Plot Twists Short Stories & Male POV Face Slapping Novels

The captain of our college cheer squad was drowning. I fought to pull her ashore and performed mouth-to-mouth in front of the entire student body and faculty. But three days later, she went live, sobbing, and accused me. "Owen Ellis pushed me into the water... He's wanted to force himself on me for ages! "He threatened me, too. He said if I didn't sleep with him, he'd post photos of him kissing me on a porn site and ruin me!" Overnight, I went from a lifesaving hero to a would-be rapist reviled across the internet. The university expelled me. My parents were doxxed by online mobs, lost their jobs, and both sank into depression. In my darkest moment, I stood at the same lake where I'd saved her and jumped. As the water closed over my head, a notification lit up my phone. The cheer captain was smiling on her livestream as hundreds of thousands of fans flooded the chat. The stream title read: "A Strong Girl Rises from the Ashes." When I opened my eyes again, I was back at the moment she started drowning. She was thrashing in the water, those wet eyes locked on mine, and she cried out. "Owen... save me..."

The night before our engagement, my best man Reese suggested we play Never Have I Ever — our version, where you name something you have that you think no one else does, and anyone who doesn't have it puts a finger down. "Sitting in this room is someone I can't have," he said. Everyone else's fingers went down, except Reese's and my fiancée Molly's. The others erupted in whistles and teasing, not caring that I was right there. "I have the most loyal fiancé," Molly said. "Boring and dull." Everyone glanced at me, and the private room fell into an awkward silence. I was suddenly exhausted. Molly and I had been together for two years. Tomorrow was our engagement party, yet she'd just publicly admitted there was someone she wanted but couldn't have. And in her eyes, the only redeeming quality her fiancé had was loyalty. When my turn came, I said calmly, "I have a grand wedding of the century." I turned to Molly beside me. "But as of now, it's canceled."

To keep my grandmother's failing organs stable, I simmered a medicinal broth for her every day and strictly controlled her diet. Then the Whitmore family's long-lost real son was brought home. "You're feeding my grandmother something that looks like slop? Julian Whitmore, what kind of heart does a fake son like you have?" The butler wiped sweat from his forehead. "Sir, this is Mr. Whitmore's specially prepared medicinal broth. The old madam's been drinking it for years, and her health has only--" "Shut up!" Tyler Whitmore threw an all-foreign-language menu in my face. "I've consulted top nutritionists overseas. What Grandma needs now is protein!" "I've had the finest bluefin tuna flown in. From now on, I'll handle Grandma's diet myself." My grandma, Irene Whitmore, stayed silent. She merely glanced at me, which counted as approval. I forced out a smile and turned to leave. "Fine. Then take good care of her." They had no idea Grandma had been poisoned with a rare tropical toxin. That bowl of medicine was a suppressant I had prepared specifically for her. Once she stopped taking it and touched seafood or other triggering foods, the poison would backlash instantly.

My girlfriend, Selena Jenkins, and I are committed to a strict 50-50 relationship. We are three years into our relationship, and we split everything down to a single bottle of water. Then, out of nowhere, I get a call from a kidnapper. "We have your girlfriend. Have 150 thousand dollars ready, or she dies!" I calmly launch our app, SplitMate. According to the algorithm, this unexpected incident falls under "shared risk", meaning she is responsible for 50% of the cost. However, after factoring in the personal insurance policy I took out on her behalf, she only needs to pay 35,550 dollars. I send the calculation results to the kidnapper. "This is her share. Please contact her family for the payment. I'm only responsible for my own portion." The line goes silent. A few minutes later, I receive a livestream link. The livestream shows Selena tied to a chair, smiling at her phone. The live chat in front of her is blowing up. "Holy shit! This guy's a monster. This is the craziest livestream I've seen all year!" Later on, she follows the 50-50 rule to a T, but I'm no longer on board with it.

I've invested in my cousin, Jack Glenwood's farm. His net profit is more than four million dollars per year. On the day I'm supposed to receive my bonus, Jack tears the contract stating that I get a 55% profit share right in front of my family. After that, he transfers 40 thousand dollars to me. He even has the audacity to pat me on the shoulder with a smile on his face. "Noah, you never did anything throughout the year. Since I'm giving you 40 thousand dollars, that means I'm treating you well, right?" I just smile as I look at Jack's greedy and despicable expression. Then, I accept the 40 thousand dollars without saying anything. The next day, I cut off the secret formula to the farm's feed and travel overseas to carry out a new round of investments. This time, I want to see how Jack will fare without my secret formula.

The company booked a lodge at Osprey Lake for the Labor Day weekend retreat. All 35 other people in the company were invited, and I was not one of them. My team lead even posted a group photo from their kayaking trip in the chat, captioned with "One less person and the boat rides lighter." I did not reply. I turned off my phone, bought some tamales and a beer, went back to my apartment, and slept for 15 hours. When I woke up, I had 203 missed calls. The latest voicemail was my team lead, practically in tears. "Please, man, I'm sorry! Just pick up the phone!" I grabbed another slice and took a bite. I took one weekend off. How was the company already falling apart?

As soon as I've moved into my new home, Rebecca Zangler, the white-collar office worker who lives across from my apartment calls the cops on me. Her reasoning is that I've been peeping on her whenever she's taking a shower because my unrequited love toward her has transformed into brimming hatred and resentment. When the police show up, Rebecca starts crying her heart out. Then, she begins berating me. "You pervert! Every night, you're the one peeping at me with your binoculars! You even uploaded my photos to the Internet! "I saw everything, you know! Those eyes of yours are nothing but lecherous! You really are disgusting!" My neighbors begin pointing at me while mumbling about me. Someone even comes over and starts roughing me up and calling me a scumbag. "Perverts like him should be chemically castrated!" "He looks decent at first glance, but you'll never know that he's actually a peeping Tom!" When faced against everyone's backlash, I take off my sunglasses quietly, revealing my cloudy eyes. "Officer, may I ask how can a blind man like me peep on others in the first place?"

During the long holiday, to accommodate the travel plans of my hospital director wife, I—someone who hadn't taken a single day off all year—begged and groveled, burning through every last bit of goodwill in my department just to scrape together seven days of comp time so I could go with her. But I waited at the airport from morning until night. After a hundred ignored calls, she finally rang me back, her voice totally casual. "The signal's a nightmare out at the scenic area. I forgot to mention—Julian booked the tickets a day early by accident, so we're already at Tamoe Mount! Since you missed your flight anyway, just go back to the hospital and cover some shifts. It's the hospital's busiest time. Didn't you say everyone in your department was upset about you taking time off? Go make it up to them." On the other end of the line, the wind was howling. Her young colleague, laughing brightly, jumped in. "Hey, Rita, I had no problem switching my shifts. I guess he just slacks off too much—no wonder nobody likes him." Not only did she not stand up for me, she actually agreed. "You hear that, Kevin? Learn to play nicer with your coworkers. Stop obsessing over fun all the time. Then later, it'll be easier for me to push through your raise and promotion." I didn't argue or make a scene. I just said "Got it," hung up, and walked straight to the hospital run by her biggest competitor. "Are you still looking for a vice director? I work hard, I don't need weekends off, and as long as I get normal comp time, I'm good."

The morning of my wedding, my own sister locked me in a bathroom stall. The boy I had sponsored out of poverty couldn't bear to see my fiancée standing alone at the altar, so he stepped up and married Lillian Gates in my place. My sister was so moved that she claimed him on the spot as a brother and let him complete the marriage alliance with the Gates family in my name. My fiancée said, "Silas, you healed my legs. I love you. I respect you. But Liam and I have already registered our marriage. From here on, one of you is my husband, and the other is my boyfriend. Things between us can stay the same… alright?" I slapped her across the face. What she did not know was that her legs were never fully healed. In seven days, without my brace, she would be unable to walk again. What she also did not know was that my sister–so certain of her schemes–had never even seen our parents' will. So what made her think the company had been left to her?

Five minutes before the graduate admission exam began, the campus heartthrob quietly slipped a crumpled piece of paper into my pencil case. Lines of floating text drifted across my vision. [The paper is filled with answers. The school heartthrob has reported it, and the proctor will be here any second!] [As long as they find it, his admission slot will be canceled immediately!] [Serves this bookworm right for standing in our heartthrob’s way. The proctor is his aunt. He’s doomed today!] The next second, the proctor stormed into the classroom and headed straight for my seat. “Someone has reported you for cheating,” she said sharply. “Empty your pencil case. We’re checking it.” Without a word, I turned the case upside down. A few pens fell onto the desk, but there was no paper. The campus heartthrob’s eyes widened in disbelief. “How is that possible? I–” Before he could finish, a slip of paper covered in answers slid out of his own pocket and dropped onto the floor. What they didn’t know was that I was born with a weird power called “Misfortune Rebound.” Anyone who tried to harm me would end up suffering the consequences themselves.

My lawyer wife’s assistant got into trouble again. This time, he had been driving at nearly sixty miles an hour in a residential neighborhood and crashed into my seventy-year-old mother, sending her flying. My mother had gotten paralyzed from the accident after suffering fractures in dozens of places. She would be bedbound for the rest of her life. My wife represented her assistant in court again. She claimed that my mother had intentionally gotten in the path of her assistant’s vehicle to get compensation money, and that was how the crash happened. She pushed all the responsibility back on my mother. In the end, her assistant was pronounced innocent and released, while I had to pay him for damages. “Tyson, he’s just a twenty-five-year-old kid. He knows nothing. If he got sent to jail, his life would be ruined. Don’t pursue this with him.” After the lawsuit, the assistant rushed to make an online post. [My lawyer’s so gorgeous. She’s an angel of justice!] Florence liked the post right in front of me. Meanwhile, I stayed so calm it was scary. “Let’s get a divorce, Florence.”

When my cousin, Rita Pike, brings her boyfriend, Benny Booker, home to meet her parents, I get labelled as a freeloader for some reason. As soon as Benny steps through the front door, he shoots me a disdainful glance. "You're the cousin who refuses to move out of my girlfriend's villa, right?" I just stare at him in confusion. Yes, I do live in this villa. But my parents have left this property to me as a part of my assets. My name is the one printed on the property deed. Heck, I'm the one who told my butler to give Rita a room to stay here! Why is it that I'm painted as the poor relative who refuses to move out now that she's dating another man?

Five years ago, at that engagement party, I punched out a front tooth belonging to Jace, the personal bodyguard of my fiancée Elle. To get revenge for her bodyguard lover, Elle planted fake evidence claiming I sold family secrets to a rival. She framed me and personally threw me into the family's underground dungeon. The day I made it out of those cells alive, I ran right into Elle and Jace's wedding. Everyone thought I would shoot the place up like a mad dog. But I didn't. I just took an old suitcase, boarded a flight across the Atlantic, and vanished from this land. Three years after my release, I accompanied my wife Quinn back to my hometown, just in time for my birthday. We agreed to celebrate at the most exclusive club in the city, and she said she had a surprise for me. I arrived early. Who knew that the moment I pushed open the doors of that high-end club, I would run right into Jace, surrounded by a bunch of goons. "Oh? Look who we have here." "Isn't this our once-glorious big shot?" "Well, well. I haven't seen you in a few years. How did Mr. Cole end up looking so pathetic? You can't even afford a decent suit anymore?"

I rode overnight in the cheapest coach seat I could get to negotiate a deal for the company. Sticking strictly to the company's meal allowance, I treated the client, Caelum Worthington, to a 10-dollar takeout meal. I never expected us to hit it off so well that he started calling me "Bro" on the spot. He took me straight to the most exclusive club in the city and dropped 50,000 dollars on the full VIP treatment. When I returned to the office, I only submitted a few takeout-meal receipts for reimbursement. Then, out of nowhere, my boss, Oscar Richmond, threw the 50,000-dollar bill from the club right in my face. "You went to negotiate with a client, and you let him pay to entertain you? You're openly taking kickbacks, aren't you?" he demanded. Before I could even pull out the 200,000,000-dollar contract I'd just signed, the reprimand notice had already gone out to the entire company. They withheld my entire salary and bonus, then demanded that I repay the 50,000 dollars myself. Otherwise, they said I'd rot in prison for the rest of my life. "That 50,000 dollars was spent because the client was showing the company respect. That makes it a company asset! You embezzled it, so you have to pay back every last cent! Pay up or go to prison. Take your pick." I looked at the greedy, twisted expression on my boss' face and smiled. Right in front of him, I dialed Caelum's number. "Hey, Cael. You got a minute?" "Tonight, the usual spot. Full VIP treatment. It's on me," Caelum replied.

The entire company was racing to get the year off to a strong start on the first day after our holiday break. I was the only one openly staring out the window, doing nothing. No one bothered me because I helped the boss make an extra 200 million dollars last year. So, she'd personally given me one special rule. "You can do whatever you want." Unfortunately, the new operations director didn't know that. So, she smashed my computer and ordered me to pay a 20,000-dollar fine in front of the entire office to set an example for everyone else. I didn't say anything. Instead, I made a phone call, packed up my things, and left the company. Early the next morning, the boss personally drove to my house herself. She'd come to take me back to work because the number I'd called the day before was the private cell phone number of a rival company's CEO.

On my first day at work, I received a carpool notice. [I'm three weeks pregnant and the company is quite far from my home.] [After verification, your car exceeds 400,000 dollars and has been on the road for less than a year. It meets my vehicle requirements.] [From now on, you will be responsible for sending me to and from work every day. You mustn't be late.] Looking at the message, I laughed out of sheer anger. I usually had a dedicated driver for my outings. After starting work, I had my family buy this inconspicuous car to keep things low-key. I replied directly: [No thanks!] Unexpectedly, the next day, Xenia Salter exploited her authority over the attendance records and marked me as arriving late and leaving early and deducted my salary. Since she was so shameless, she should not blame me for what was to come.

In my previous life, I took the blame for the false son of the Stafford family and was sentenced to five years in prison. On the day I left jail, my family threw a grand birthday party for Charles. My only birthday present was the removal of my clothes and being frozen to death in the snow. When I opened my eyes, I was once again five years old. My parents stood before me, ready to take me home from the orphanage. My older sister, Juliet Stafford, rushed out from nowhere and blocked the door. She pointed at me—a boy dressed in rags—and shouted, "Dad, Mom! Leave him here, or he'll ruin everything!" Her emotional reaction was different from the one I saw in my previous life. That was when I realized she had been reborn too. After our parents left in disappointment, Juliet walked up to me and forced a piece of candy into my palm. Then she threatened, "Remember this. Chuck is the only son of the Stafford family. A curse like you is not welcome in our home."

After my girlfriend, Rebecca Quinn, plotted to have me killed, I finally realized just how deeply she hated me. In my previous life, she dreamed of becoming a star. I poured money into her career and pulled every string I could, personally turning her into a rising A-list actress. Yet Rebecca never showed a shred of gratitude. Instead, she conspired with her lover to murder me and told me, "All that money you spent to make me famous was just your way of raising your own cash cow." When I opened my eyes again, I found myself back at the moment a director arrived at my school to cast the female lead.

I understood babies. The baby in Room 403 cried out, "My butt itches! It is not a stomachache!" A newborn in the ER screamed, "Something is stuck under my belly button!" A preemie babbled softly, "I want my mommy..." None of that prepared me for that day. Dr. Margot Aldrich, the country's foremost authority in pediatrics, stood before a packed auditorium and examined a baby who had screamed himself purple. "We will keep observing." The mother fell to her knees. "Please, my baby is dying..." Margot let out a short laugh. "Am I the expert here, or are you?" The room went silent. In my ears, a tiny voice raged. "Are you grown-ups blind? Something is stuck under my belly button! It is not a stomachache! Somebody cut me open already!" I did not stop to think. I pushed through the crowd, dropped beside the crib, and looked Margot in the eye. "Dr. Aldrich, let me try."

After failing my 99th target-conquest mission, I stand in the rain, drenched in hopelessness. "Mission failed. Punishment—death." Those four words have haunted me for five whole years. For the first three years, I've pushed my conquest progress to 99%. Everything changed when Aurora Lowe's first love, Joe Bannerman, returned from abroad. Now, my conquest progress has plunged back to 30%. I'm so done. I've searched for her grandmother's keepsake in the pouring rain, only to find Aurora tending to his twisted ankle in the hospital. Honestly, I've made peace with the thought of death at this point. "System, I quit my mission," I mutter calmly. A new message appears on the system interface. "Mission abandoned. Conquest progress will decrease by 1% each day. Once it reaches 0%, the mission will be deemed a failure. Failure penalty—execution of target." I freeze. Hold on, wait a second—who's being executed here?