It was the third time he had brought up marriage. The first was during Valentine's. Chris called to say that city hall had unexpectedly opened a few last-minute slots and told me to hurry over and wait in line. It was pouring with rain. I waited the whole day and only received a video from his best friend. Chris was playing snooker as he mocked, "Told you she'd do everything I told her to. Just like a dog." The second time was on Labor Day. Chris sent me an address for another city hall, dozens of miles away in the middle of nowhere. I spent two hours rushing over, but there was no one there. It was just a construction site. My best friend sent me snapshots of a bet they made, and she guffawed. "I bet she would actually go, and I won a thousand." And this time, everyone looked at me with mockery in their eyes. I dressed up for the occasion. "You actually showed up. How gullible are you?" I clenched my papers and said nothing. The car door opened, and out came Chris, his arm around Yvonne Gray, his true love. It had been a month since we met, yet he was still cavalier, and he casually waved the marriage application in his hand. "Yvonne's family is rushing her into a marriage, so we'll get a license to shut them up. Do as I say, and I'll consider getting one with you." I stared at him. Ten years of love, patience, and waiting. And suddenly, whatever I had once felt for him withered away like a plant that had gone too long without water. So I took out my phone and called someone else. "I got the slot. What's your ETA?"

Everyone thought Sophia Collins was the poor fake heiress. She lost her place in the Collins family, got sent to a brutal obedience academy, and spent three years eating dog food, sleeping in kennels, and wearing a leash like an animal. When my father finally brought her home, she knelt in front of him, covered in bruises, and sobbed, “Dad, I’ll behave. Please don’t let Ava chain me like a dog again.” Everyone looked at me like I was a monster. What they didn’t know was that Sophia had once stolen my body. In my last life, I was the one trapped in that academy. I was the one beaten, humiliated, and forced to bark on my knees. Then she switched our souls back and framed me for everything. My father believed her. He broke my legs and threw me into a dog cage. But this time, I came back before the nightmare began. And when Sophia stole my body again, she thought she had won. She didn’t know I had already turned her own trap into mine.

When I first met Damian Corsetti, he was just one of the Don's many illegitimate sons. He was living a wretched life back then, but his ambition burned all the brighter. "Velia, trust me. One day I'll become the Don, and you'll be the only woman by my side." His confidence won me over. From that day on, I became the deadliest weapon he had. I handled all the dirty work for him. Some questioned his bloodline. I dug up their families' darkest secrets until they had no choice but to swear loyalty to him. Once, I stayed awake for ten days to hunt down a traitor. I caught him moments before he could carry out an assassination. In just a few years, I had become one of the most wanted enemies of nearly every rival Family. And Damian finally became the Don. On the night of his succession ceremony, he walked toward me in a tailored black suit, a bouquet of red roses in his hands. He was finally going to keep his promise. Once he became the Don, he would propose to me. For the first time in years, I lowered my eyes, almost shy. But Damian walked right past me and offered the roses to the woman in the white dress standing behind me. "Vera, will you marry me and become the Don's wife?" Tears streamed down Vera's face as she nodded. Then they kissed, completely lost in each other. The smile froze on my face.

It was near the end of May when I got off my night shift and got a call from my younger self, right before the SAT. "Eight years from now, am I happy? Am I living abroad, or working at Collins Corporation? "Charlotte said I don't need the SAT. She's taking me overseas." He sounded excited, already planning to spend the next few days doing whatever he wanted. I looked down at the grease on my uniform. Behind me was a cramped factory dorm, a cramped room packed with 12 beds. "Charlotte's getting married today," I said. "But you're not the groom." He sucked in a breath. "That's impossible. She said she'd marry me." Last night, Charlotte Collins texted me. [Don't come tomorrow. You work at a factory. You'll embarrass me.] His voice caught. "Who is it? Do I know him?" I said calmly, "Open the math worksheet in your bag. Finish it, and I'll tell you who she's marrying."

Jason Gibson was trending online as the internet's textbook "devoted husband". It all started when a behind-the-scenes camera caught him during a meeting break, casually transferring tens of thousands of dollars to my account alongside a photo reporting his whereabouts. The comments worshipped him. [This is a real man's mindset. Where his money goes, his heart follows.] From building our company from scratch to taking it public, we had walked side-by-side for ten whole years. During our broke days, I survived by collecting plastic bottles off the streets just to scrape together five bucks for our meals. Back then, he held me and swore, "Once I build this company, I'll never let you live another poor day in your life." So even as he grew busier over the years, I believed those on-time bank transfers were proof we were still deeply in love. That was until my training workshop wrapped up early, and wanting to give him a sweet surprise, I snuck back home unannounced. The master bedroom door stood slightly ajar as a woman's breathless, ragged pants drifted out. "Ten grand for a kiss, fifty grand for sex, plus another thirty grand if you don't use a condom. You went way more than once last night, Mr. Gibson. How much hush money are you planning to send your wife this time?" Jason let out a low grunt. "Shut up." Standing in the hallway, I gripped my phone tightly. My screen was showing last night's transfer notification of three thousand and eighty thousand dollars. That meant seven times without protection. At the time, I had even joked that I was only away for a few days of training and didn't need that much cash. Only now did I finally get it. What he was sending me was never peace of mind. It was nothing more than an indulgence ticket, a price tag to blind my eyes to his betrayal.

I've worked hard to sponsor my husband, Zachary Sanders, through his PhD studies for eight years. In order for our daughter, Penelope Sanders, to get into a prestigious elementary school, I've visited the local registry office ten times. Yet, my applications keep getting rejected all the time. On my tenth visit, the helpless employee decides to reveal the truth to me. "Ma'am, I told you that something's wrong with the paperwork you brought! Three children have already used the permanent address you provided to enroll in our school. You can't use the address for the fourth time according to the rules." After that, the employee turns the monitor in my direction to show me the information. To my shock, those three children's mother is Zachary's first love, Amelia Norris. Unable to believe my eyes, I call Zachary on the spot. But he tells me nonchalantly, "Yeah, I did use our permanent address. I did this so that Amelia's children can get enrolled into good schools. It's very difficult for a single mother like her to raise all three children on her own, you know. "Besides, Penelope is still very young. She can just get enrolled into a regular elementary school. Once Amelia's children have graduated, Penelope can use a slot meant for the prestigious elementary school." I do my best to suppress my rage as I retort, "No need for that. My daughter will not be waiting for hand-me-downs." Then, I call my assistant right away. "Tell the admissions office to void all three enrollment slots that are tied to my property in the school district. Also, I want you to suspend the funding of his project in that research institute!"

After I handed my husband my pregnancy report, he froze. That night, I heard him get up and head to his study. I quietly followed him. He was on a video call with his adopted sister, Penelope. "Is she really pregnant, Harrison? What are we going to do? Are you going to leave me?" "You silly girl. How could I ever leave you? I only married her to appease my dad and secure my inheritance of Westbrook Group. Once I have full control of the company, I'll divorce her at once." I quietly pulled out my phone and started recording. I finally had the proof I needed. It was a marriage of convenience. I was exhausted by it.

After my dad has retired, I give him 5,000 dollars for his living expenses every month. Coupled with his monthly pension of 2,000 dollars, I thought Dad would be living a great life back in our hometown. Little do I know that the hospital calls me the next day, telling me that Dad has fainted from low blood sugar due to starvation, which leads to him getting sent to the ER. I'm stunned, to say the least. How can Dad starve to the point of getting hospitalized when he's living off 7,000 dollars per month? So, I rush back to my hometown overnight. In the ward, Dad is all skin and bones. He's lost so much weight that his cheekbones can be seen protruding. The moment he sees me entering the ward, he tries to get out of bed. "I want to get discharged! I'm not staying in the hospital! I don't have any money to get hospitalized!" I quickly stop Dad. "Dad, you get 7,000 dollars per month! Why don't you have any money at all?" He glares at me hatefully. "I don't have 7,000 dollars per month! Every month, you give me 200 dollars! You even stole my pension from me! As if I have any money to get hospitalized right now! "If not for the fact that I got up early just to rummage for junk over the past few years, I'd have died of starvation a long time ago!" Everyone in the ward turns to look at me. Meanwhile, my mind goes blank. The thing is, I do give Dad 5,000 dollars every month. I really want to explain the truth to Dad, but he's already crying about how I've kept his money for myself. He also claims that I don't care about him when he gets sick, and that I'm a total ingrate. Someone has recorded the whole outburst. Naturally, the tagline "Ungrateful Son Keeps Father's Money All to Himself" goes viral the next day. My name, my workplace, and my address are quickly dug up by the angry Internet users. Someone even goes so far to splash red paint onto my front door. Because of that, I get fired from my workplace. My landlord doesn't hesitate to kick me out as well. Feeling very dazed, I walk on the street, only to get hit by an incoming truck. When I open my eyes again, I've returned to the day I transfer the 5,000 dollars to Dad.

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.”

My in-laws were hit by a car crash. I called my husband, begging him to give me some money to pay the hospital bill. He said, "Oh, if you want money, just come out with it. That excuse is terrible!" He hung up on me. Despite how unfair it felt, I had to call him again. This time, a voice I was familiar with hit my ears. A woman's voice. "Chris, I got a bit too much sunscreen on my hand. Can I smear the rest on your abs?" Lovingly, my husband said, "You little troublemaker." His parents died that night. Overseas.

At the National High School Football All-Star Game, my boyfriend Evan had just been named MVP. Sophia, the cheer captain, immediately posted on Instagram. Caption: "Guess who got a little something from the champion himself~" The photo turned out to be a pair of Evan's worn underwear! Scrawled across them in lipstick were the words: "For my dearest Sophia." She held them up with her long acrylic nails, pouting for the selfie. The internet exploded. "Why does she have his underwear?" "Isn't it obvious? They're totally together." "Sitting here waiting for the official couple photo." Within seconds, a close-up of the two of them cheek-to-cheek surfaced in the comments. Congratulations and teasing flooded the feed. I gripped my phone, a chill spreading through my entire body. Evan had promised to go public about us ages ago but kept putting it off, saying he needed to prove himself first. He'd been stalling ever since. Now here I was, his actual girlfriend, and I didn't even get an invite to his victory party. I took a deep breath and called him. "Explain." On the other end, Evan's voice was lazy, almost amused. "The fans grabbed everything off me. Jersey, pads, all of it. Sophia insisted on keeping something as a souvenir, so I gave her the underwear. No big deal." "The Instagram post is just riding the hype. Don't be so uptight about it." Then Sophia's voice chimed in. "Yeah, honey, Evan and I are like brothers! I've seen everything on him already. It's just a pair of boxers, so don't be so petty." I listened to their increasingly flirtatious banter through the speaker, then slowly pulled off my engagement ring and tossed it aside. "Fine," I said to Evan. "I'll be the bigger person. Why don't you skip the 'girl bro' thing and just make her your girlfriend? I'm tired of watching this act."

To save my father-in-law, I donated a kidney—but on the very day I was discharged, she didn't hesitate for a second to shove me into the guest room. "Those centipede-like scars are disgusting. Don't show yourself to me again!" In the dead of night, my wound tore open. I collapsed into a pool of blood, dialing her number 100 times, desperate for help. She hung up every single time. Meanwhile, the master bedroom echoed with Theo Reynold's low, passionate growls. In that instant, every ounce of strength drained from me. When I was admitted to the hospital, I held the military medal my mother had left me on her deathbed. That was when I remembered the woman even the mayor bowed to when she walked into a room. Without thinking, I dialed the long-forgotten number. "Commander Jennings, you once said you owed my mother a debt of gratitude. Now… I want you to marry me."

Just because I post one picture with my younger brother, Lucas Gambino, his girlfriend Betty Gotti decides I'm the other woman. She rolls up to my place with her crew, live‑streaming the whole thing while they tear it apart. "Look at this puttana trying to steal my man!" Betty shouts to the camera. "She's got the face to flirt, but not the spine to admit it! Give me ideas, chat—I'll teach her some respect." Those psychos destroyed everything. My jewelry, my designer clothes, my bags… they didn't spare a thing. Not even the ring my parents left me. Then, with the viewers egging her on, Betty crossed the line. She had her girls strip me bare on stream. Her chat was going wild, donations pouring in—until my brother saw it. When Lucas kicked in the door to pull me out, I looked at him through eyes that burned. "Dump the girlfriend," I told him. "Or you can forget about ever being the Don."

Right before Memorial Day weekend, I finally land a rush order from an overseas client, but they insist on delivery on the first day after the holiday. The factory has been sitting idle for two weeks, and the profit from this single order is enough to keep the entire company running for the next six months. I immediately post a notice in the company group chat. "Anyone willing to work over the holiday weekend gets paid five times their base rate, but it's completely voluntary." Nobody takes the offer. Instead, the new intern, Howard Chase, screenshots my message and posts it online. "Heartless boss treats us like machines and forces us to give up Memorial Day weekend." To make matters worse, a few veteran workers chime in with skepticism. "I've never seen anyone actually get paid five times the base rate. I'll believe it when I see it." That very night, the post goes viral, and the onslaught of online criticism forces me to turn off my phone. What's even more absurd is that Howard secretly creates another group chat to rally the workers and pressure me into increasing the pay even more. The next day, I hold a meeting and lay out the cost sheet right in front of everyone. "Paying you five times your base rate already eats up 80% of the profit from this order. The rest has to cover our rent for the second half of the year. I'm not keeping a single dime for myself." I figure laying all my cards on the table like this will make them understand. But Howard immediately goes back to the group chat and stirs everyone up. "Don't back down, everyone! He can definitely pay more. Hold the line until he gives us ten times the base rate!" That's when I lose faith in them completely. I spend the whole night thinking it over, and by morning I know exactly what to do. At the meeting the next day, I announce with a smile, "Management accepts everyone's criticism and will make major changes. Everyone gets the entire Memorial Day weekend off. Not a single day of overtime." Everyone freezes. Someone quietly asks what I am going to do about the order. "I outsourced it. At five times the normal rate, plenty of people are happy to jump at the chance," I reply. By that afternoon, the outsourcing contract is signed, and the client has signed off on the arrangement. Once that sinks in, every single worker starts to panic.

In my past life, right before sitting for the college entrance exams, my best friend, Lily Shaw, and I made a pact. We promised that once we got into college, we would study finance and make a fortune. But because my exam went smoothly and I was the first to leave the exam room, I ended up on camera for an interview. Somehow, I blew up overnight. Years later, I became a top celebrity, while Lily was sent to prison for financial fraud. When she got out, I gave her a million dollars to help her get back on her feet. She repaid me by quietly forging lies about me, whipping up a wave of online hate, and doing everything she could to destroy me. I traced the truth and confronted her, but she snapped back at me, "What gives you the right to stare down at me from your lofty throne and throw me scraps, Hannah Linden? I'm prettier than you, and my grades were better than yours. Why did you get the better life?" She laid out a plan to get back at me. She knocked me out and slashed my face. She also gouged out my eyes and cut out my tongue before stuffing me into a freezer, leaving me there to freeze to death. When I open my eyes again, I find myself reborn in my senior-year classroom. There's just over a month left for the college entrance exams. I look at Lily, who sits to my left and whispers to me. I smile at her, my eyes glinting with ice and venom.

Marcus Dawson put a price on everything. If he decided something wasn't worth the money, he refused to pay for it. I had broken my right leg saving his life. Even then, he refused to buy me the custom orthopedic brace that would protect my healing leg. "You won't need a brace for that long. It's such a waste of money." "Be reasonable, Ren. I'll get you the best crutches instead. Walking more will help you recover, and they won't cost nearly as much." I was quiet for a long moment. Then I whispered, "Okay." But minutes earlier, I'd seen a new Facebook post from my best friend, Jessica Vance: a five-thousand-dollar designer handbag with one breezy word in the caption. "Surprise." The hand holding the bag was blurred, but I would have known the fresh scar on that forearm anywhere. Marcus had gotten it in a car accident only weeks ago. It was Marcus. A five-thousand-dollar brace was a waste. A five-thousand-dollar bag was a surprise. The same number was excessive when it was spent on me and romantic when it was spent on her. I'd always assumed he was just being frugal. Now I realized he'd done the math a long time ago. My leg wasn't worth five thousand dollars. And neither was I. I pulled out my phone and dialed a number I hadn't called in a long time. "Nathan, I want to come home."