Hot-Blooded Short Stories & Independence Face Slapping Novels

I'm not naturally academically gifted. No matter how hard I push myself—staying up until three in the morning only to drag myself out of bed at six—I can barely keep my grades somewhere in the middle of the class. For most of my school life, no one pays much attention to me. That changes three months before the college entrance exam. One day, my homeroom teacher, Victoria Bennett, calls class president Ethan Sterling and me into her office without warning. She looks at me sternly, asking, "Did you cheat off Ethan during this month's exam?" I shake my head. "No." Victoria turns to Ethan. "What do you have to say?" Ethan quietly chuckles. "I was focused on my own test, so I didn't really notice what he was doing." He pauses, then adds, "Although… I did get the feeling that someone kept turning around to look at me." I stare at him in disbelief. "Me? Looking at you? I never even looked your way!" Victoria's expression hardens, and her voice rises. "You're still going to argue with me? "You ranked 23rd in the class on the last exam, and now, all of a sudden, you're in the top ten?" Before I can respond, she picks up my exam paper and casually draws a thick line through my score. "Since you cheated, I'm giving you a failing grade on this exam." She looks at me coldly. "And you'll write a 3,000-word self-criticism." My heart sinks. "Otherwise, you can forget about staying in school."

I was a genius with an IQ of 180. Even so, I had always kept a low profile. Standing out just made me a target, so I never did. I was good at math, physics, chemistry, biology, astronomy, programming, quantum entanglement, and computer science. I spoke twenty-seven languages. I had mastered everything. When it came time for the SATs, I controlled my score precisely. I finished exactly ten points above the cutoff for an elite university. By “sheer luck,” I snagged the last spot. My classmates were all top students from every corner of the country. All of them looked down on me. They called me the “waitlist wonder,” the “lucky leftover,” and the “bare minimum.” I just smiled and never took their words to heart. That was until the top student in my class, Victor Holloway, announced, “Some people here don’t deserve to be in this class! “I propose that we cut the weakest link after this exam. “I dare whoever comes last to drop out voluntarily.” I was provoked by his words. Was he talking about me? Fine. It was time for me to stop holding back.

It's my seventh anniversary with Chase McGregor. I hide in his car's trunk while holding a pregnancy report. In my other hand, I hold a limited-edition watch that I've prepared for him. I want to surprise him and tell him we're about to have a child. To my surprise, I hear something that devastates me. "Chase, you're not really going to marry Daphne, are you? Lucille Gervais wants to marry you. As long as you do that, the North Sea's shipping routes, cargo operations, and drug trade will come under your control." "Help me set up a date with her. I'll break up with Daphne." My breathing hitches. I want to hear Chase object to this or show even the slightest bit of hesitation, but none of it comes. The pregnancy report slips from my fingers. I once thought he would be the father of my children; I thought we would have a happy family together. Now, my dream has been shattered.

To honor the last wish of my late husband, Daniel Bennett, I spent twenty thousand dollars on the most lavish Christmas funeral Evergreen Memorial Funeral Home offered. As I watched Daniel's urn being lowered into the ground, I thought he had finally found peace. Then, the following March, local police called to tell me Daniel's body had not been cremated until January. I marched into Evergreen Memorial's reception office with the police record and slapped it on the table. Evergreen Memorial's manager, Martin Hayes, glanced at the record, shut the door at once, pulled a stack of cash from a drawer, and pushed it toward me. "Ma'am, the cremation schedule was fully booked over Christmas. We held the funeral first and used temporary fill for the burial. It's an industry workaround for scheduling delays. Take the money, we'll finish the paperwork, and we can all pretend this never happened." "If you insist on making a scene, we'll sue you for defamation, and you won't even get this compensation." I studied the smug look on his face, so certain he had me cornered, then pulled out my phone and tapped the button to save the recording.

The whole school thought I was using my family's money to treat Lucas Reid, the broke campus heartthrob, like a dog. When I went shopping, he trailed behind me carrying dozens of bags. Whenever I complained about the heat, he'd stand motionless in the sun for two hours holding an umbrella over me, until one shoulder burned and peeled. Countless girls at school felt sorry for him. Then Celine Lawson, the department's new it girl, turned everyone against me. Suddenly, the spoiled rich girl was public enemy number one. While Lucas was at the lab, Celine and her crew cornered me in a classroom and knocked the latte out of my hand. Coffee splashed all over my shoes. She lifted her chin and looked down her nose at me. "Oops. My hand slipped. "I figured you only drank human blood anyway." Then she slapped a photo on the desk. Lucas's arm was streaked with blood. The students crowding around us pointed and whispered. Celine scoffed. "Get a good look? "Because of you, he comes to class covered in injuries every single day. "You've got a little money, so you think you can walk all over people? You really think nobody can stop you?" She shoved a withdrawal form in front of me. It read, "I voluntarily withdraw from school and publicly apologize for bullying Lucas Reid." "Sign it. Now." She held up her phone and played a video. "Or I'll post this video of you making him stand in a downpour as punishment, and you'll be ruined." I looked at the familiar figure in the photo. Are these people out of their minds? My dad pays ten million euros a year for a top bodyguard from the Middle East. Since when is it a crime to make him do his job?