Plot Twists Short Stories & Poor Student Face Slapping Novels

After the semester began, all of my dorm mates wanted a part-time job. To fit in, I said I wanted one too. One by one, my dorm mates found part-time jobs, while I was still lazing around in the dorm. My dorm mate sent me a message. [How are you going to get by without a job?] I remembered a meme I'd seen online and texted back, "A kind middle-aged couple pays my bills, so I don't need a job right now." I didn't think much of it, until I stumbled across a post on social media. [My dorm mate said she wanted to get a part-time job, but all she does is lie around the dorm. When I asked how she could afford not to work, she said a married couple was paying all her bills. Should I report her for misconduct?] I thought it was funny. The comments gave her all kinds of advice. [Report her! What if she takes a scholarship spot from you?] [Exactly, get her expelled!] I still didn't think much of it until my academic advisor, Ethan Davis, showed up at my door. "Chloe, someone reported you for misconduct. They claim you're a sugar baby. Is that true?"

A new game had become the latest craze among Jexford’s wealthy elite: drawing lots to choose a bride. On the day of Grandpa’s eightieth birthday celebration, the two women I had grown up with decided to settle which of them would get to marry me by drawing lots. However, when the time came, they drew a mute waitress into the game on a whim. After the waitress drew the losing slip, they started egging me on to marry her, all because they wanted to make the underprivileged student I was sponsoring happy. I watched the mute waitress stand surrounded by the crowd. She seemed overwhelmed and unsure of what to do, so I stepped forward to defend her. “Fine. I’ll marry her!”

When the conglomerate's heir parachutes into our company, he conveniently brings along a "poor student" he's been sponsoring for years. That afternoon, they turn the entire office upside down. The young heir, Matthew Zohart, has no idea how to handle problems. All he knows how to do is smooth things over. He lets Gracie Fowler blow through my team's entire bonus and just stands there as she throws a tantrum in the open office. "I'm the future daughter-in-law chosen by the Zohart family!" she shrieks. "What are you people, anyway? Just a bunch of office drones!" Enraged, I rip off my work badge and turn to walk out. The very next second, Matthew drops down and grabs my leg. "You can't leave! I don't know how to do anything! If the team leader who actually gets things done quits, won't my family's company collapse?"

After my son’s surgery, I stayed overnight at the hospital. While keeping watch, I scrolled through my phone and came across a post. [What’s the worst thing you’ve ever done?] An anonymous user replied. [I used the senior who sponsored me as a stepping stone.] [My sponsor was rich and clueless. He paid for my entire college education, and after I graduated, I slept with his wife. She even had my child.] [The best part is that he treats my son like his own. He works himself to exhaustion just to set that kid up for life.] [By the way, his family just received three million from the relocation compensation. My lover will be here soon. She’ll pretend we need it for a school district apartment and trick him into giving it to us.] [Once the cash is in hand and the villa is bought, I’ll have my son acknowledge me as his real father and then throw my sponsor out of the house.] A blurry photo of a little boy was attached. My heart skipped a beat. On his wrist was the safety charm I had given my son. Just then, my wife pushed open the hospital room door. “Honey, Xeno is starting elementary school soon. Let’s take your mom’s compensation money from the relocation and use it to buy a place in a good school district.”

I've been sponsoring Bree Webb, a young woman who comes from a low-income background. She's being ostracized at school and begs to move into my home. In my last life, I feel sorry for her and let her in. She repays me by accusing my younger brother, Eric Whitmore, of assault. Because of her, his reputation is in tatters, and he's branded as a rapist. Bree squeezes my family dry, demanding compensation at every turn. Eric then sinks into depression and eventually jumps off a building. She walks away with everyone's sympathy and even has the nerve to taunt me to my face. "Leah, thank you so much. Without you, I never could've gone from nothing to this overnight." Now I'm reborn, and Bree shows up again with the same tearful eyes. "Leah, my roommates are bullying me. I lie awake night after night. The doctor says I'm already showing signs of severe depression." I look at that pitiful face of hers and smile. "Sure. But we're doing this by my rules."

Sylvia Raine, the underprivileged college student I have financially supported for seven years, turns around and puts me on the trending topics right after I lose my job and stop sending her money. She makes a post, crying about how I only supported her because I had ulterior motives and how I maliciously cut off her financial support after she rejected me, driving her to the brink of starvation. The Internet condemns me as a pervert, and a netizen even shows up at the construction site where I work as a laborer to cause a scene. Sylvia smugly sends me a voice message. "Wire me 50 grand, or I'll ruin your reputation!" She assumes I'll pay up to protect my reputation and keep being her long-term ATM. Instead of calling the cops, I let out a soft chuckle and transfer her a single cent. I casually leave a single sentence in the transfer remark. Ten minutes later, she starts calling me frantically. I don't answer a single call. An hour later, the Internet blows up.

My dorm mate, Chloe Dawson, had a sweet voice, but she wasn't very pretty. She loved online dating and had four online boyfriends at the same time. She looked at me with a smug smile. "Ivy, no guy ever wants you. How about I give you one of my boyfriends? He wants to meet me today anyway." I was about to refuse when strange words suddenly appeared in front of me. [Heroine, don't give the villainess the male lead's contact info! Sure, you used her photos to get his attention online, but he's not that shallow. He loves you for who you are!] [The villainess is just a poor student on financial aid. How could someone like her ever take the heroine's place and date the male lead?] [Exactly! Heroine, don't do anything stupid! The male lead is Nathan Ashworth, CEO of the Ashworth Group! You can't just hand a great guy like him over to someone else!]

As a low-income student who's specifically recruited by the elite college this year, I can still feel my hands trembling as I clutch the letter that tells me I get to study for free. Not only are my tuition and miscellaneous fees waived, but I also get to receive 30 thousand dollars' worth of student grant per year. I even get to have free access to the leather seats inside the library, the equipment inside the gym, as well as the aerial garden on the roof. The best surprise for me has to be the cafeteria. All low-income students get a 50% discount on their meals, but the quality of their food doesn't decrease at all. Best beef is used in the steak dinners offered by the cafeteria, whereas a seafood platter showcases the entire huge lobster. Even the most basic mac and cheese meal has different types of freshly grated cheese baked into it. As I sit in the brightly lit classroom and look at the rich students around me, who wear custom-made uniforms and have branded watches latched around their wrists, all I have is one thought. I must be on good terms with them. But my seatmate, who's also a low-income student, isn't as thrilled as me. In fact, she just looks at the people around her with disdain in her eyes. After the first lesson, a rich student arrives at our table. He might not sound polite at all, but at least he's not putting on airs. "Do any of you have time to head over to the cafeteria and buy me breakfast?" I'm about to respond to him when a shrill voice booms out next to me. "You're so annoying! What, you think you rule the campus since you're rich? Had I known that this classroom is filled with useless scions like you who just waste their lives away on nothing, I wouldn't have enrolled in this college in the first place!"

After my girlfriend of seven years checked in from the foreign third-world country, Bayndemar, she suddenly vanished without a trace. That same night, I received a video from her phone. In the footage, a man wielding an electric baton sneered at the camera. "Bring five million dollars to the compound if you want her back alive." Beside him, my girlfriend's clothes were torn, her body covered in blood. Trembling, she begged through tears, "Ryan! Save me! They promised they'd let me go once the money's paid!" Without hesitation, I went alone. But the moment I landed, I was drugged into unconsciousness. In the end, I was tortured to death. Meanwhile, my girlfriend returned home with one-third of the ransom money and married the student my family had sponsored. When I opened my eyes again, I had returned to the very day she disappeared.

During the outdoor orientation boot camp, Wanda Lawson, the daughter of the richest tycoon, suddenly suffered from a heart attack. She collapsed to the ground and went through a seizure, her complexion bluish-gray. My boyfriend, Joseph Jensen, the drill instructor of the boot camp, overheard my pretentious roommate, Ella Ziegler, murmur, "She's usually fine, so why is she suddenly suffering from some sort of attack when it's time for the drills to start? She must be faking it in order to laze around!" Because of those assumptions, Joseph kicked the medication that Wanda managed to pull out of her pocket into the nearby river. "Get lost if you want to play dead! Don't drag us down with you!" I quickly dived into the river and scooped the medication out. Thanks to my efforts, Wanda's life was saved. Her father was enraged when he found out about the news and wanted to hold someone responsible. With tears streaking down my face, I begged Wanda to not expose Joseph. She nodded quietly to me. Joseph narrowly escaped the judgment. But Ella was expelled by the university right away for her malicious and provocative words. She even had a permanent stain of poor conduct marking her record. On the third day after Ella returned to her village, her family forced her to marry an older man who had remained single for far too long because of his violent temperament. Wanda's father was grateful to me for saving Wanda's life, so he listed me into the list of beneficiaries of his family's trust fund. The amount of money I received was second only to Wanda's portion. On the night news of Ella getting beaten to death by her husband got out, Joseph lovingly invited me to the place we first met so that we could go hiking. When I stood on the steep slope of the mountain, Joseph suddenly snatched the backpack filled with supplies, which included a life-saving whistle, from me. Then, he shoved me off the slope. "Why must you be such a busybody? If you never saved Wanda, she wouldn't have been able to testify against Ella because she'd have died! A murderer like you should just die!" Having broken my spine from the fall, I ended up dying at the foot of the mountain. After my death, not only Joseph got to receive the trust fund thanks to his relationship to me as my fiance, but he also began sponsoring low-income students by using Ella's namesake. That was how he reaped both wealth and reputation in one go. When I open my eyes again, I've returned to the day Wanda suffers from the heart attack.

My son just had surgery. I'm sitting by his bedside in the hospital when I come across a post online. "What's the worst thing you've ever done?" One anonymous comment stands out. "I used the upperclassman who funded me as a stepping stone. My sponsor was rich but clueless. After she paid for my entire college, I slept with her husband and got pregnant. "The craziest part? My son and her son were born on the same day, but my husband swapped the babies. Now, she treats my son like he's her whole world, working day and night to give him a better life. "But her own son lives with me, wearing hand-me-downs and eating leftovers. Today, my son had surgery. I was worried sick, so I slapped her son hard a few times. "Oh, and her family just got a three-million-dollar payout for relocation. My husband is going to the hospital later. He's going to use the excuse of buying a house near the schools to get the money. "Once we have the money, I'm buying a villa. Then I'll get my son back and kick her out!" The post includes a blurry photo of a boy begging on his knees. My breath catches because the charm on his wrist is the same lucky charm I gave my son the day he was born. Just then, my husband pushes open the door to the ward and walks in. "Honey, Sean's starting elementary school soon. Let's use that relocation money your mom received to buy a house near the schools."

I was a struggling student, and after I argued with Julian Grant yet again over our different attitudes toward money, he began desperately trying to win me back. He sent me flowers and meals every day and waited for me outside my dormitory. But I remained determined to break up with him. My best friend tried to persuade me: "Julian has practically begged you to take him back, and you're still going to keep putting on airs? "If you truly don't want him, I'll pursue him myself. I'll treat him right." I was about to snap back at her when I saw the comments floating across my vision: [The female lead is finally starting to feel sorry for the male lead. Their sweet romance is about to begin.] [This irrelevant female antagonist is seriously irritating. She's dirt poor and still so pretentious. Just write her out already!] [Can the male and female leads just get together already? I don't want any more scenes with this side character!]

At graduation, I invited my classmates to attend my engagement party, but what I didn’t expect was the total meltdown one of my classmates had when she saw my engagement photos. She strutted over, full of herself, and demanded that I take off my dress so she could use it to polish her shoes. I blinked in confusion, thinking she must have lost her mind. I laughed and suggested she head over to the campus clinic to get checked out. Instead, she exploded, pointing a finger right in my face as she started yelling. “You leech! How dare you wear something so expensive?” she screamed. “You’ve been spending all of my boyfriend’s money on your filthy clothes! Have you no shame? Get down on your knees and apologize, or I guarantee you'll regret it. Who knows where you'll end up tomorrow? Maybe in the hands of some trafficker?” I couldn’t help but laugh. Who would’ve thought that my fiancé, whose tuition fees I paid for, had the nerve to keep a secret mistress behind my back?

After the college entrance exam results are released, my childhood best friend, Lucille Kirk, and I celebrate with our families at a five-star hotel. Over dinner, our parents talk about how nice it would be if we applied to the same university. That way, we can continue looking out for each other, just as we have while growing up. I glance across the table at Lucille and ask politely, "Lucille, which university are you planning to apply to?" The moment the words leave my mouth, a flood of comments suddenly flashes before my eyes. "Oh, here we go again. I bet this pathetic second male lead is planning to follow the female lead to the same university." "I feel so bad for the female lead. She's had to put up with this guy clinging to her for three whole years just to keep the peace between their families." "Don't worry. The female lead has already agreed to attend Aurelia University with the male lead, Sawyer Spencer. She's definitely going to name some school on the other side of the country just to get this guy off her back. I can't wait to see his face when she does!" Lucille stares at me, her brows furrowed. Then she lets out a cold, dismissive laugh. "Clement Carnegie, where I go has nothing to do with you. I'm applying to South Coast University, all the way across the country. That place isn't suitable for you." I meet her gaze and nod, as if I couldn't care less. Then I turn to the girl standing quietly in the corner of the private dining room, silently holding the Kirk family's coats and car keys. "Mabel, which university do you want to apply to?" I ask. "I want to go to the same one as you." The sneer on Lucille's face instantly freezes. Both our families stare at us in shock. None of them knows that the timid girl with the cheap hearing aid—the one Lucille constantly calls "dummy"—is actually the long-lost daughter of Aurelia's wealthiest family. They have been searching for her for 18 years. And all these years, the reason I keep showing up at the Kirk Manor has never been because I'm chasing Lucille. I only go there so I can see that "dummy" a little more often.

The girl I put through ten years of school stood up at her own graduation and thanked me in front of everyone. A second later, three translucent lines appeared in front of my eyes. [She will steal the Prescott family's trade secrets, start her own company, and turn on you.] [She will publish an essay and put the internet on your family. Your wife will die of a heart attack.] [Prescott Logistics will fold. The estate will go to auction. You will die in front of the men you owe.] I stared at her. "Vanessa. Have you spent all these years filing away everything we did for you as a reason to hate us?" She blinked at me, wide-eyed and innocent. That was when I understood. The snake was already full grown. I couldn't just club it to death. I had to open the cage first, and let her crawl in on her own.

I was a sucker for pretty faces. The only reason I agreed to date Isabelle was because she was passable-looking as partner material. It had only been a few days since junior year started when my roommate came over to me and awkwardly said, "Damian, I just spotted your girlfriend getting pretty close to that well-known broke pretty boy by the campus lake." I immediately rolled up my sleeves and rushed toward the lake. From a distance, I saw Isabelle standing very close to a slim young man. But the moment I got a good look at his face, I froze. "Damn! This guy was insanely handsome!" He was so good-looking that even I, as another guy, was jealous. Isabelle frowned and stepped in front of me. She said impatiently, "His grandma was rushed to the hospital after a heart attack. I was only trying to comfort him. Don't give him a hard time for no reason, okay?" I pulled her aside, then walked over and gave the handsome guy a firm pat on the shoulder. "Bro, if you're in trouble, you can come to me!"

Before my wedding to Sophie Bennett, the impoverished student I've been sponsoring for ten years posts a photo on social media. "Successfully moved into the new apartment. Soph prepared such a big, soft bed for me!" In the photo, Zachary Wells lies sprawled on the wedding bed I bought for Sophie and my new home, taking a smug selfie with his hand waving at the camera. He's even wearing my wedding ring on his ring finger. Zachary also comments on his own post, "Just thinking about how I'm the first man to lie on this bed fills me with overwhelming happiness!" I reply with a question mark under his comment. The next second, Sophie's call comes through. "I'm just letting Zach experience the warmth of home. Why are you being so passive-aggressive?" In the background, I hear Zachary softly trying to calm her down. "Soph, he's not worth getting angry over." Hearing that, Sophie laughs and banters with him, then abruptly hangs up on me. The two of us have been together for ten years, from ages 18 to 28, and we've finally made it to our wedding day. But now, I no longer intend to go through with it.

Felix and I had been inseparable for ten years, and everyone thought we would end up married. When he got into fights at school, I took the blame and got expelled in his place. When he slept with countless women, I delivered birth control pills and breakup money in his place. I had always played the part of the shameless doormat, and everyone believed I loved him more than life itself. But the moment he took over as the heir to his family's fortune, he dumped me. He looked at me with scorn and disdain. "Kathy, maybe once upon a time we were in love, but it's been too long. You're dull, and you've drained away every ounce of my affection. I don't want to spend the rest of my life with you, so get out of my sight. I'm going to marry someone I truly love." Everyone was waiting to watch me fall apart. But when I saw the hospital's proof that my mother had been cured, and the extra hundred million dollars in my bank account, I genuinely smiled. "Fine. I'll leave," I said. The truth was, I had stayed with a player like him only because of a business deal. Now that I had the money, it was time for me to walk away.

After my son finished his final exams, I ordered him a limited-edition supercar as a gift. But not long afterward, I came across a video of him riding an electric scooter and delivering takeout orders. I was deeply moved. I thought he was trying to learn how difficult life could be. Just as I was about to tell him not to overwork himself, I stumbled upon a post from a struggling student my wife was sponsoring. "Thank you for the gift. I'll work even harder from now on." Cyrus Young looked nothing like his usual modest self. He was dressed in a custom-tailored suit, wearing handmade leather shoes and a luxury dive watch as he posed beside my wife for a photo. And parked behind them was the limited-edition supercar I had carefully picked out for my son. A surge of anger rose in my chest. Unable to hold it back any longer, I called my wife. "Olivia Quinn, if this is the best you can do as my wife, then we're done. I'll find someone better."

I'm the ultimate soft touch. My dirt-poor roommate used to survive by digging through trash cans for food. Pity got the better of me, so I covered his tuition, his living expenses, and slipped him fifty dollars a day out of my own pocket. My only condition: he had to tag along whenever I went to my private tutoring sessions. I thought he was grateful for it. Then, junior year, he strutted into the classroom head to toe in designer labels and hurled fifty coins in my face in front of the whole class. "Fifty a day, and you treated me like your personal slave for three years—dragged me along to sit through lectures I couldn't even follow, humiliated me every step of the way! "Well, guess what? My real father just tracked me down. He's a billionaire, and he handed me a black card with no spending limit. Here's your fifty back. I'm done being your errand boy. "And I'll never turn into some arrogant jerk just because I've got a little money—unlike you!" Then he handed out luxury bags to everyone in the class except me. The whole room fell for it instantly, chanting, "Long live Elmer!" I stared at the forty-three purchase notifications that had just popped up on my phone and went quiet. I checked again. My black card—the one my father had given me—was gone. Everything clicked into place. The rich long-lost father? All fake. He'd simply stolen my black card, played dress-up as a billionaire's son, and stomped on me on his way up. Without a word, I made one phone call. And transferred the black card into his name. He'd clearly watched too many soap operas—he thought a black card was some kind of savings account. He had no idea it was just a credit card with a higher limit, and every cent he spent on it, he'd owe back.