Plot Twists Imagination Short Stories & Mistress Face Slapping Novels

Led by my ex-boyfriend, the police raid the base of the major crime syndicate. The antagonist takes his own life, and the only person who could prove my identity as a top-secret undercover operative died two weeks ago. My ex-boyfriend drags me into court. He wants my memories extracted so I can face public judgment and sentencing. Nevertheless, I have no intention of explaining myself. "I plead guilty. Grant me a swift death." The masses are outraged, despising me with every fiber of their being. "Ha! You despicable traitor! You monster! You're a rat who exposes undercover journalists, yet you dare ask for a swift death? "This is the world of a novel. The maximum penalty for a guilty plea is euthanasia, but if judgment is passed by the court, you will suffer endless torment until your last breath!" "You don't deserve euthanasia. You belong in hell!" Rotten eggs and stones pelt me mercilessly. Even with my face now covered in blood, I make no effort to avoid the assaults. I only longed for death. My ex-boyfriend glares at me coldly. "You betrayed me. What right do you have to ask for a swift death? Your memories must be extracted and judged in court. Death will come only after your torment!" They are the ones who demand my memories be extracted and judged, yet after seeing them, why are they also the ones who go mad with regret?

My adopted brother made a name for himself during the potion competition by using a potion he had stolen from me. No one expected the competition to be a ruse, but it turned out to be a scheme to find a husband for the serpent clan's youngest princess. She was born barren, cruel, and hideous. That very night, the serpent clan delivered a marriage contract, demanding that the creator of the potion take the princess as his wife. When my fiancée heard the news, she panicked and bonded with my adopted brother on the spot. After sealing their bond, he lifted his shirt, proudly showing me the wolf mark carved into his back. "Your fiancée's mine now, bro. What are you going to do? You'll turn twenty-five in three days. If no one marries you by then, you'll be randomly matched to one of those older, violent nomad beastwomen." He was wrong. I still had one choice left. I found my parents in the front hall, once again cleaning up the mess he had made. "If he won't marry the serpent princess," I said, "then I will."

My husband, Ryan Costa, is one of the most renowned scientists in the apocalypse. To retrieve a reagent, he goes deep into the high-risk zone with his secretary, Clara Gibson. I, Alice Ashford, lead an elite squad to protect him all the way. But when a zombie horde besieges us, he refuses to retreat. "With the reagent Clara brings back, I can develop a serum that saves all of humanity! Just ten more minutes! Ten minutes, please!" Ryan insists. I feel torn as I see the zombies closing in. I can't gamble with the lives of my squad on a vague, uncertain sliver of hope. In that split second, I knock Ryan out and drag him onto the helicopter. As a result, Clara dies being torn apart by the zombies. When Ryan wakes up, the first thing he does is slap me hard across the face. He rages, "How can you be so selfish? You've doomed all of humanity!" I am sentenced to be burned at the stake. I die in unbearable pain as the crowd curses me relentlessly. When I open my eyes again, I am back at the moment when Ryan stands in front of the helicopter, blocking our retreat. I am just about to speak when I suddenly hear his inner voice, "Clara should have grabbed her makeup bag by now. Hopefully, she brings something back with her. Otherwise, I'll have a hard time explaining myself to Alice." My mind goes blank, and I stare at him in shock. He smiles at me just like he did in my previous life and asks, "Darling, don't you think we should wait?"

On Valentine's Day, I suggest going to a restaurant to celebrate, but my boyfriend, Michael Nelson, refuses. He says impatiently, "Why should we celebrate some lousy holiday? I don't want to waste good money on it." He turns around and happily chats away on his phone, completely absorbed in the conversation. Then, I hear the system's notification going off in my head. "Congratulations. You have received 2,860 dollars." This means that Michael just transferred 1,430 dollars to his side chick. He doesn't know it yet, but I have a system. It's called the Infidelity Cashback System. Every time he spends money on his other woman, I get double the cashback in my bank account.

My childhood friends switched their university of choice behind my back. Going to the capital, they enrolled in an elite university with an exchange student. To them, I was just a tool who could not survive without them. That impression lasted until the opening ceremony of an Ivy League university. As the representative of the new students, I stood at the center of the hall. Meanwhile, the youngest PhD advisor in the entire country watched me as he smiled. Beyond the world of the novel I lived in, the readers’ comments went wild. [Shouldn’t she be crying back at home? Why is she in an Ivy League university?] However, the next part was even crazier. That man actually asked me to be his girlfriend yesterday. He was Professor Samuel Grant, the one who had rejected my four childhood friends from studying under him. When my childhood friends left me behind to chase after that manipulative witch, they never expected me to cast aside my role as someone running after them. I ended up holding a full-ride scholarship and reached heights they could never touch.

When the heatwave apocalypse hits the Earth, the ozone layer has completely dissipated, forcing mankind to move into the underground city. My husband, Rhett Calloway, and I get to stay on Level Two, seeing as we've funded the construction of the underground city. On day in the third year of the heatwave apocalypse, Rhett brings back a sickly young woman from the slums located on Level Three out of the blue. "Nora, the living conditions on Level Three are very difficult. Anna is in poor health. I can't just sit by and watch her suffer." After that, Rhett carries Anna Archer into our home. I keep my gaze lowered as I remind him, "Don't forget that there's a strict population count on Level Two. The available slots in every family are fixed." "I know that. That's why you need to head down to the slums on Level Three to replace Anna for the time being. Once she recovers from her illness, I'll bring you home." The moment I hear Rhett's response, I remain rooted to the spot for a long time. After walking out the front door, I do my best to suppress the quiver in my tone as I call a number that belongs to Level One. "I've already thought it through. I've decided to join the project to end the apocalypse on Level One."

On the day of our wedding, my fiance Thomas Warsh was killed in a car accident on the way there. His adopted sister rushed toward me, clutching his ashes, accusing me of being a jinx who brought him misfortune. I was drowning in grief when a line of floating comments suddenly appeared before my eyes. [You must remain a widow for three years for your deceased husband. After three years, he will be reincarnated and return to love you again!] [Don’t ever remarry. Otherwise, the male lead will never rest in peace, and you will suffer for the rest of your life!] That was when I learned that my fiancé and I were the hero and heroine of a novel. Only by following the spoilers in the comments and completing the storyline could I reunite with him. I did not remarry. Guided by the comments, I remained a widow for three years, and then another three. However, it was not until I suddenly died from a severe illness that I discovered the truth–the comments had all been written by Thomas. He had faked his death, changed his appearance, married his adopted sister, and fed me endless empty promises so I would continue to slave away for the Warsh family. When I opened my eyes again, I had returned to the day before the wedding.

After Ryan Spencer cheated on me again with his secretary, I completely lost it. When my mind started to spiral, I grabbed the fruit knife off the table. I just wanted it to end. “Why are you hurting yourself again? He doesn’t love you anymore?” I looked up. The sixteen-year-old Ryan was walking toward me, heartbreak written all over his face. His voice was gentle. “Tell me who he is. I’ll make him pay.” I stared into the bright, earnest eyes of the boy standing in front of me. I didn’t say a word. I simply lifted my hand and pointed at his face. Later, Ryan was the one who had me admitted to a psychiatric hospital. When the sedative began to wear off, the teenage boy appeared again, sitting by my bed. He stared at the man outside who looked just like him. The light in his eyes faded little by little. Then he spoke, his voice strained. “I don’t care who he is. I’ll kill him.” The sixteen-year-old Ryan never lied to me. When he said something, he meant it.

I was born destined to be fertile. The kind of woman who brings heirs into the world as if it were destiny. My womb had never failed me. The Schuyler family had practically begged me to marry into their family. The reason was simple. For three generations, the Schuyler family had only produced a single heir each time. Their bloodline was hanging by a thread. The patriarch of the family, Albert Schuyler, went everywhere looking for solutions. Doctors, fortune tellers, shamans, anyone who could give him hope. In the end, every prediction pointed to me. After I married Jack Schuyler, my first pregnancy was twins. The entire Schuyler family exploded with joy. Albert donated to every church and fortune teller alike, kneeling in gratitude. Before the babies were even weaned, the Schuyler family business began to thrive. Everyone said that it was the blessing of having noble heirs. Wedding gifts, properties, and company shares. The Schuyler family spared nothing. They treated me like a queen, terrified that I might suffer even the slightest. Until the day I gave birth to my third child. Jack Schuyler's true love, Bianca Chance, barged into the delivery room, screaming at me, "You shameless tramp! You're nothing but a breeding sow! One baby after the other! Are you trying to trap Jack with your womb? You disgusting woman! Jack had said that everything you give birth to will just be burdens sooner or later!" I pressed a hand on my wound and looked at her. Burden? Fine. I would take these so-called burdens with me. As for the Schuyler family's precious bloodline, they had to figure out how to continue it on their own.

We were stuck on the highway in the middle of the Christmas travel rush. My husband’s childhood friend had not only taken the passenger seat from me, but she had also propped her bare feet up on the center console. “Don’t take it to heart, Yvonne. I’m just a casual person and like to be my true self, unlike you and your fake propriety,” Michelle Gail said. As she spoke, she snatched my phone right out of my hand and read a holiday greeting from a male colleague aloud. “Oh, you have quite a few backup options, don’t you? I bet you cheated on Charles a long time ago.” My husband, Charles Carter, however, only defended her. He said, “She’s just being casual. Don’t be so petty as to hold it against her.” I smiled. They did not know that I had accidentally been bound with a system before. As the system had bound the wrong person, it promised to fulfill one wish for me unconditionally as compensation. Without a moment of hesitation, I swapped the system for the “Forget Common Sense System” and bound it to Michelle. Since she was so “casual,” why would she need a sense of shame? Why would she even need to wear clothes? Since the highway was so congested, she might as well go for a wild run on the road!

After a month-long business trip, I finished my work early and drove home through the night. I was eager to surprise my husband and son. However, I heard suggestive noises drifting from the master bedroom the moment I stepped inside my home. I was fuming. I stormed toward the door and was ready to catch them in the act. However, when I threw the door open, all I saw were two mini pigs on the bed. Their lower bodies were inextricably locked together. I moved closer to inspect this absurdity, but my son stopped me. “Mom, don’t go near them. I brought those pigs back. They’re covered in parasites.” I sighed in relief. I was about to laugh at my own paranoia when a glowing text suddenly flickered across my vision like a livestream comment. [That was close! Lily almost caught them. Luckily, David was smart enough to turn Sarah and himself into mini pigs!] [Toby is such a good boy. Lily won’t suspect a thing with him covering for them.] [Once David gets his hands on Lily’s million-dollar inheritance, he’ll divorce her and marry Sarah! Toby will love his new mom!] That was how I realized the pigs were my husband and his mistress. My own son was fully aware of the truth. Yet he was helping them lie to me. My anger turned into a laugh as I watched the two pigs continue their grotesque display. I pulled out my phone and called the hotel. “I have two mini pigs here. I want them spit-roasted!”

My husband and my best friend had seemingly vanished during my grandfather-in-law's funeral. As I searched for them, I passed Shawn Whitaker's coffin and suddenly saw a live chat window flash into view: [Oh goodie, we're finally dealing with a male lead with a 200 IQ! He dragged Best Girl straight into the coffin before that bitch could find out!] [Aww, he's comforting Best Girl because she's scared of the dark! Aaaaahhhhh!] [That annoying extra is still outside looking for Vincent. She's so dumb, oh my god. I'm right here cheering for Best Boy to cheat with Best Girl because I swear that bitch exists just to get in their way!] Fury surged through me. I moved to flip the coffin lid open, but Jasmine grabbed my arm. "Wait! He can't possibly be in there. I think he went to buy Grandpa coffin nails." [Get yourself a little sister who helps you find happiness like Jazzy, chat.] [And now, in the warm, cramped, humid darkness, two bodies collide and sparks fly. This is metal as hell.] [It's also dangerous as hell. I'm just glad our guy was smart enough to leave a crack for air.] I smirked. Oh, was he? I slammed the lid shut, dragged a nearby lounge chair over, and settled into it. "We've got an hour before the funeral begins, don't we? I think I'll keep Grandpa company." The audience was stunned. [An hour?! They're going to die in there!]

On New Year’s Eve, my fiancee, Delilah Carrington, left me to freeze to death in subzero snow. As my body went numb, she was wrapped in the military coat I had found for her, curled up in Everett Kingsley’s arms while eating the holiday groceries I had paid for. When I opened my eyes again, I was back before everything fell apart. So when she called—cold, demanding, rattling off a shopping list like I owed her—I hung up, blocked her number, and made my move. I sealed off Blackridge Logistics Hub, the largest logistics hub in the country. Stockpiling supplies? Pointless. Because my coworkers and I had more packages than we could ever open: seafood delicacies, premium cigars, top-shelf liquor, and industrial generators. Hundreds of millions of shipments meant for the holidays were now all mine. Inside a warehouse kept at a steady 26°C, I ate wagyu steak and watched the world collapse through surveillance feeds. I witnessed Delilah’s entire family tear each other apart over half a moldy pack of crackers. I thought I could live like this forever. I was wrong. In the apocalypse, the most dangerous thing isn’t what’s waiting outside. It’s the people who refuse to stop playing the hero.

The Ice Apocalypse. We were trapped in an ice cave. My girlfriend, Janice Zeller, came to our rescue. My heart leapt, thinking I was saved! But Janice didn't even glance at me. She went straight to her childhood friend, Chad Stewart. "Chad's not in great health and can't handle the cold. Hang in there, Devin, another rescue team will arrive soon." By the time help arrived for me, I was completely frozen and had lost consciousness. While I was helpless to resist, Janice forcibly stripped my superpower away from me and gave it to Chad.

While inspecting my family's cold-storage operations, my husband, Hayden Gibson, and the poor college student I had sponsored, Olivia Hall, suddenly disappeared. As I passed by a research supply container, lines of floating text suddenly appeared in my vision. [That was close! They almost got caught by the heiress! Good thing Hayden reacted fast and pulled the innocent young woman into the cargo container.] [But this supply container is about to get locked and loaded onto a ship and sent to the Southfrost Reach research station. Are those two trying to turn themselves into ice sculptures?"] I just stood there. Hayden, my husband, who had married into my family, was cheating right under my nose? I was about to pull open the container door when Hayden's personal assistant, Robin, stepped in front of me with a smile. "The seal around the door was just waxed, and it hasn't dried yet. You might get your hands dirty." The bullet comments appeared again. [That scared me to death! This assistant is pretty smart. Once Hayden gets out, the assistant definitely deserves a new car.] [As expected of the Chosen One. He can always escape danger! I can't wait to watch his sweet romance with the sweet, innocent young woman.] I stared at the floating text and laughed coldly. "These are critical supplies for the research team. Seal the container now so that nothing goes wrong. Get the welder and weld the door shut." The assistant froze, and the bullet comments momentarily stopped. [Holy moly! She's so ruthless! The two people inside are completely naked right now!] [Help! If the container door gets welded shut, Hayden and the female lead will spend a month at sea and really freeze into ice sculptures!]

In my previous life, I used the golden blood of the dragon to nurture my beast wife, Priscilla Slither. That was how she became the strongest fighter in the beast world. But the first thing Priscilla did after becoming the young mistress of the Snake clan was enter the Secret Realm and find the Sacred Heart for her first love, Jasper Whiskers. I didn't want Priscilla becoming the public enemy of the entire beast world, so I went so far as to use up all of my cultivated power just to stop her. Jasper had a very weak bloodline. Without the Sacred Heart, he would definitely fail to evolve. But Priscilla didn't blame me for my antics. Instead, she became even more lovey-dovey with me. I thought Priscilla finally saw my efforts and realized how good a husband I had been to her. But as soon as she became the elder of the Snake clan, she had me skinned alive. "Kael Vaxenroth, you're the reason behind Jasper's failure in evolution and eventual death after his lifespan ran out! You should've died a long time ago just to make it up to him!" Just like that, I died in endless agony. When I open my eyes again, I've returned to the day Priscilla insists on stealing the Sacred Heart from the Secret Realm. This time, I want to witness how Priscilla and Jasper seal their own fates with their actions!

I was working as a stunt double for a fight scene when a rising idol actor stabbed me with a real knife and sent me straight to the hospital. My actress girlfriend rushed over in a panic, fussing over me with endless concern. Before I could even feel touched, a floating comment suddenly appeared above her head. [When is Scott finally going to realize that the Best Actress linked him and Francis through a Beauty System?] [The more Scott cares about a certain part of his body, the more perfect that same part becomes on Francis!] The next second, my manager of five years hurried into the room as well. Another barrage of comments floated up. [The manager's no better. She tied them to an Achievement System. The harder Scott works, the more achievements Francis gets!] I stared at the two women in front of me and fell silent. So… my only option was to give up and do nothing?

After waking up in the pages of a novel, I married the loyal second lead—the man who could never win the heroine's love. Blessed with exceptional fertility, I gave him two children in three years, and what began as a marriage of convenience slowly ripened into something like love. However, during the New Year's Eve ball at the palace, strange lines of floating text suddenly appeared before my eyes. [The queen heroine is faking her pregnancy. She's just waiting for the fertile side character to give birth so she can steal the child!] [The second lead is truly devoted. To secure the queen's position, he'd even offer up his own wife to the king's bed.] [Once the side character "dies in childbirth," the baby becomes the heroine's by right. What a perfect scheme.] The silver spoon slipped from my fingers and rang against the floor. So, the deeply devoted second lead was always meant to protect only his unattainable first love. In that case… Why shouldn't I take the crown for myself?

"Honey, the soles of my shoes are lambskin. They can't get wet. Come pick me up." I had just sent Preston Hale that message when a swarm of floating comments suddenly exploded through the rain. [I'm so sick of this drama-queen villainess. The male lead is a billionaire CEO, and she's treating him like a dog.] [Our darling heroine has already joined the company. Once the male lead sees how gentle and sensible she is, he'll dump this woman right away.] [Lol. After the divorce, she won't know how to do anything. She'll have to become some sleazy livestreamer.] Watching the screen fill with malice, I clenched my fingers in anger. Just then, Preston came running over with an umbrella, half of his custom suit soaked through. When he saw my pale knuckles, he froze, then carefully tugged at my sleeve. "I'm sorry, honey. Any faster and I'd have been speeding."

I had just been confirmed as a match and was preparing to donate a kidney to my husband's adoptive sister. That night, she left her iPad in the living room. The screen was still on, showing her chat with the doctor: [Doctor, please don't tell my sister-in-law. If she has a kidney removed, her hidden heart condition will flare up, and she won't live longer than three months.] The next day, I canceled the donation without a second thought. My husband flew into a rage. He called me cold-blooded and forced me to sign a divorce agreement that left me with nothing. The next day, I stood outside the hospital room and heard my sister-in-law laughing smugly. "She's so stupid. I faked one chat screenshot, and she actually believed she was sick. Now her penthouse is mine, and we can finally be together openly." My husband kissed her. "Good girl. Later, I'll find you a good kidney on the black market." Outside the door, I sneered. Of course, I knew the chat log was fake. I had come back from the future, after all. In two weeks, the zombie outbreak would begin. Those two so-called siblings who were actually lovers would not only steal my medicine, they would push me out to feed me to the zombies. This time, with only four days left before zombie hordes overran the city, I wanted to see how long a sick woman without a new kidney and a scumbag without supplies could last in that penthouse.