Melodramatic Short Stories & Independence Face Slapping Novels

After my parents dead, I was taken in by one of his closest friends—the Draycotts. Kaelen Draycott, their only son, treated me like I was family. And I, stupidly, fell for him. When I confessed, he called me sick. Evil. Disgusting. From that day on, he made my life hell. He brought women home, loud enough for me to hear everything. Just to remind me where I stood. When it came down to it, he saved his fiancée. Left me to be shot, mocked, and forgotten. I knew what he was capable of. So this time, I made the choice. I’m leaving. And knowing how much he hates me— Let my farewell be the best wedding gift he’ll ever get.

A week before summer break, my boyfriend’s childhood sweetheart threw a fit, insisting on going to Tanond to watch a strip show. She even convinced our entire class to go with them. I kept warning them that it was not safe, that it could be some kind of new scam, and begged them not to go. When they refused to listen, I secretly reported it to the police. On the day of their departure, the police stopped them right at customs. A few days later, a male stripper suddenly went viral overnight. When she found out about it, she got so furious her eyes turned red. “It’s all Zoey’s fault! If it weren’t for her, we could’ve seen an international superstar's strip show!” On the first day we went back to school, they drugged me and made ten men teach me how to dance. “Didn’t you stop us from watching a strip show? Then you can perform one for us yourself.” The next day, my photos of strip show were all over social media. After that, I jumped off a building out of despair. When I opened my eyes again, it was once again the day his little sweetheart demanded that trip to Tanond.

I'd been gone three months, growing our turf. Came home to find some chick in my robe, on my couch, sipping my wine. I called security. Lesson time. Then Damon—my husband, who only mattered because he married me—jumped in front of her. "It was a drunken mistake. She's just some poor girl. You're not seriously gonna flip over this, right?" I slapped him. "A trophy like you thinks he gets a say now?" Instead of shutting up, he asked for a divorce. For her. Cool. I said yes. He thought ditching me meant freedom. What he didn't get? Without me, he was nobody.

A week before my bonding ceremony, my younger sister traveled from a distant pack to be my maid of honor. While she was trying on her dress, the phone she had left outside suddenly rang. “Florence, can you answer that for me? I can’t get it right now.” I picked it up, and a male werewolf’s voice came through the line. “Baby, I bought you a gorgeous lingerie set. Tonight is going to be amazing.” I didn’t make a sound. A cold chill sliced straight through me. That voice belonged to none other than my mate-to-be, Dylan Conner.

My fiancé, Dominic, heir to the Carvalho crime family, vanished for four days. I thought a rival family had put a bullet in his head. Then I saw his ex’s Instagram story. A shot of them in bed. The caption: He still knows every inch of me. His face was hidden, but his hand wasn't. And on it, the ring I gave him, resting on her skin. That night, Dominic came home. He brought me white roses, my favorite. I asked him why. Why he'd lie. Why he'd sleep with her. He brushed it off. Just a "misunderstanding." I was done. I threw the ring in his face. Burned the wedding dress. Told him we were over. He thought I was just throwing a fit. He didn't get it. Not until he realized I was walking away for good. Then he panicked. Begged me to come back.

I fell in love with my brother's combat training instructor, the Alpha of the Stormfang Pack. He was very kind to me. I pursued him for eight years, thinking that he wanted me to be his mate. But he betrayed my sincerity, ignored my efforts, and even used my love to pursue his childhood sweetheart. Realizing the truth, I chose to leave. But he regretted it and did everything possible to win me back, but everything was too late by then.

The seven Jennings sisters were all born unusually fertile, while I was born extremely virile. My grandmother wanted me to marry a woman with high fertility so we could have lots of kids and thrive as a family. In my previous life, I followed her wishes and chose Kara Jennings. But she joined forces with her six sisters to steal my family estate, locked me in a basement, and tortured me until I died. Now that I had come back to life on the day I had a banquet to announce my bride-to-be, I chose Michelle Cooper, the powerful CEO rumored to be sickly and infertile...

I marry Mason Longbright, my savior, at 24. For five years, Mason's erectile dysfunction and bipolar disorder keep us from ever sleeping together. He can't satisfy me when I want him, so he uses toys on me instead. But during his manic episodes, his touch turns into torment, leaving me bruised and broken. On my birthday night, I catch Mason in bed with another woman. Skin against skin, Mason drives into Amy Becker with a rough, ravenous urgency, his desire consuming her like a starving beast. Our friends and family are shocked, but no one is more devastated than I am. And when Mason keeps choosing Amy over me at home, I finally decide to let him go. I always thought his condition kept him from loving me, but it turns out he simply can't get it up with me at all. I book a plane ticket and instruct my lawyer to deliver the divorce papers. I am determined to leave him. To my surprise, Mason comes looking for me and falls to his knees, begging for forgiveness. But this time, I choose to treat myself better.

Five years after we broke up, my ex-fiancé Bruce, yes the mafia one, suddenly called me out of the blue to announce our wedding date. I was speechless. Shocked, I blurted out, "Wait… didn't we break up five years ago?" He replied with his usual arrogance, "Break up? I never agreed to that. You left in a fit of anger. "And let me guess. You came back to the country only because you heard I was getting married. Out of jealousy, hoping to reclaim our engagement?" He even had the nerve to tell me to be magnanimous and accept Bella, the so-called 'perfect girl' who had spent the last five years by his side. I let out an icy laugh and hung up immediately. I had long been married to the most powerful Don of the strongest mafia family and had two adorable sons to show for it. Honestly, I had no idea what Bruce was thinking. Now, who even cares about him?

I went to exactly one party in my new, wealthy neighborhood. Then my neighbor Brenda sued me. In court, she held her bruised and battered daughter, Tiffany. She accused my son of rape. Mid-hearing, Tiffany tugged her collar down. Red marks circled her neck. "He tried to rip my pants off," she sobbed. "He tried to force himself on me. I fought back. So he beat me. He ruined my face!" Outside the courthouse, protesters held up signs, calling my son a piece of trash, a spoiled rich kid. Online, a photoshopped memorial of me went viral. The caption read: The unfit mother should die with her son. My company’s stock plummeted. But I just sat there. Stone-faced. I asked for my son, Cooper, to be brought in. The courtroom doors opened. Cooper walked in. Everyone froze.

I’m about to enter a blood bond with another vampire lord. But my partner of a century, Kaelan, has no idea. He’s too busy getting cozy with his new human assistant, Sylvia. They spend entire nights in his office, under the guise of “researching synthetic blood.” He even turned our centennial anniversary into her birthday party. In front of everyone, Kaelan presented her with a Black Forest cake decorated with Silver Bells. They laughed, smearing frosting on each other. They forgot the flowers are a deadly poison to me. My power shattered. Agony ripped through me as shadows lashed out, uncontrollable. My family’s guards had to drag my convulsing body away. And while I recovered alone in the cold, dark vault, Kaelan was still at the party, bathing in the cheers for him and Sylvia. The blood in my veins turned to ice. A century of love and hope burned to ash. In that moment, I agreed to my family's arrangement. Without hesitation. A union with the lord of the Obsidian Throne—a vampire they say is power incarnate.

Alpha Kieran personally invited me to serve as Beta of Silvercrest Pack. But on my second day in the territory, my neighbor Gloria dragged her disheveled daughter Daisy to the center of the training grounds and dropped to her knees, accusing my son Koda of sexually assaulting her barely-eighteen-year-old daughter. Daisy stripped off her clothes in front of everyone, revealing horrifying bruises and claw marks. Gloria had even paid top dollar for a witch to perform a memory trace spell. Daisy sobbed until she nearly passed out. "Koda said if I didn't do as I was told, he'd bite me to death..." The entire pack was in an uproar. Everyone was screaming for blood. "Alpha, why should someone like her be our Beta?" "Vera can't even control her own son — how is she supposed to lead this pack?" They even demanded that Alpha have Koda seized and executed on the spot. I wasn't the least bit worried. Because when they finally brought Koda to the training grounds and everyone got a good look at him — Every single person there, including Gloria's family, froze. I nearly burst out laughing. …

The first time Rafael betrayed me, he threw the woman from his club at my feet. His eyes were bloodshot as he told me to take my pick. My love for him was a sickness, so I forgave the transgression. For the second betrayal, I had the dancer sent out of New York, warning her never to set foot on the East Coast again. On the night of our engagement party, sealing the union of our two families, Rafael pinned me against the walnut desk in the study. His eyes burned with rage as he demanded: "Where is Nina? She's carrying a Mancini heir." "It was a mistake. You can take your anger out on me. Nina is naive; she doesn't deserve this. I'm begging you, just let the child be born safely. I swear I'll never see her again." "You're afraid of childbirth. This gives you an heir without the risk." "Listen, Alessia. You are the future Donna of the Mancini family. When that child is born, it will know only you as its mother. I swear on my life." He forced me backward until shards from the vase I'd knocked over cut into my skin, staining my silk dress with blood. I looked at him and smiled, then gave him the address of a safe house in Brooklyn. He slammed the heavy oak door behind him. Shaking, I pulled out my encrypted phone. "You were right about him. Is your offer still on the table?"

My wife just had a baby with her lover, and she brought both father and daughter straight into our home. As her husband, I was expected to wait on her during her confinement. However, I didn’t throw a tantrum this time. Instead, I tied on an apron, cooked for her, and even helped that man carry his luggage into the master bedroom. From that day on, I became the biggest joke in our social circle. I was a grown man turned servant, catering to a freeloading pretty boy and changing diapers for my own illegitimate daughter. Kim loved flaunting my obedience to her friends. “Dylan loves me so much, he’ll do anything as long as I don’t divorce him.” Her lover mocked me at every turn, treating me like a servant and making me wash the sheets he and my wife used. Everyone assumed I was hopelessly in love with Kim, having endured eighteen years of humiliation for a chance at her heart. However, I knew the truth. I was waiting for the day the child turned eighteen. Then, thirty percent of Kim’s Foster Group stock would finally be mine.

I stumbled across an encrypted folder on my husband's phone, filled with photos of a little girl I'd never seen before. From newborn to first steps, sorted by month—two full years' worth. But the child in those photos wasn't our daughter. When I confronted him, he said she was a girl named Rosie from the children's home I sponsored. The director sent growth updates, and he'd been saving them for me. I never imagined that my warm, thoughtful husband would use my charity to spin a lie. Because every single photo was geotagged to the apartment complex next to his office. And the children's home was on the other side of the city. I didn't call him out right then. Because I wanted to know whose child she really was.

My blood-mate, Lord Lucien, found out. I gave the “Moonlight Blood” treaty, the one I bled to secure with the werewolf packs, to his new pet, Celeste. He thought it was the result of his decade of cold neglect. A sign I had finally shattered. So, he offered to take me to the centennial Crimson Feast in Venice. But when Celeste heard, she flew into a jealous rage and threatened to leave his clan. Lucien, who catered to her every whim, panicked. He spent three days and nights soothing her ego, even giving her his prized Elder Blood. Then he left me behind again, using a border skirmish with our rivals as an excuse. He gave her my invitation—the only one. Later, he explained himself, lounging on his sarcophagus with a careless air. "Love is a luxury we can't always afford, Octavia. The clan's survival is everything. I am their Lord. I have responsibilities." "You are my blood-mate, Octavia," he said. "You'll support me. Won't you?" A thrall presented a magic mirror. In it, Celeste pressed her pale cheek against Lucien’s shoulder. They embraced under the moonlight, their lips meeting as they exchanged blood. I said nothing. I just nodded. Lucien thought I had finally learned my place. A satisfied smirk curled his lips as he promised to buy my silence with a trinket from his private collection when he returned. But he didn't know. I had already cut ties with the clan. And he had already signed the dissolution papers with his own blood. There was no "us" anymore.

I gave up ten years of my life and went to prison to protect my sister, Jasmine. In return, she took my baby, claiming my one-night stand with the ruthless mafia king, Dominic Valentino, as her own. Now, she sits on a stolen throne, playing the perfect mafia wife. And I become my son's night nanny. Dominic is lethal, cold, and suspicious of everyone. He married Jasmine out of duty, yet he refuses to touch her. But the moment I step into his house, his eyes lock onto me. He doesn't know I'm the woman who saved his life in a bloody alley a year ago. He doesn't know the baby crying in the nursery is mine. All he knows is that the air burns whenever we are in the same room. My sister thinks I'm just a broken ex-con she can easily crush. She forgot one thing. I didn't just survive prison. I learned how to run an empire in the dark. And I am taking my son, my man, and my throne back.

Every time the housekeeper came to cook, she brought her daughter along. I felt sorry for them — single mother, no support — so I never said a word. Until one afternoon, I pulled out the chair at the head of the table and found a note taped to the back. It read: "Freeloaders aren't allowed to eat here." I tore the note off and turned to the housekeeper. "What is this supposed to mean?" The girl shot me a look of pure contempt and let out a cold laugh. "You're just a maid. You sponge off other people's homes day after day — how are you not ashamed? If you can't afford food, go beg on the street. People like you, mooching off everyone, make me sick." I stared at her, completely thrown. The housekeeper rushed over and lowered her voice. "Ms. Wolfe, my daughter doesn't know I'm the maid here. She saw how hard I work and felt sorry for me — that's why she put up the note." "And she has serious germophobia. She can't stand eating with strangers. Wait outside until she's done eating. Don't come back in." Before I could answer, she shoved me out the front door. The door slammed shut behind me with a final bang. I stood there on the steps and calmly dialed the police. "Hello. There's been a break-in at my home. Someone's locked me out. I need an officer here now."

My father was one of the first dons to rise out of the Naples mob. My mother was an iron-fisted businesswoman with a reputation that made grown men flinch. When I was ten, somebody had the nerve to hijack one of my father's freight ships. He had the man's arms and legs broken with a crowbar, then stuffed a handful of gold rings down his throat — told him to count his money while he crawled. When I was fifteen, some scheming woman tried to get her claws into my father. My mother hired the filthiest pimps off the docks, shipped her down to a back-alley bar in Marseille, and told her to make her own way. And me — I grew up running the streets of Naples like I owned them. The sons of every other family knew to call me Miss Ferrante and keep their hands to themselves. Then I met him. A rough, quiet man fresh out of the army. For him I put down the knives, traded the silk for plain cotton, and followed him back to that little nothing of a coastal town, Porto Scuro. Today my mother-in-law and my husband went down to the dock warehouses to settle a dispute. They held her face down in a barrel of rotting fish guts. They kicked in three of his ribs. I stared at the salt fish I'd been slicing on the kitchen board, let out a cold laugh, and brought the knife down so hard the oak split in half. Then I dialed my father's private line.

I was on vacation with my mother at our country vineyard when a message arrived from Ava, my husband's personal secretary. He was the new Don of the Falcone family. The photo showed a woman, bruised and naked, curled up on the floor of a cold cellar. It was followed by a voice message, her tone arrogant: "Helen, is this what you peasants do? Claw your way out of the mud just to leech off the Don?" "Don Lorenzo just acquired this estate, and you have the nerve to let your blind, ill-mannered mother wander in here to freeload? As the Don's personal secretary, it's my job to uphold the Falcone family's dignity." "This is the price for trespassing on the Don's estate!" I froze, my eyes lifting to the other side of the long table where my mother was sipping her red wine, perfectly safe. I zoomed in on the photo. The moment I saw the details, my heart seized. On a pale hand was a familiar ring. It was the heirloom the Falcone Madre never took off. I immediately dialed Ava's number. "Ava, are you insane? That's Lorenzo's mother!" A careless, almost flirtatious laugh came from the other end of the line. "The Don may consider you his property, but he never agreed to take in your dirt-poor family."