Male POV Face Slapping Short Stories & Novels

For three years, I worked three jobs a day to send Wendy Stallone to university. In the end, I ended up doing all the chores at home as well. On the day Wendy graduated, the Stallone family came to bring her back to the family, and she turned into a socialite overnight. Everyone said my years of hardship had ended, and I was about to become rich. During the celebration party, Clark Quinn, Wendy’s childhood friend, sat beside her like he was born to orbit around her and asked me whether it was time for me to step aside. Wendy said nothing and just toyed with Clark’s fingers. Under the dazzling lights, I stared at her and asked calmly, “Are we going to break up?” She was stunned for a moment before she gave an awkward smile. “What on earth are you saying? Stop throwing a tantrum.” I could see that she was hesitating, and I just smiled faintly. “It’s fine. You don’t have to feel troubled about it. I’ll leave.” That night, I packed up my bags and left the rental house that had carried three years’ worth of memories of my life with Wendy. Behind me, I heard Wendy’s friends snickering. “Wendy, want to make a bet? In less than three days, that guy’s going to come back begging to get together with you again.” Wendy sipped some wine and said firmly, “Three days? He’s a poor idiot who can’t survive without me. He’ll be back tomorrow to make me breakfast.”

My fiancée canceled the five-million-dollar investment I'd made in my best friend's company and replaced it with a five-hundred-dollar transfer. She told me that real friendship shouldn't be measured in money. Three days later, she invested a hundred million dollars in her childhood sweetheart's company at the most expensive hotel in Manhattan, in front of Wall Street investors and the media. Everyone started cheering, telling her she might as well just marry the guy. She didn't stop them. Why would she? She believed that no matter what she did, I'd never leave. What she didn't know was that I owned the core system that generated most of Nexora's profits. I'd spent eight years building Nexora, the company she was so proud of, from the ground up. She also didn't know my last name was Hale. I was the sole heir to Hale Global Group, a conglomerate powerful enough to bankrupt Nexora with a single word.

My fiancée is beautiful and has a steady job. She's into drones, and she joined a group chat. I hinted to her, carefully, that the people in that group weren't right, and that if anything went wrong she'd be on the hook too. Then I joined the group myself on a burner account, and saw the way Alyssa carried herself in there. Several men who were obviously close with her kept posting flirty stickers. Alyssa's voice messages came back all bashful. “Stop it! You're all married men, and you're picking on me like this!” “Next flight, let's all go camping together.” Their plan was five men and one woman, two days and one night. And a drone taking photographs at twenty-six thousand feet. You'd have to have something wrong with your head to do that.

My girlfriend never felt safe with me. She was always testing whether I'd leave her. We were together five years. In that time, she ran three hundred tests. A month into the relationship, she called me drunk and said a man was harassing her at a bar. When I got there, I found a man holding her down, kissing her. A year and a half in, I was about to pay for my mother's surgery and found every dollar gone from my account. After I'd scrambled and borrowed and finally covered it, my girlfriend texted me, laughing: "Congratulations. You passed." It wasn't until our wedding day, when she walked in holding another man's hand, that something in me finally died.

A Code Blue in the emergency department means a patient's heart has stopped and every pair of hands in the building is wanted. The president cut his own report off mid-sentence and sent me down to the resuscitation. The charge nurse was already prepping my gown at a run, saving every second she could find. And a first-year resident, three months on the job, was standing in front of the procedure-room doors with a printout from the pharmacy in his hand. He put it to me in front of everyone. "Dr. Hale, sixty ampoules of anesthetic went out of your department in March. Did you take them out and sell them? "The head of cardiothoracic surgery, doing something that filthy? Sixteen years in this hospital. Tell all of us how much you've taken in kickbacks." He said it with real conviction. And the eyes coming at me from up and down the corridor were full of doubt. But I didn't have the time to fight with him. The window on a heart attack like that one is ninety minutes. Fifteen of them were already gone.

After getting trapped in a malfunctioning elevator with two classmates, my classmate Sheldon couldn't resist running his mouth. He pressed the emergency call button and said, "Sir, you fell for it! We were just pressing it for fun!" "Brats!" The security guard cursed and slammed the phone down. Harvey and I wanted to beat Sheldon up on the spot. Sheldon, however, looked completely unconcerned. "Just press it again." When the call connected again, Sheldon grabbed the chance to speak first. "Hahaha! Sir, it's us again! Why do you keep falling for it?" The security guard lost his temper. "You bunch of kids–" I quickly cut him off. "Sir, don't hang up! The elevator really is malfunctioning! We're trapped inside!" Sheldon, however, clicked his tongue and sighed. "Jason, you're even better at acting than I am." The call disconnected again. Harvey and I were so furious our jaws were clenched tight. Meanwhile, the temperature inside the enclosed elevator kept rising. Harvey's asthma suddenly flared up, but he had left his inhaler behind. I could only dial the number again like a madman before desperately trying to explain. "Sir, my classmate is having an asthma attack! He's barely breathing! Please, you have to believe me this time!" The security guard replied coldly, "Are you kids ever going to stop? I've encountered plenty of pranks like this. Don't abuse public resources and interfere with me doing my job!" The call was hung up again. I watched as Harvey's face turned blue, and his breathing grew weaker and weaker. I completely panicked.

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."

After the holiday, the student council president assigns me the task of mentoring a freshman named Mona Leach. I text her to discuss the task at hand, but she ignores my messages. When she finally replies to me, her words are scathing. "I'm a freshman, but that doesn't mean you can harass me just because you're my senior. I have a boyfriend." Just as I'm wondering how she even got the idea that I'm interested in her, I see her complaining in the student council group chat. She writes, "Just because he's a senior doesn't mean he can harass a freshman. I already told him I have a boyfriend, but he keeps bothering me. I barely started my freshman year, and I have to deal with such disgusting behavior. This is going to traumatize me." What's this about me harassing her? My family has billions in assets that I'll inherit sooner or later. Heiresses from other wealthy families are lining up to marry me. Why would I ever need to harass her?

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."

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."

It's Valentine's Day, and I'm at my desk at the county courthouse when my fiancee, Shelby Smith, walks in to get a marriage license with her male best friend, Liam Pearson. She slides her ID across the counter and offers a casual excuse. "Rowen, don't be mad. I lost a game of Truth or Dare. The penalty is being married to Liam for just one day. I'm bringing him back tomorrow for a divorce." Liam, who has a woman's jacket draped on his shoulders, pipes up with a snide grin. "I don't think Rowen is going to process this for us. After all, he's always had a problem with me. I just don't get men—" Before he can finish, I slam the official stamp down on their application form. "Why wouldn't I? I get it. You two are best friends, nothing more. You just lost a dare, that's all. Take this form over there to pay the marriage license fee. Congratulations." Shelby's face instantly falls when she sees how completely unbothered I am. She hooks her arm through Liam's and storms out. The next day, she shows up at the courthouse with Liam again. I take one look at the vivid hickey on her neck, smile, and hand her a waiting-period notice instead. "Sorry, but a new policy has just been communicated to us. Couples rushing into a quickie divorce like you two need to go home and really think things through. If you still want to call it quits, come back in six months."

Cosmo Finch, the class president, announces in the group chat that the graduation dinner is being held at 6:00 pm. I arrive at the restaurant ten minutes early and wait outside the private dining room, only for him to stop me and shove a payment QR code in my face. "You're the last one in the class to arrive. Now, transfer me 300 dollars if you want to get in!" I'm baffled. "Didn't you tell us it starts at 6:00 pm? It's only 5:50 pm. How am I late?" Cosmo rolls his eyes and sneers, "Everyone else arrived an hour early to toast our advisor. You're the only one who shows up on the dot. Do you have no sense of team spirit? If you don't want to pay your share, leave!" Not wanting to make a scene at our last college get-together, I transfer the money with a cold expression and push open the door to the private dining room. However, the moment I step inside, my classmates are already putting on their coats and getting ready to leave. I take in all the sparkling-clean plates on the table, not quite processing what I'm seeing. Cosmo calls out from behind, "Everyone, grab your belongings. It's time to hit the speakeasy bar! Kieran, since you showed up last, the rest of the bill is on you!"

My sister, Gizanne Miller, is the founder and CEO of Miller Corporation. I hide my identity and join the company as an intern. However, the Head of HR, Dorothy Kellan, tells me that after three months as an intern, I will not be offered a permanent position, and that all my wages from the internship will be withheld. "Why?" "You took three days off." I look at Dorothy, almost amused. "First of all, that was bereavement leave. Second, I followed the proper procedure when I applied for it. And third..." I turn to look at another intern who started on the same day as me, Ethan Holte. "He takes days off every month to take care of his girlfriend who suffers from menstrual pain. Why does he get to stay?" Dorothy looks at me with disdain. "He's related to the boss; that's why. Besides, his girlfriend's period pain is so severe it's practically life-threatening. But you? You just lost your grandmother. That's all. Why do you think that you're entitled to take time off?"

On my wedding day, my fiancee, Alisson Poole, never shows up. Neither do her bridesmaids. I stand alone at the altar all day, enduring a roomful of pitying and contemptuous stares. After 999 rejected calls, I finally accept that she has fled the wedding. Back in our empty home, I see a post from her first love, Rhett Barker. "The art I want to explore with you goes beyond the soul. It includes the body, too." In the photo, Alisson wears the million-dollar custom wedding dress I bought her. She and her six bridesmaids kneel commando at his feet. Their eyes are dazed, burning with raw desire. They look at him like he's their deity, eager to be his most devoted followers. I stare at the picture for a long time, then leave a quick like and a comment. "May your noble art stay locked together forever." I screenshot the post and send it to the six bridesmaids' boyfriends. A masterpiece like this deserves a proper audience.

After my wife, Talia Rosenthal, becomes pregnant with her mentor's son, Lucas Hawthorne's, child, she asks me for a divorce. "We can get married after the baby's born. It's just for show, so don't read too much into it." To make matters worse, our daughter, Joyce Rosenthal, takes her side. "We need to repay those who help us. Besides, that's my mom's child too. Stop making things difficult for Mom, Dad." Instead of causing a scene like everyone expects, I nod quietly, swiftly finalize the divorce, and marry Sonya Silverstein, the woman who once saved my life. In my previous life, because I adamantly refuse to get a divorce, Talia and Joyce abandon me and leave for a distant land. I become a total laughingstock and hit rock bottom. Now that I've been given a second chance at life, I calmly go through with the divorce and vanish from their lives. … Six years later, at an exclusive luxury cruise party, Talia and Joyce push through the crowd on the dance floor, grab me by the wrist, and demand, "Didn't I tell you it was just for show? Where the hell have you been all these years?" I'm caught off guard. The very next second, my mischievous son, Jeremy Jensington, runs straight into my arms. "Daddy, who are you talking to? Mommy's looking for you!"

My younger brother, Lance Knight, is an illegitimate son with a shameful existence. He's always been at odds with me from a young age. Whenever I rank first in an exam, Lance will report me to the school authorities for cheating. After I've joined my family company as a member of the board of directors, Lance goes as far as ramming his sports car into the company's main entrance. Once I start dating my girlfriend, Amethyst Wyndham, Lance does everything he can to steal her from me. Thank goodness Amethyst is naturally cold, aloof, and haughty due to her scholarly background. Whenever Lance proclaims his love for her in a seemingly devoted manner, she tends to reward him with a ruthless slap. "I'm your future sister-in-law. You'd better get rid of those disgraceful thoughts of yours." Later on, Lance finally accepts his fate. He no longer fights with me. Instead, he begins tempering his skills as an employee of the lowest rank in the company. Our father, Jeremiah Knight, openly praises Lance for his efforts at the year-end company gala. Even Amethyst makes a proud remark about Lance finally becoming mature. But on the night I officially take over the company as the CEO, Lance sends me a video clip. In that video, Amethyst, who has skipped out on the ceremony, can be seen nestling against Lance seductively.

Gerald Dawson, my brother-in-law, is losing a lot of blood and urgently needs a transfusion. He has a rare blood type, Rh-negative, and Brian Johnson, my wife's first love, happens to be the closest person with the matching blood type. In my past life, I beg Brian to save Gerald. He gets lightheaded after donating his blood, misses a step, and tumbles down the stairs, breaking his neck and dying instantly. Gemma Dawson, my wife, pins his death entirely on me. She takes me bungee jumping on my birthday and directly pushes me off the platform. "Brian suffered so much when he died! You're going to pay it back a hundredfold, Simon!" I have been reborn, and Gemma chooses her first love over me. I respect her decision and wish her the best, but she eventually comes to regret her choice.

I've just booked a restaurant for my seventh wedding anniversary with my wife, Melanie Rowland, when several lines of text suddenly appear across my vision. "Would you like to take part in a loyalty test? "We'll randomly give your wife a system. If she tells you about it, you win, and the two of you will receive one million dollars." After seven years of marriage, I have no doubt Melanie loves me. As far as I'm concerned, that million dollars is already in the bag. Still, I'm curious enough to ask one question. "What if we lose?" "If you lose, it proves your marriage has failed. In return, you'll receive a mystery prize big enough to let you start your life over. "The price of participating is allowing people from another dimension to watch you. Choose carefully." I couldn't care less about the mystery prize. I'm already planning to use the million dollars to buy Melanie the condo she's had her eye on for ages. After I agree to join the game, I hurry home. The moment I walk in, I catch a flash of panic on Melanie's face. She brushes me off with a few vague excuses and hurries into the study. Through the closed door, I hear her talking to Hayden Locke, the guy she grew up with. "Hayden, I just got an apocalypse system. It says the end of the world is coming. I'm going to find somewhere to build a safe house, and I promise I'll keep you safe. Don't worry. I won't tell Alex a word. "When the world ends, it'll be you and me together." I freeze. Her apocalypse system is fake, but the countdown to my mystery prize has probably already begun.

I'm known throughout my family as the resident tattletale, and I refuse to let even the smallest offense slide. When I was three, Aunt Cassandra stole a piece of my cheesecake. That same night, I ran to Grandma's bedside and wailed as though someone had died. The next morning, Aunt Cassandra stepped out of her room with her left foot first, and Grandma beat her so badly that she ended up with a broken leg. When I was eight, my cousin, Penelope Georgiou, secretly hid her lunch money inside her shoe. I immediately tipped off my Uncle Reuben. Penelope not only received a beating, but also got searched down to her underwear and lost every last dollar. From then on, Mom established a new family rule. No one is allowed to sneak food, hide money, or give me any reason to start talking. After graduating from college, I conceal my identity and take a job at the family company. Dad holds my hand, his face lined with worry. "The company is crawling with snakes and backstabbers. Treat it like entertainment, keep your head down, and stay out of the drama. Most importantly, keep your mouth shut and don't start tattling. Let your sister enjoy a few peaceful days for once!" I follow his advice so well that, after three months, everyone at the company assumes I'm a spineless pushover. Then, an intern named Finley Tatum joins the company, steals my proposal, and puts his own name on it. "A nobody with no connections can't possibly beat me out for a full-time position. After all, my sister is the CEO of this company." Melanie Ashcroft, the supervisor, is quick to suck up to him. "Once his sister takes full control of the company, low-level nobodies like you will be packing your bags and leaving," she says. Remembering Dad's warning, I keep my mouth firmly shut and don't say a word. However, he only told me not to talk. My hands still work perfectly well. I immediately text my sister, Sabrina Georgiou. "Sabrina, your dear little brother says I'm getting fired as soon as you take over the company."

The side character, Derek Holloway, poured his heart and soul into every single year of high school. When the moment came to earn a place in the honors program, his childhood best friend, Vivian Sterling, handed the golden ticket straight to Blake Mercer, the male lead. Vivian's voice sounded flat, completely unbothered. "I've really thought this through. If we're in the same class, we'll just distract each other from studying. "Besides, Blake's family is struggling financially. He needs this opportunity way more than you do. Just step aside for him, okay?" I watched Derek step aside for Blake. One hundred and one times. I watched him go home and suffer a brutal beating from both his parents for losing that honors spot. One hundred and one times. I watched him lose his mind while the girl he'd loved since childhood paraded around town with another guy. One hundred and one times. I watched his grades plummet into the gutter, destroying any shot at admission to an Ivy League school. One hundred and one times. I watched him get framed for cheating on SAT, which drove him to jump from the thirty-sixth floor. One hundred and one times. Then I took complete control of his body. Vivian had no idea who she was dealing with. I came from an era torn apart by war and gunfire. I didn't give a damn about petty teenage romance. Anything worth taking, anything worth fighting for, I would fight for and claim every last one.