Cerita Pendek Plot Twists & Novel Independence Face Slapping

At my wedding, a video of my fiancé cheating was exposed. I didn't make a scene; just turned around and walked away, left him to clean up the mess himself. I went back to my room and kissed my younger boyfriend. We were halfway through when we got interrupted. My fiancé stormed in, face red with shame and rage. "Is this really the time? All you can think about is kissing?" I smacked my lips, still savoring the moment. "Weren't you the one who introduced us?"

After I buy a house with my dad's inheritance, my girlfriend, Claire Dickson—who's also an interior designer—handles the renovation. Upon moving in, I realize she gives her three childhood friends, Terry Boyle, Mark Sullivan, and Wayne Tucker, permanent fingerprint access. Meanwhile, I, the actual owner, am given only a temporary passcode. "We grew up together," she says. "They're practically family." Later, my study becomes Terry's livestreaming room, the patio fills with things they like, and the entryway has only four pairs of matching slippers. On my birthday, I work late into the night, only to find that my temporary passcode has expired. Through the window, I watch them celebrating Terry's birthday in my home. Claire refuses to let me in. "Everyone's having a good time. Just stay at a hotel tonight. Don't ruin the mood." I walk away without knocking again. The next day, I put the house on the market. They forget one thing—having permanent access doesn't mean it's their home.

Someone @'d me on the hotel's internal guest service system. "Hey, penthouse guy. You're alone. What do you need a whole infinity pool for? My wife's hosting a livestream event. We'll be needing it starting tomorrow." "Don't worry, we'll give you three grand a month. It's a sweet deal. You should be thrilled." I stared at the screen. This was a joke. I was Don Alessandro Ricci. The ruler of Chicago's entire underworld. I checked into my family's flagship hotel under the radar to keep a low profile—needed some peace to close a critical overseas deal and take a few days off. That pool was the penthouse's exclusive amenity. The crown jewel of this hotel. And now someone thought they could take it for three grand? I shot back two words: "Dream on." I didn't expect the hotel manager and two security guards at my suite door the next day. Someone had filed a complaint about me "misusing hotel public resources." And now, for the sake of "guest harmony," they were demanding my keycard. Fine. You want to bring it on yourself? I'll play.

The day my twin sister was found, my parents decided that, to make up for everything she had missed, I had to sell all the love I had received over the past eighteen years to a memory bank and deposit the coins into an account set up exclusively for her. My mother's hugs were worth 800,000 coins. My brother's protection was worth 900,000. My fated mate's marriage proposal was worth one million... Every memory had a price. If I refused to sell even one, I would be branded selfish and deemed unworthy of remaining in the family. My Alpha father pushed the bill toward me. “Ten million. All this love should have belonged to your sister in the first place.” “She suffered out there for eighteen years, while you enjoyed eighteen years of love in her place.” I thought they just wanted to teach me a lesson. Until I discovered that once a transaction was completed, the memories sold to the bank could never be recovered. After I sold the memory of my mother singing me to sleep, I could no longer recognize her voice. After I sold the memory of my brother helping me through my first wolf-shifting, even seeing him injured stirred nothing in me but a sense of unfamiliarity. And when I sold the memory of my fated mate proposing to me, he finally panicked. Grabbing my hand with red-rimmed eyes, he asked why I couldn't even remember him. I didn't answer. Because I had already forgotten who he was. For the final transaction, I sold the last memory I had left. It was the night I was six, when my parents had shielded me with their own bodies at the risk of their lives and promised they would never abandon me. I looked at the remaining balance on the bill and sold that promise, too. Once the transaction was complete, my parents sent a message in the family group chat. “Lydia, the test is over.” “We were only afraid you'd become spoiled and refuse to accept your sister, so we wanted to see if you were willing to make sacrifices for her.” I stared blankly at the messages. I didn't recognize a single one of them.

The day I broke up with my boyfriend, I was sitting in my husband’s car when I watched him buy a box of bandages for his mistress. Gavin Hart had always said he didn’t believe in love. What he wanted was novelty. The rush of something new. I laughed when I heard that. Funny. I didn’t want love either. I wanted his money. His power. And the life that came with his name. Marriage is never just about two people. I thought my affair was the betrayal that would destroy everything. Later, I realized it was the least important secret in our marriage.

Around the seventh month of my pregnancy, I overheard a conversation between my mate, Zane Andrews, and Ciara Phillips, the she-wolf I had taken in out of compassion after her family was brutally slaughtered by rogues. In a sultry, flirtatious tone, Ciara purred, “Zane, my love, if your wife discovers that the fertilized egg I planted in her womb isn’t truly hers by blood, she’ll be devastated—perhaps to the point of despairing suicide, don’t you think?” Zane snorted, his voice dripping with disdain at the mention of me. “It’ll work for us if she simply dies from heartbreak. Damn it. I can’t shake the worry that she might sever our bond and leave me with nothing. Let’s keep this under wraps until our child inherits all her assets. Only then will we reveal the bombshell, plunging her into darkness.” Ciara giggled, praising Zane for his cunning. My claws itched to lash out, but I held back, knowing the time for confrontation wasn’t yet. My heart sank as their betrayal cut deep. Years ago, I had defied my pack elders’ warnings about Ciara being a potential threat, taking her in and grooming her into our pack's doctor, funding her education out of sheer empathy. Now, I regretted every moment of my kindness. To think that my mate, who had once begged for my protection for his fragile pack, had the audacity to betray me. If not for my support, his pathetic pack would have crumbled long ago, leaving him nursing his wounds in a dark corner, fretting over survival. After a long moment of contemplation, I made my decision. I would feign ignorance to their schemes and play along by giving birth to Ciara’s baby. Two decades passed. Ciara’s child grew up, bearing the name Simon Andrews. Aware of their treachery, I still transferred all my assets to him. Once the paperwork was completed, Ciara boldly approached me in front of the entire pack, a maternity DNA test in hand. With a smug smile, she declared, “Leia Holland, look at this! I am Simon’s biological mother. Leave h

My car broke down on the road, so I took off my jacket, popped the hood, and started checking the problem right there at the curb. A brand new convertible swung in and stopped in front of me, close enough to make a point. My ex-wife Sarah got out on the arm of a man in a tailored suit, one hand clamped over her nose in disgust. "Leo, all these years since the divorce and you're still a bottom-rung mechanic who reeks of motor oil." I wiped the grease off my hands. I could not be bothered to explain that this limited-edition supercar was one I had picked up brand new. When I stayed quiet, Sarah shoved a screenshot of her trading profits in my face. "See that? David got me into a tech stock. One day of gains beats everything you'll make fixing cars in a lifetime!" David Ashford looked down at me, his voice thick with contempt. "Sarah, what's the point of talking investing with a mechanic? He can't even read a price chart. "A mystery fund is buying this stock in batches. I'm already in at four-to-one leverage. I'm about to be set for life." Sarah laughed and threw a few bills onto my open hood. "Here's a tip. Buy yourself a decent coffee and stop cluttering up the view." I looked at the scattered bills, then at the ticker symbol on the screenshot. I knew that one well, and I smiled. That tech company's rally was nothing but a bull trap staged by a fund looking for cover while it unloaded its shares. Anyone still in it would be wiped out. I took out my phone and calmly sent a message to my trader. "We're up thirty percent. Sell it all."

A month before my marking ceremony with Jim Luther, my dad, Frank Jackson, was exiled. Jim personally ordered him exiled to the wasteland without even explaining anything to me. "Kelly says someone leaked our pack's secret files, and we found them on your father's phone. Who else could it be?" My dad had come to attend my marking ceremony, yet because of what Kelly Chase said, Jim exiled him. "If you don't give me a reasonable explanation, he'll stay in the wasteland forever. "I won't abandon you just because of your father's actions. Our marking ceremony will proceed as planned in a month." I was devastated by the thought of my dad suffering in the wasteland. If this was how Jim treated my family and me, I didn't want to be with him anymore.

My mother was the only sweet and naive woman in the Palace. She was not hungry for power, did not scheme against others, and did not command any authority. She lived her life in a messy way as the Queen Consort. It was because my father pampered her so much that she became even more ignorant of the world. Everyone in the Palace showed respect on the surface, yet behind her back, they called her an incompetent fool. When I got married, she clutched my wedding gown while she wept and told me again and again, "My little girl, if anyone ever bullies you, do not hold it in. Come home and tell me." I thought she was being naive because no one would bully me when I was the Princess, yet her advice turned out to be right. Before my husband married me, he already had a mistress who had been his childhood lover, and they already had a 3‑year‑old son. After our wedding, he ignored me, humiliated me, and instructed that my allowance be docked. During the Harvest Gala, he held his mistress' hand as they entered the Palace and let her take my seat. He even asked my father to bestow a title upon her. Everyone in the hall stifled their laughter, and it felt like a knife to my heart. I froze and did not dare shed a tear. Footsteps were suddenly heard, and my mother, who had been treated like an accessory by others all her life, started to walk toward us. The look in her eyes was sharp, and her voice was icy. "A title? Why would an insolent mistress think she is good enough to have one? Drag the mistress and her bastard out to be hanged in public."

One week before our wedding, my fiancé, my father’s own consigliere, sold him out.He set him up for a FBI raid. My father died in a pool of blood, his eyes wide open, and the once-great Moretti family collapsed overnight. In my darkest hour, Dominic, the Don of the New York Luciani family, showed up with a crew of mercenaries. He didn't just take care of the rat; he gave me total protection. He obsessed over me for three years, even tattooing my name over his heart. I fell for it. I believed he loved me. I let my guard down and stayed by his side, serving as the lead perfumer for the coldest man in the city. Until today. Outside the wine cellar, I overheard him talking to his rival. "Old man Moretti died never knowing who had leaked his location," Dominic said. "But imagine if that stupid woman, Elena, found out," the rival mocked. "If she knew the man who killed her father was the same husband kissing her forehead every night... would she lose her mind?" My hand froze on the cellar door. The rival’s laughter came through the cracks: "You’re cold-blooded, Dominic! Elena thinks you’re her savior. She even wants to give you an heir. She’d never dream the raid that destroyed her life was actually your offering to Sienna."

My little sister was murdered by her kidnappers. I watched it all happen and never said a word about who did it. My mother got on her knees and begged me. I didn't flinch. When my father threatened me with his authority as the Don, I walked away from my place as the Family heir. I moved to a small town down south. Eight years later, I was dying of a terminal illness, and my older sister, Beth Turner, had taken over the Family. Under her, the Turners had become the most powerful mafia family on the East Coast. The first thing she did when she found me was have me dragged back to the Family's tribunal. "Selena Turner, you ungrateful snake. Mia called you her sister for all those years, and you still won't name the kidnapper. "Mia's been dead for years. Don't you feel any guilt at all?!" I was on my knees in the great hall. I couldn't speak. "After all these years, I can finally extract your memories. Today, I'm going to see exactly who you've been protecting. I will avenge Mia." She ordered her men to restrain me and hook up the extractor. On the screen above the banquet hall, a face suddenly appeared. The room erupted into chaos, and Beth's face went deathly pale.

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.

The night before my mom, Josie Swift, remarries another man, she suddenly barges into my room. "Colin, I'm getting married tomorrow. I don't need you to be my ring bearer anymore." The makeup artist is carefully applying concealer to my left cheek, so I don't catch what she says at first. Mom frowns, her voice laced with frustration and disdain. "Don't bother. The scar on your face won't just disappear like that. The more you try to cover it, the more hideous it looks! "The guests attending my wedding tomorrow are important business associates of Gavin's. Are you trying to embarrass me on purpose? You know how hard it is for me to marry him with you tagging along. They are already gossiping about me behind my back. It's so humiliating." The makeup artist pauses, then awkwardly steps outside. I stare expressionlessly at my reflection in the mirror, saying nothing. My stepfather, Gavin Dunn, stands outside, his head bowed as he adjusts his son Chris Dunn's bow tie. He shows absolutely no reaction to what Mom has just said. Mom sighs and slips into her usual self-pitying tone. "You've been a good boy ever since you were little. You should know how hard it is for me. I need to look dignified and presentable. Tomorrow, Chris will be my ring bearer, and the three of us will take a family photo on stage. You stay backstage and don't cause trouble for me, okay?"

On our last trip before the wedding, someone drugs me and leaves me in another woman's bed. When my fiancee, Sophia Sullivan, and my brother, Sean Jefferson, rush in to save me, I hear Sophia suddenly ask Sean in Lutenian, "Did you get enough footage?" "Yeah," he replies. "But isn't this bad for Ethan? Everyone's going to think he's a rapist." Sophia's expression hardens. "It's all an act. Nothing actually happened. We're just getting some footage. I just have to make sure I don't abandon him. Once you run this story, you'll win a Pulitzer. That's what matters the most." Lying in Sophia's arms, I feel a chill run through my entire body. Afraid I might've misheard her, I ask, "What are you two talking about?" Sophia wipes the tears from my eyes. "We're talking about what happened to you," she says, her voice as gentle as ever. "Why don't you let Sean report what happened to you? He can clear your name." Thinking I still don't understand Lutenian, she turns to Sean and starts talking about how they can get more attention for the story. She has no idea that I've spent the past year learning Lutenian just to fit in with them. I never expect that the first time I finally understand what they're saying will be the moment I discover that they're betraying me.

The newly hired genius programmer was a proud woman who always thought she could turn the entire industry on its head. When an investor tried to pressure her into drinking, she flipped the table and slapped him across the face. "My worth is in my programming skills, not my ability to network. Asking me to drink with you is an insult." Enraged, Clint Warner immediately withdrew the eighty-million investment agreement. He even swore he would never work with us again. As the Head of Product, I scrambled to apologize. The situation was only salvaged after I drank so much that I ended up hospitalized. … Later, I complained to the boss and demanded that he discipline the new hire. To my shock, he dismissed the matter. "If the employee causes any problem, it's because the supervisor failed in their duty. The promised million-dollar dividend bonus is cancelled. Take this as your warning." Fed up, I wrote down Mary Hansen's name on the Counseling-Out List. She couldn't care less. "I have abilities you’ll never match, unlike a scheming bootlicker like you. If anyone tries to go after me, the project will be halted. Don't come crying to me when everything collapses." I did not argue with her then. However, when the Counseling-Out List was announced, I found my own name on it. The boss claimed it was a mistake to force me to leave. Then he promoted Mary to my position and even granted her the authority of a vice president. "You were only great because of the company's support. Mary's not the same. She's young and truly talented. She’ll lead us to greater heights." With a cold smirk on my face, I made my way to our competitor, taking the crucial piece of our company's technology with me.

I have a congenital heart defect, and the doctors say I won't make it past 18. When I am ten, my parents bring home a blind child, saying she is my twin sister, Everly Wallace. My family spoils me rotten, but they treat Everly like a ghost. Everyone says Everly exists only to give me her heart. I try so hard to be good to this sister who shares my face, desperate to ease my guilt. When I reach 18, I lie on the operating table. Except they don't take my heart. They take my corneas. I die after that, while Everly finally sees the light.

On our fifth anniversary, I booked out the rooftop lounge to propose to James. Everything was set. Roses, champagne, candles. The only thing missing was him. Then my phone buzzed with a text from an unknown number. “Don’t bother waiting. He’s across the street buying a ring for his childhood sweetheart.” I laughed. Thinking it was a sick prank, I just looked out the window. Directly across the street, in the glass window of a luxury jeweler, James was sliding a diamond ring onto another woman’s finger. My phone vibrated again. “I confessed to you three years ago. “Knowing this now... Will you marry me?” ---

On my wedding anniversary, my three-year-old son gave me an alpaca as a gift. I turned right around and shipped it off to the circus, where I found it a strapping alpaca husband. All because I'd been reborn. In my last life, that alpaca was sweet and gentle with everyone—except me. Every single day, it spat on me. Determined not to disappoint my son, I tried everything to win it over, but nothing worked. My mind unraveled. I stopped sleeping. I started hearing things that weren't there, and every night I dreamed of that alpaca chasing me down to spit in my face. My husband called me vicious. My son called me petty. And the two of them only grew closer to that alpaca by the day. Worn down and broken, I swallowed an entire bottle of sleeping pills and ended it. Floating above my own body after death, I watched in shock as it stood back up on its own. My son ran sobbing into "my" arms. "Mom, you're finally not an alpaca anymore!" My husband smiled and pulled them both into an embrace. "Nadia, you've been through so much. If it weren't for needing a healthy body to move your soul into, you'd never have had to suffer inside that alpaca for two years." That was when I finally understood. That alpaca had been Nadia Salem all along—the sickly impostor who'd stolen my identity for over twenty years.

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.

In the first year I was brought home, the phony heiress Viola Baker suggested a trip to Gold Island to build a sisterly connection with me. My fiancé, Jeremy Abbott, had joined us to ensure our safety. However, they ended up amassing significant gambling debts at the island's casinos. In a bid to flee, he abandoned me on the island as a hostage, vanishing without a trace alongside Viola. The casino staff restrained me, poised to unleash their wrath upon me. In my frantic struggle, I glimpsed a phone number labeled "Island Owner" on the leader's phone screen. "Could that be the number of my brother, who had cared for me for more than a decade?"