Plot Twists Romance Short Stories & Bias Face Slapping Novels

The night before the Fourth of July holiday, my husband gathered the entire company for what I thought would finally be our long-awaited public announcement. Instead, his clueless assistant burst into the room wearing a wedding dress. "Cameron, I'm here to marry you." He didn't turn her down. If anything, his eyes softened with unmistakable affection as he promoted her to vice president on the spot. The entire company erupted in cheers for their love story. When my coworkers noticed me standing frozen off to the side, one of them couldn't resist reminding me. "Stephanie, you've been with Mr. Cox for nine years. You can't let a moment this special pass without saying something!" I smiled, walked onto the stage, slipped off my wedding ring, and tossed it to Poppy Campbell. "What kind of wedding doesn't come with a ring? Here, take it."

My boyfriend's childhood friend had set her sights on the one keepsake my mother left me. She wheedled and needled at me for weeks, but I never gave in. A few months later, my boyfriend came to me again, saying his business had failed and left him buried in loan-shark debt. He said that if he couldn't pay it back, the collectors would cut off his limbs. To help him settle it, I handed over every cent I'd saved, even my mother's bracelet. That same night, while I was working at the club, I overheard a conversation in one of the private booths. "Eric, if it weren't for Donna's idea to have the rest of us play loan sharks and put on this whole act with you, there's no way your girlfriend would've handed over that bracelet she'd been hiding away." Eric laughed, pleased with himself, and downed the wine in his glass. "It's just a busted old bracelet. Donna wants it, so of course I'll find a way to get it for her. "Now help me think of something else. What's the next test for Liv?" So this was it. Everything I'd given up for him over five years of loving him had just been one long test. His so-called loan-shark debt had only ever been a scheme he'd written and directed himself. I turned and walked out of the club, and called the wealthiest man in the country, the father I'd been too stubborn to speak to for years. "Dad, I lost. I'll marry the man you picked out for me."

After seven years of playing the stand-in in an innocent, poor student and rich heir romance, I get fired. After our intimate moment, Jacob Lloyd leans back against the headboard. "Sasha's back in the country. She's not thrilled about us, so go find yourself a boyfriend." "Okay," I say. I pack my bags and leave Jindale without looking back. Five years later, my husband comes home to honor his ancestors, and I arrive ahead of him with our kid. Right outside the hotel, I run straight into Jacob and Sasha Reid. They're throwing an engagement party. Jacob spots the child by my side. Stunned for a second, he lets a wave of suppressed ecstasy wash over his face. "It's been five years… Look at how big our kid is. "Sasha can't have children for medical reasons anyway. Bring the kid back to the family, and I'll give you a place to stay." As I look at his triumphant face, I feel nothing but disgust. Five years ago, he threw me out so Sasha wouldn't misunderstand, and now he wants me back. It's too bad for him. I'm already married, and the kid isn't his.

I have an ability that I can't tell anyone about—whenever I'm intimate with my girlfriend, I can see what she was doing exactly one hour earlier. In the past, what I see is her secretly buying sexy lingerie to surprise me; or her carefully following a recipe to cook my favorite dishes; or her nervously standing in front of a mirror, checking her makeup and dress over and over as she nervously prepares to propose to me. For seven years, everything she does in that one hour is always about me. Until three days before our wedding. The moment she kisses me, a vision suddenly flashes before my eyes. In a dimly lit lounge, she has my best friend, Tyler Reed, pinned against the door. He turns his head away, his voice strained as he speaks. "We can't keep doing this! Logan is my best friend. I can't betray him…" But Avery Goodwin unbuckles his belt, her voice hoarse with desire. "I'm marrying him in three days. Let's just have fun one last time." The scene vanishes in a flash. Back in reality, Avery is still nestled in my arms, gently kissing my cheek. "Logan, we're going to be married soon. Are you happy?" I stare into her loving eyes, and suddenly let out a soft laugh. So, it turns out there is a third person in her one hour after all.

I grew up alongside the three most powerful young CEOs in Ashford. They once said that anyone who made me shed a single tear would never work in Ashford again. But today, because of a broke college student, they shoved me into an icy lake in fourteen-degree weather. "Vivienne, you're so dramatic. A little cold water won't kill you." Harrison stood on the shore, his expression ice-cold. "But Chloe can't handle being hurt." I shivered uncontrollably as I watched them gather that girl into their arms. The same men who used to panic if I so much as frowned now looked at me with nothing but disgust. I climbed onto the bank. I didn't cry or make a scene. I simply pulled out my phone and dialed the number I'd refused countless times before. "Mr. Thorne, I accept the marriage arrangement." Three days later, when the private jet of the country's richest man arrived for me, they chased it like they'd lost their minds. What they didn't know was that Damian Thorne, the ruthless, supposedly disabled head of the Thorne family, could walk perfectly well. He was also someone none of their families could afford to cross. As for me, I would never look back.

My girlfriend, Laura Dawson, once asked me a question. "If you ever made it big, would you leave me behind?" I told her no. For six years after that, I stood beside her through every low point in her life. Then the tables turned, and she was the one who made it big. At the Best Actress awards ceremony, she stood there with tears in her eyes, ready to announce the man she'd loved for years. The spotlight swept right past me and landed on the young man I'd sponsored. He stood beside Laura, his eyes red. "Will, thank you for taking care of Laura all these years. But gratitude isn't love. You can't use it to hold her hostage." Laura turned her own gaze on me, cold with warning. "I've had ten thousand dollars transferred to your card. As far as I'm concerned, we're even now." Six years of my youth, poured into her, reduced to one unremarkable number on a bank statement. I watched the internet fill up with people calling me a homewrecker. I made one phone call. "Pull every film Laura Dawson has ever made. All of them." Laura, I regret it now. Now that you've made it big, the first thing I'm going to do is leave you behind.

On my wife Christine Stott's birthday, I held a property certificate, hoping to surprise her. I waited until midnight, but she never showed up. Instead, I got a confession. Christine: [I'm pregnant, but the baby isn't yours. I'm sorry...] I stared at those words, reading them over and over. I worked hard for three years to buy this property. I worked overtime until I was vomiting blood, I drank myself into the hospital at business dinners, and I came home every night so exhausted that I would collapse straight into bed. And her? She wiped away all my efforts just by saying the baby was not mine. I called her. She answered quickly. "I'm sorry for what I did to you. I'll give you whatever you want." I took a deep breath and asked, "Anything I want?" "Yes." "Then let's get a divorce. You leave with nothing."

During my baby's sip-and-see, I spotted my wife kissing her crush in the nursery, even though she had once said that both the baby and I were her greatest blessings. I squashed down my anger and took several photos. During the celebration, the photographer asked me to move closer so we could take a family portrait, but I declined. "The baby isn't mine. I'm an outsider, so I won't be in the picture." While everyone stared at me in confusion, I displayed the photos of their affair on the big screen.

Three years ago, I casually created an Instagram alt account and followed my husband. On that account, we talked about everything. The weather. Our day. Work. Whatever was bothering us. We could talk for hours. But on my main account, and even in real life, we barely exchanged ten sentences in an entire year. I always thought it was just our little secret. A private game between husband and wife that neither of us needed to acknowledge out loud. And honestly, I enjoyed it. Then, just before our third wedding anniversary, a new message popped up on my second account. ‘I’m divorcing Joanna Simpson.’ ‘Jess, I want to be with you.’ That was the moment I finally realized the truth. My husband had never known that the woman behind that account... was me.

My girlfriend, Piper Wolfe, and her childhood best friend, Cole Carter, could physically feel each other's pain and sensations—or so she claimed. We were in the middle of a heavy make-out session when she suddenly shoved my shoulders, almost throwing me off the bed, and pulled out her phone to dial Cole. "Cole! It’s ten at night, why are you chugging ice-cold beer? If you don’t care about your stomach, at least think about mine!" Cole’s voice muffled through the speaker. "You don’t get to judge me! Tell your boyfriend to go easy on the kissing. My lips are burning! If you keep this up, I’m just gonna find someone else to kiss!" Piper’s chest heaved. Her voice spiked with panic. "Don't you dare!" By the time she hung up, they had made a pact: as long as she kept her hands off me, Cole promised not to hook up with random girls. She turned back to me, her eyes wide and pleading. "Finn, please. I can't stand the feeling of another girl touching and kissing me by proxy. You understand, right?" I loved Piper way too much. My stomach sank, but I gave in. As long as our love was real, a platonic relationship wouldn’t hurt me. Until I caught them together. Piper had Cole pinned against the wall, their lips locked in a deep, rough kiss that left his lips swollen. "I don't care how many boyfriends you date," Cole murmured against Piper’s skin, breathless, "You're only touching me." Piper laughed, running her fingers through his hair. "Relax. You're the only one who actually turns me on." Cole smirked, wiping his lips. "Still, out of all the guys you've dated, this current one takes the crown for idiot of the year. You told him we shared physical sensations and he actually bought it?" "Hey, don't ruin a good thing." Piper giggled. "You better make sure I don't lose him. He's way too convenient." A sharp, violent ringing filled my ears while my mind went blank. I was paralyzed by the horrific realization that my entire relationship was just a joke to them. What neither of them realized, though, was that I was the kind of guy every girl secretly craved, and starting today, I was done being played.

Five years ago, I catch my husband, Henry Lancaster, cheating on me. He's a college professor, and the other woman is his teaching assistant, Vera Ashmore. Henry begs me not to go public, saying it'll ruin her reputation. I agree, but only if she drops out of school, leaves the city, never comes back, and signs a binding agreement. Everyone around me calls me vain, saying I care more about money than feelings. And yet Henry is willing to turn on his entire family just to protect her name. Five years later, I travel to that same city on a business trip to attend a lecture and end up finding a little boy wandering by himself. I take him to the police station so he can get in touch with his family. The officer dials the number the boy recites from memory, and a familiar voice comes through the line, "Hey, it's okay, don't be scared. Daddy's coming to get you right now." Less than half an hour later, Henry, who's supposed to be teaching classes a thousand miles away, rushes through the station doors. I'm sitting on a bench when our eyes lock, and he freezes on the spot. I smile and rise to my feet. "Henry, I had no idea you had a secret son behind my back this whole time. Looks like that spotless professor image of yours isn't going to last much longer."

While working overtime late into the night, I suddenly received a video from my wife. "Honey, there's a homeless man outside our door. I'm so scared!" In the video, a disheveled man was sitting outside my house. He occasionally muttered strange, unintelligible words. I immediately got permission to leave work and drove home, but on the way back, I got into a car accident. Only after I died did I learn the truth. It was a prank that had gone viral online. The footage of the homeless man had been generated using AI. What I never expected was that my wife's male best friend had taught her how to pull it off. They had even tampered with my car's brakes in advance. Worse still, the two of them had tampered with my car's brakes beforehand. After my death, they even went live and tearfully blamed the AI prank for killing me. Countless viewers sympathized with my wife, allowing the two of them to make a fortune from the livestream. Seeing how deep my resentment ran, the Grim Reaper gave me a chance to start over. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day my wife sent me that video.

At the bachelor party, someone suggests playing a game of "Of Course". Whatever we're asked, that's the answer we have to give. Rowena Jennings' childhood friend, Lucas Foster, takes the first shot at me. "You're always snooping through your girlfriend's phone, aren't you?" Before I can react, Rowena cuts in, "Of course. Why else would he keep checking on me until the wee hours of the morning?" Everyone cracks up, and her best friend turns to me next. "Do you always have to make a big deal out of nothing?" "Of course," Rowena answers for me. "How else would he make himself look unreasonable and get himself some attention?" The laughter grows louder. Her cousin, Amelia Jennings, joins in, "You get all teary-eyed over a little criticism, don't you?" "Of course. How else would he guilt me into feeling sorry for him?" Rowena replies. My palm is slick with sweat as I tighten my grip on my glass. When my turn comes, I look Rowena in the eye. "You're… pretty good at pretending to be in love, aren't you?" "Of course." She doesn't even blink. "How else would I trick you into marrying me?" The room goes quiet for a second before everyone erupts into laughter. My nails dig into my palm as I turn to Lucas. "Do you have feelings for her?" "Of course. Did you think I was into you instead?" he said. Everyone's laughing, and no one seems to think there's anything wrong with this. I force myself to hold it together as I head to the restroom. On my way back, I overhear them talking. "Forget about him. He'll put up with anything as long as he gets to marry Rowena." I turn to leave, tossing the wedding invitations into the trash. Since none of them can wish me well, there's no reason to go through with this marriage.

Six years into our long-distance relationship, I tell my girlfriend, Claire Whitmore, that I'm too busy with work to spend her birthday with her. Behind her back, I secretly take the property deed with me and board a ten-hour flight to her city. I want to propose to her in front of all our friends and surprise her. While waiting for my ride, I use my work phone to reply to a few messages, then casually scroll through my social media feed. The first post I see is from my childhood friend, Ryan Cole. "I'm going to be a godfather! My goddaughter is 8.5 pounds. I'm so happy!" I open the photo and see Claire and Damian Pierce posing together, a baby between them. My mind goes completely blank. I scroll through Ryan's other posts and discover that they're all about Claire and Damian's life together. Every moment from the past six years has been documented, from when they first met and fell in love to their marriage and the birth of their child. In their wedding group photo, I even spot several of my closest friends. My heart sinks. They all know about this. I'm the only one who's been kept in the dark for six years.

How terrifying is a man who's a simp and knows that he's one? In three years of dating, I've transferred six million dollars to my girlfriend, Nadine Stark. I made sure every transaction was labeled as a willing gift. I know she only sees me as her personal ATM, but I still go along with it. We break up over something ridiculous. I'm a little late in transferring money to her once, and she screams at me to get lost over and over again. So I do. That's when Nadine loses it. She starts stalking and harassing me, and she spreads rumors about me. She claims I have an STD, that I've stolen her gold necklace worth 150 thousand dollars, and that I've abused her cat to death. In the end, I lose all hope in her and switch to being a simp for someone else instead. But she's still not okay with that. Nadine actually drops to her knees before me to apologize and slaps herself across the face. She breaks down in tears and begs me to take her back. She wants me to love her again.

My gastritis medication fell out of my bag during my engagement party. My best friend, Celeste Sims, frowned and said, "Didn't I tell you not to take birth control pills? They’re bad for your health!" I shook my head weakly. "Birth control pills? You're mistaken, Celeste. This is my gastritis medication. I’ve never used—" Before I could finish my sentence, I was suddenly reminded that my fiancé, Justin Ludwig, always gave this medicine to his friend, Callie Fuller. After looking everywhere for Justin, I heard him and Callie having 'fun' in the storeroom upstairs. I did not make a fuss as I quietly turned on the recently repaired security camera in the storeroom.

Cole Sullivan's intermittent amnesia has lasted for three years. Every so often, he'll forget me and fall hopelessly in love with my younger sister, Roselle White. The night before our wedding, he loses his memory again. I sit right beside his hospital bed, yet his eyes pass over me as if I weren't there and land once again on Roselle. Mom and Dad have long since gotten used to smoothing things over. "Rach, you know about Cole's condition. Don't take it personally." I make an excuse to leave. Halfway down the hall, I realize I've forgotten my phone. I've just reached the door when I hear my family laughing and talking inside the room. "So, Cole, how do you plan to tell Rachel about your wedding with Roselle?" Mom asks. "I'll book her a trip around Eurora. By the time she gets back, everything will be settled," Cole answers. "And when you do 'marry' Rachel, we can give her a fake marriage certificate to fool her for a while," Dad adds with a laugh. Roselle sounds hesitant. "What if Rach finds out?" "Then, she finds out," Cole says indifferently. "Saves us the trouble of coming up with more lies, anyway." I stand outside the door, my fingertips turning cold. It turns out his so-called intermittent amnesia in the last three years has been a mere performance, written and directed for me alone to watch. I sink to the floor and slowly pull off the glaring engagement ring I've been wearing, then toss it into the trash can in the hallway. Since no one here truly cares about me, I'll give them exactly what they want and disappear from their lives for good.

In our third year of marriage, my wife's kept boy toy decided he wanted to break up with her. He left her nothing but a long, dramatic message and blocked her on every platform before she could respond. [You can't give me what I actually want. I don't want to keep dragging this out with you.] I watched my wife's romantic drama play out with a cold, distant expression. After three years of them breaking up and getting back together more times than I could count, I figured this was nothing new. I expected Elena Sheridan to rush straight to coax him back like always. But this time, she was ice cold about it. "He was just a plaything I kept around for amusement. Now he thinks he can threaten me with a breakup? I’ve clearly indulged him too much." But a month later, the news broke online. He'd jumped from a building. The woman who had always been cold and unfeeling completely fell apart.

My husband, Nathan Sidney, is the top doctor in the municipal hospital. However, he refuses to treat my stepsister, Jessica Jepson. He tells me that it's because Jessica's mother, Janice Ferguson, is Dad's mistress, which makes Jessica a mistress' daughter. They don't deserve to be treated by him because they're the ones responsible for tearing my family apart. During a family get-together, we play the "Have You or Haven't You" game. When it's my turn, I confidently say, "I've been treated by Nathan. You haven't." Jessica smiles and pulls out a medical report from her pocket. "Sorry, Cassie. You've lost." Nathan's signature is penned on the report. As I clutch the medical report, I ask hoarsely, "When did this happen?" "Last Wednesday," Nathan replies. "She cut her hand. I can't just ignore her when she's bleeding right in front of me." He smiles and ruffles my hair, saying, "I'm a doctor. I can't ignore a patient. You're so kind, Cassandra. You understand why I had to treat her, right?" In the past, when Jessica secretly tried on my wedding dress, Nathan said that she just liked feeling pretty. When she pawned off the gold bracelet Mom left me, he said she was just greedy, while wiring me money as compensation. I was hospitalized for two weeks after accidentally drinking white wine instead of water because the doctors were trying to protect the pregnancy. When I tell Nathan that Jessica's the one who mixed up the drinks, he says, "She's just a little stupid. You're so kind, Cassandra. You understand that she just made an honest mistake, right?" Today, Nathan has not only broken his promise, but he's also trying to emotionally blackmail me. I simply smile and softly say, "I don't want to understand. I'm done being understanding, Nathan Sidney."

After losing his entire retirement savings to a scam, my father-in-law, Kyle Knight, tried to kill himself by overdosing on pills. I frantically called my husband, Joshua Knight, a psychology expert, hoping he could talk his father out of it. "Dad lost his entire retirement fund to a scam. He left a suicide note, and he's trying to kill himself. Come home!" Instead, Joshua snapped at me for making such a big deal out of it. "Your dad's made plenty of bad decisions before. Maybe this'll finally teach him a lesson. Don't bother me with stupid stuff like this again. I'm trying to watch a movie with Vanessa." For a second, I thought he hadn't heard me clearly. I was about to tell him that the man dying was his own father. Then Vanessa Morgan's voice came through the phone. The horror movie scared her. Joshua immediately turned to comfort her. Later, he casually told me to put together a PowerPoint on how my dad got scammed so he could use the case in one of his anti-scam livestreams. I swallowed everything I was about to say and obediently said, "Okay." After all, the person who scammed Kyle out of his retirement savings and drove him to suicide was Vanessa's mother.