Contos sobre Plot Twists e Romances com Mistress e Face Slapping

After her miscarriage, Elise Emery became exactly the wife Colsen Locke had always wanted. She quit telling him about her day. Quit calling when he stayed out all night. Even when an old man falsely accused her of hitting him with her car, she didn't call anyone. Didn't ask for bail. She just spent seven days in custody. At dusk on the seventh day, the precinct's iron gate clanged open. Elise had barely made it down the steps when a black Maybach screeched to a stop in front of her. The door swung open. Colsen stepped out in a custom suit, tall and lean, all broad shoulders and cold control. Same polished look. Same unreadable face.

The first time Silvia Robinson undergoes ECT, she is all alone. Even Gregory Fisher, her fiance who loves her so much, is nowhere to be seen. After the doctor gives her a muscle relaxant, she starts to get drowsy. She is in a daze when she recalls what happened that evening. She has waited three hours in line for a special cake, which she is planning to surprise Gregory with. However, she comes home to see Gregory kissing her younger sister, Ella Robinson. The two are deep in a kiss as they hold each other tightly in an inseparable embrace. The cake in Silvia's hands drops to the floor, smashed beyond recognition as Silvia delivers a slap across Gregory's face. Then, she finds herself being pushed down the stairs by Ella. As she rolls down the stairs, Silvia feels like she has already seen this coming. Anyone close to her will eventually be taken away by her sister.

At the National Diving Championships, I pushed through the searing agony of seven painkiller injections in my shoulder to execute a flawless dive. Yet, I ended up losing by a mere 0.3 points to Seren Lockwood, whose splash was visibly far worse. Only after the event did I realize it was my boyfriend, Cassian Blackthorne, who handed me a bottom score of 65. I stormed into the judges’ lounge. “Cassian! You knew this event determined qualification for the world tournament, and you knew Seren didn’t dive better than me! Why give me the lowest score?” Cassian rubbed his temples with a weary expression. “Seren needs this spot far more than you do, Elowen. Just step aside for her this once. You’ll have other chances.” I was twenty-four. For a diver, there was rarely ever an “after.” Exhaustion washed over me. For three years, Cassian had used that same dismissive, disappointed tone to force my retreat. My phone vibrated in my pocket. It was an email invitation that had been sitting in my inbox for weeks—an offer from the World Aquatics Federation in Switzerland to serve as the technical advisor and head coach for its youth team. I had repeatedly turned it down for Cassian’s sake. I unlocked my phone and tapped accept. “Elowen, you’ve always been the sensible one,” Cassian said softly. I looked up at him and smiled. This time, I had no intention of being sensible ever again.

My husband, David Klaus, was a top surgeon with a strict rule: he didn't treat family. Conflict of interest, he said. Absolute professional ethics. He only broke that rule three times. The first was when severe period pain made me pass out, and he finally wrote me a sick note. The second was when my mother’s emergency surgery couldn't wait, and he allowed her into his hospital. The third was when I had a miscarriage risk, and he stepped in to save our baby. I should have felt grateful. But I didn't. Because he didn't break his rule for me. He broke it for my best friend, Wendy. All it took was a single phone call from her. "David, be good. Seeing her in pain hurts me too, and it won't ruin your reputation." And just like that, the unyielding doctor gave in for her. Afterward, he always looked at me with resentful eyes. "I keep breaking my boundaries for you." Waking up after surgery, I watched through the glass as they laughed together. She told him to stop being so rigid. He smiled and promised he would try. He never broke his rules for his wife. He broke them for her. And from then on, I didn't want his pity anymore. ---

An hour before the college application deadline, I jolt awake in my hotel room in Chanont. My girlfriend, Evelyn Keate, and my adopted brother, Marvin Needham, are nowhere to be seen. I immediately call them, reminding them to get their applications in before the deadline. To my surprise, they burst out laughing. "We're already back home, and we got our applications in last night. You still haven't submitted yours?" I can hear my parents criticizing me in the background. My mom said, "He's always like this. He's so careless that he doesn't even take his own future seriously." "Marvin has always been so much easier," my dad remarked. Laughter and chatter fill the other end of the line, while I begin to shake with panic. I almost miss the deadline. After receiving our exam results, the three of us agree to apply to the same college. Marvin can't make up his mind, so Evelyn patiently indulges him and says, "There's no rush. We'll take our time and help you pick." However, she casually brushes me off. "Just go with whatever we choose and enjoy yourself in Chanont for the next few days." Just then, my phone buzzes. Evelyn sends me the application code for Solridge University. "Hurry up, or you'll miss the deadline." I stare at the application page, my eyes stinging with tears. My score is much higher than theirs, and I can get into a better college. It turns out that the compromise I'm making doesn't matter to anyone at all. With one second left before the deadline, I click the submit button and apply to Harburt University, the school farthest from home. The three of us are one too many, so I choose to walk away.

On the day the college entrance exam results are released, I clutch my phone and wait anxiously for 40 minutes. When I see that I've scored 1580, I'm just about to shout in excitement when my sister, Rose Ward, screams and throws herself into my boyfriend, Shane Hudson's arms. "I got 1400! And you got 1450! Shane, we can both apply to Johnsburg Medical University!" I try to tell them that I can also join them, but Shane has already grabbed Rose and ran out the door with her. It isn't until the celebration party that Shane finally remembers me. "Oh, Lily. Johnsburg Vocational School is right next to the medical university. Why don't you apply for nursing there? Then the three of us can still get together," Rose says. She smiles and lightly taps me on the head. "Shane and I will be doctors, and you can be our nurse and help us out. We'd make the perfect team!" They are a perfect match, a couple made for each other. They are two jigsaw pieces that fit perfectly together, leaving no room for a third. I have spent so long chasing after them that all I ever see is them disappearing into the distance. But this time, I decide not to do so anymore.

The day I return home, my wife, Lauren Stewart, is supposed to pick me up at the airport. But at the last minute, she sends someone else instead. The man, Ethan Parker, stops me at the arrivals gate and looks me up and down with open contempt. "You're the guy who's been hanging around Lauren, right?" "The villa district on Fairview Avenue in Riverton," I say urgently. "Take me there. Now." That morning, our butler, Joshua Edwards, called to tell me that my grandfather, William Astor, was bedridden, so I caught the earliest flight home. But instead of taking me anywhere, Ethan blocks my path and glares at me like he's ready for a fight. "You homewrecker! You think you can steal another man's wife? I'll beat you to a pulp!" The first slap leaves me stunned. Then the punches start coming. Luckily, I know enough martial arts to defend myself. I strike back, sending several of them crashing to the ground. "What the hell is your problem? Were you seriously sent here by my wife to pick me up?"

Everyone in South City knew that Stella Wallace and Julian Quinn were famous for never getting along. As Julian’s fiancee in name only, Stella had laid out three rules. He was not allowed to go street racing. He was not allowed to stay out all night. Above all, he was not allowed to go see his crush, Yara Xenford. Julian deliberately went against her. He would either race along every inch of South City’s mountain roads or spend the entire night drinking at a private club until he could barely stand. On Stella’s birthday, he even purposely kissed Yara under a sky full of fireworks. He made a complete fool of Stella in front of everyone. Everyone was waiting for the drama to begin. They were sure that Stella, South City’s most sought-after socialite, would see the photos of Julian and Yara kissing all over the internet and storm over there and would drag that reckless playboy home. An hour after the photos went viral, Stella finally showed up. But she did not lose her temper, and she did not drag Julian home. She simply walked up to him and held out her hand. Her voice was so soft that it almost seemed to disappear into the air. “Julian, seven years ago, I gave you a lucky charm. Can you return it to me?” The private room went completely silent. Julian froze too. He instinctively reached up and touched the red lucky charm around his neck. Seven years ago, he had gotten into a car accident while street racing. He remained in the ICU for an entire day and night before he finally woke up. The first person he saw was Stella.

My son, Andy Morrison, gets hit and dragged nearly two miles by a drunk driver. I carry him into the hospital, his whole body drenched in blood. The emergency room light flicks on. I collapse in the hallway and scrape together enough strength to text my wife, Gwen Dalton. "Andy's in critical condition. Get here now." A few seconds later, my phone chimes. "Stay safe. I'll come when I'm done here."

Jenson Clarke lives his life like a report card. When we were dating, he used to say that anyone or anything scoring under 90 wasn't worth his time. After we get married, he grades everything I do. On our wedding anniversary, I cook a whole table of his favorite dishes. He takes a single bite and says, "89." Then he sets down his cutlery and leaves to have dinner with Aleena Walton because she has a poor appetite. For his company's anniversary gala, I try on 27 different dresses. He glances at me. "88. Not good enough to take you out." That night, he attends the gala with Aleena on his arm instead, who wears nothing more than a plain white dress. To earn a perfect score, I quit my job, earn seven certifications, and learn four foreign languages. Yet no matter how hard I try, my grade stays stuck at 89. Aleena does nothing at all, yet simply standing there makes her a hundred. "What does a 90 even look like to you?" I ask Jenson. He looks over at Aleena and says nothing. At that moment, I suddenly smile. His grading system only ever has one metric, and it isn't me. I take off my wedding ring and drop it into his wine glass. "My turn to grade you, Jenson Clarke. Your loyalty? Zero. As a husband? Zero. And as a human being? You fail."

I'm happily digging into a hot dog by the roadside when, sure enough, I spot my girlfriend, Jennifer York, in Felix Kenner's latest post. The caption reads, "You make the best medicine." After being stood up by Jennifer so many times, I've long since stopped caring. If anything. I'm starting to think I should break up with her as soon as possible and let the two of them be together.

I was at the vineyard with my mother-in-law Teresa Moretti to go over the books when a stack of bills hit me square in the face. "How much can a tax audit even make you?" The blonde woman pointed at the scattered cash, her smile dripping with contempt. "Take the money and get lost. Don't ruin my tasting party." I let out a cold laugh. "What's your name? And who gave you the authority to run this vineyard?" "Monica Moretti." Monica picked at her nails, smirking. "The vineyard was a gift from my husband Luca. So naturally, he's the one who authorized it." I turned to look at Teresa. This vineyard—Luca had bought it behind the family's back just a week ago. Luca is Teresa's only son. And my husband of seven years.

During the company dinner, only two seats are left. One seat is in the corner, and the other is right next to Lana Sheffield, my secret girlfriend of three years. I barely take a step forward before she calls out my friend's name instead. "Jasper, come sit over here." Our coworkers erupt into squeals, and the group chat goes wild. "He's hot, and she's gorgeous! They look amazing just sitting next to each other!" "Ms. Sheffield has never asked anyone to sit with her before!" "I'm telling you, she treats Jasper differently. I don't care—this ship is real!" Throughout the entire dinner, Lana doesn't spare me a single glance, all to avoid raising suspicion. A server even burns me while setting down a dish, but she's too busy jumping in whenever someone tries to get Jasper to drink and piling food on his plate to even notice. In that moment, one thought suddenly surfaces in my mind—I don't want to keep going with this relationship that nobody can ever know about.

After our engagement, my fiance, Justin Ford, has someone bring a child back from Verdanne and hand him over to me. An email arrives along with the boy. "Nora, I got bored out of my mind in Verdanne and accidentally knocked Cindy up. Since you've always been sweet and obedient, I'm leaving my son with you. Consider it practice. When we come home, you'll be all set to work as our nanny." Without a word, I hand the child over to the butler. Seven years later, all the CEOs stationed overseas return to headquarters to report in. Justin pulls up in a Maybach with a whole entourage, blocking the entrance to the Ford estate where I live. With a cigarette dangling from his lips, he tilts his head and takes off his sunglasses. "Did you miss me that badly? Is that why you're waiting out here?" He takes a drag from his cigarette before continuing, "By the way, Cindy and I got married in Verdanne so we could get our son registered. From now on, you two can treat each other like sisters. Whatever she gets, you'll get too. "The Shaws and the Fords are practically family anyway. You don't care about a piece of paper, do you?" With that, he blows smoke ring after smoke ring into my face, leaving me choking with tears streaming from my eyes. I quickly step back and wipe away the tears. My son's dad is an extremely jealous man who warned me long ago to keep my distance from the younger men in the Ford family. If my husband catches his nephew harassing his wife, all hell will break loose in the Ford family.

My girlfriend, Serena Weston, always has my "one-time" fingerprint registered on the smart lock for her house. Every time she registers it, she tells me, "Feel free to come over at any time. You're always welcome in my home!" However, every single time, when I return to her doorstep, the lock's prompt always claims, "Your fingerprint is not registered." After being locked out yet again, I stare at the sensor pad glowing red and call Serena. As soon as the call connects, her tone's apologetic as usual. "I'm so sorry! Blake was messing around yesterday and accidentally deleted your fingerprint while testing the lock. Hold on. I'll re-register it for you the next time I'm back." Once again, I have to wait for the next time. I grip my phone and suddenly recall the excuses she gave the previous times my fingerprint was deleted. The time before last, she told me there was a glitch during a system upgrade. Yet, her childhood friend Blake White's fingerprint remains untouched. Last time, she told me the lock was malfunctioning, so she'd changed the entire panel. In reality, it was because Blake had merely grumbled, "It's not safe to have too many fingerprints registered." Every single time, she has a perfectly plausible "accident" that justifies her giving in to Blake's possessiveness over the house. "Wait for me to come back and open the door for you," Serena says on the other end of the line. However, as soon as I hang up, I hear the crisp click of the lock from inside the house. Blake knows I'm outside. Yet, he locks the door from the inside. I rise to my feet and dust off my trousers, telling myself to let it be since I have no desire to walk through that door anymore.

The fortress I'd built with all my soul as refuge in the apocalypse was seized on the day of, and by my boyfriend with his childhood friend no less. Just as a zombie was about to chew through my neck, I suddenly heard his thoughts. "Who would know?! Not all zombies want to eat humans! But it's not like we have chips and cookies to munch on!" In just a flash, I whipped out the sleeve of Oreos I was carrying around. The zombie's eyes lit up. "You can understand us?!" I nodded repeatedly. "Yes! And it's not just Oreos—I have Lay's chips, Reese's Puffs… all the snacks you would want! Just name it, and I'd have it!" As I spoke, I took out all the snacks I was carrying, and the zombies promptly swarmed forward, munching and tearing up with emotion. "Argh… It's been so long since I've had these! I miss being a benign human!" "These chips are great! I could keep munching on them forever!" That was when the zombie in the lead threw an arm around my neck. "I hence declare that you shall henceforth be the queen of all zombies!" My eyes widened in shock. "M-Me?!"

In North City's matchmaking circles, everyone knew my name, Renee Ranford. I was the girl who always hung around the five Parker brothers. According to the gossip, I'd already ruined four of their engagements. I had skin thick enough to survive any amount of ridicule, and no sense of shame whatsoever. I never wore makeup. I never acted sweet. Every other sentence out of my mouth referred to them as my "bros." Yet somehow, every woman who tried to marry into the family ended up walking away. The rumors only got worse. "That tomboy's a complete psycho. She can't stand seeing anyone else happy." "She loves being the only woman surrounded by men. The second one of those brothers starts dating, she has to interfere." Then Talon brought home a girlfriend, Elina Griffin. She was one of North City's most notorious gold diggers. Everyone knew it. Everyone except Talon. The first day she moved in, she greeted me with a big fake smile. I didn't think anything of it. I'd already sent four girlfriends packing. I figured she'd be gone within a few days too. I couldn't have been more wrong. The very next morning, everything I'd left at Talon's house was gone. My bedsheets had been replaced, and my toothbrush had been thrown away. Even the closet had been emptied. I was kneeling beside the living room trash can, digging through bags of garbage, when I found my mother's memorial portrait buried underneath the trash. Elina leaned against the doorway, watching me with an unhurried smile. "This is Talon's house. Don't you think it's bad luck to leave some other woman's memorial portrait here? Or have you really started treating this place like it's your own?" She folded her arms and smiled. "A fake 'one of the guys' act might've worked on everyone else, but it won't work on me. So pack your things and get out." I slowly stood, clutching the frame so tightly my nails dug into my palms. She had no idea that the woman smiling from that photograph wasn't just my mother. She was Talon's biological mother too. And I wasn't some freeloader clinging to the Parker family. I was the youngest—and only—sister of the five Parker brothers. Throw me out? Clearly she had no clue about her own place.

I had been in a relationship with Celine Jodie for seven years, but she married her first love, Dylan Graham, a month before our wedding. One afternoon, I was checking the guest list when a screenshot popped up in the wedding planning group. The screenshot was of another group chat called 'Our Promise at 18'. There was a photo of Celine and Dylan standing at the entrance of the local county clerk's office, holding their marriage certificate, and below were people who responded with texts. Her brother, Jordan Jodie, said: [Did you manage to keep it a secret from Gabriel? Don't let him delay the wedding over this matter.] My best friend, Isaac Tatum, replied: [Don't worry, he's still waiting for Celine to come back to try on her wedding dress.] Celine's best friend, Hailey Krate, wrote: [They just want to give their youth a proper ending. It's only a temporary marriage certificate. It's not like we're actually changing the groom.] Celine said: [Let's keep this from Gabriel for now. I'll explain to him after the wedding.] I held my phone, my fingertips cold. Two seconds later, the screenshot was unsent. The wedding planning group was silent for a moment. Then, Jordan casually asked how many boxes of candy I wanted to order, and Isaac urged me to try on my suit tomorrow. I stared at the screen and answered: [No need to order candy for doorgifts anymore. The groom won't be attending.]

The day Brianna Lindt is supposed to meet my adoptive parents, her phone stays off the entire day. Just the night before, she confidently promises that, as their future daughter-in-law, she'll win Mom and Dad over. But even after the server comes in for the sixth time to refill our drinks, I still can't reach her. A few hours later, I stumble upon a new post from Brianna's assistant, Elliot Collins. In the photo, Brianna is surrounded by shopping bags full of high-end gifts as she chats over drinks with his family. The caption reads, "My family's been hounding me to get married, so huge thanks to my boss for coming to the rescue and pretending to be my girlfriend." Brianna finally arrives at the restaurant that evening. "Michael, I'm sorry I'm late. Something urgent came up at work, and I had to deal with it." She takes my ice-cold hand in hers and soothes me in a gentle voice. "Knowing I was meeting Mr. and Mrs. Pearson today made me so nervous last night that I completely forgot to plug in my phone, so it stayed dead all day. Can you reschedule with your parents for another time, please?" We've been together for seven years, yet she can't even tell me the truth. Furthermore, the so-called work emergency is merely pretending to be Elliot's girlfriend so he can get his family off his back. Years of built-up disappointment finally spill over. I gently pull my hand away from hers, slip off my engagement ring, and say, "Let's call off the wedding. You can play his girlfriend for the rest of your life."

My wife's the captain of an ocean freighter, spending ten months of every year at sea. I've always trusted her completely, though I have one quiet habit nobody notices. Every time her ship docks for resupply, I invite the first mate's husband out for a couple of drinks. The first mate is the silent type, but her husband talks too much and can't hold his liquor. We chat about everyday life, what goes on aboard, and by the third round, he leans in close and says, "Your wife's so romantic. Last month when the ship docked in Beauhaven, she found a local craftsman to custom-make a full set of wave-patterned men's accessories. "A watch, cufflinks, tie clip, the works. She even had them sent back on the supply ship. I'm honestly jealous." I say quietly, "Really? I never got anything like that." I don't push it, and he's smart enough to change the subject. That night at home, I open the voyage ledger. On the Beauhaven supply manifest, the delivery address listed next to the accessories isn't mine. The storms at sea never end. It's time for me to get off this ship.