Feel-Good Story Romance Short Stories & Face Slapping Novels

On the day I was supposed to marry the man I loved, I found him in bed with my best friend. Before I could expose their betrayal, they revealed a horrifying truth. My best friend had introduced us, planned our relationship, and spent years helping him gain my trust. Their goal was simple—marry me, steal my inheritance, and get rid of me. Then they left me bleeding on the floor to die. As darkness swallowed me, I swore that if I ever got a second chance, I would make them pay for everything they had done. When I opened my eyes again, I was reborn back to one month before it all started. This time, I know every lie, I know every betrayal, and I know exactly who murdered me. Now it’s their turn to lose everything.

My girlfriend, Eleanor Reed, tells me that her ex's father and grandfather have sadly passed away, so out of concern for her ex's mental health, she wants to be there for him. Meanwhile, her father, who's still bedridden at the hospital, becomes my responsibility. She tells me to take this opportunity to get on his good side so that I can win his approval sooner. After hearing that, I find myself admiring her relationship with her ex. Therefore, I decide to be her ex as well.

Nicholas Jordan, my fiance, throws a bachelor party three days before our wedding. It is then that his best friend, Clara Gunter, rushes over in a panic, yelling, "You can't marry her, Nicholas!" The people around Nicholas look completely confused. Clara gasps for air before snatching Nicholas' glass and downing its contents. "You said your fiancee has a mysterious background, but I asked my uncle to look into her, and I found out she's a gold digger who cons people into marriage! She has been married thrice and has slept with three other people. "You'd better not behave like a fool and take responsibility for someone else's discarded baggage, Nicholas!" Nicholas' expression shifts for a split second, but he still tries to defend me. "There are so many people with the same name, so it's definitely not my Lillian!" Clara pulls him close against her chest and asks coldly, "Has she brainwashed you? There are only two people by the name of Lillian Naughton around here—one is a gold digger, and the other is the billionaire heiress of the Naughton family. "Do you really think your freeloading fiancee could possibly be the latter one?" I merely sneer at Clara's false accusations. From this moment on, nobody from Gunter Group is ever setting foot inside any retail counter owned by Naughton Group.

After Julian Hart and I got back together, I was the one who brought up getting engaged. He swore I was the only woman he'd ever love. I smiled and held out my hand, and a chime sounded in my head as the system deposited another $150,000 into my account. From that day on, I became his lowest-maintenance fiancée. I stopped asking why his notes app still had his ex-wife's period tracker. I never called out the hotel receipt from the "business trip" he'd lied about. Not even when Vanessa Lane posted the diamond ring he'd bought her, with the caption "My ex-husband still knows me best." Not even when he went over in the middle of the night to fix her pipes and stayed out until morning, or when he bought two sets of Valentine's gifts. Even when he told me marrying me was his greatest dream, his eyes sliding away as he said it, I could still smile sweetly and play along. "I know. You love me most." It wasn't that I was dying to marry him. It was that the system's rewards had a clear price tag. Every lie he told me put more money in my account. I'm not stupid. If I was going to let him lie to me this long, I might as well get something out of it.

Today was my younger son, Luke's, eighteenth birthday. My ex-husband, Major General Arthur Ashford, let himself into my house without knocking. He headed straight for the liquor cabinet like he still owned the place. He poured himself a glass of whiskey and looked at me with open contempt. "Allison, how have you enjoyed the last eight years? Stuck here in Briarwood because of a family court order. "All because I broke a couple of glasses and put my hands on you a few times, you just had to file for divorce." "And what did that get you? The judge stopped you from taking the kids out of the city and made sure I got regular visitation." He swirled the whiskey in his glass, spilling a little onto the carpet. It was the same cocky look he wore the night he came home drunk and beat me with his belt. "You really thought you could get away from me? As long as I say no, you'll spend the rest of your life under my control. "After Luke cuts his cake, I am filing for emergency guardianship. You will never take my son away from me." I looked at his smug face, gripping the edge of my sleeve, and said nothing. Then he lifted his glass, ready to start barking orders at everyone. My daughter, Kate, rose from her chair and set a thick stack of papers onto the table in front of him. "General Ashford, you should read these. "As of midnight, Luke is legally an adult. Every travel restriction the family court placed on Mom is gone. "And this is the filing receipt for the name change petition for the two of us, which I filed with the Supreme Court." Arthur gave the papers a dismissive glance. Then his smile disappeared. Printed across the top in bold letters were the words: Petitions of Kate Ashford and Luke Ashford to Change Their Surname to Pierce.

The villagers raised me as a child. So, when I became successful, I initiated a development plan for the village to repay their kindness. However, because of forced evictions, the village chief’s family, who were the kindest to me, four villagers, and two youngsters died miserably under the excavator’s shovel. I gave away every penny I had, knelt in the rubble to beg forgiveness, and was beaten bloody by the enraged villagers. I was left disfigured, crippled, and eventually thrown in prison for ten years. After I came out of prison, I went to a faraway place, changed my name, and worked on a construction site. I planned to just drift through the rest of my miserable life in obscurity. However, my ex-wife and daughter tracked me down. “Max, why didn’t you tell me when you got out? That whole thing has passed now. Weylon has built a great career. He can get you a decent job. “Come home. Our daughter and I miss you.” Our daughter, Josie, glared at me with grievance. “Who misses this murderer? He’s the reason I can’t hold my head up. Everywhere I go, people curse me. I don’t want a beast like him for a father. “Mom, you and Uncle Weylon are all the family I need…” I caressed the scar on my face, looked at my crippled right leg, and felt my numb heart ache once more. Back then, the person who skimmed the compensation money, forced the evictions, and caused those deaths was Weylon, my ex-wife’s foster brother. To protect him, she had threatened me with our daughter’s life and made me take the fall. At that moment, she was standing before me, offering charity from on high.

While cleaning the house, I noticed my box of new razor blades had been opened. Without hesitation, I had my lawyer draft a divorce agreement and send it to my wife, Rachel Jackman. She called me right away. "Are you kicking up a fuss again? What is it this time?" I fought to keep my emotions under control and said, "One of the razor blades in the drawer is missing."

On the day my father died, his seven most trusted men all met violent deaths within the same twenty-four hours. Hugh Castillo sacrificed his legs to butcher the gang and put me in power. “Taz, don’t be scared. Those monsters are gone. You’re finally free.” In the years he lay paralyzed, I tried over a thousand experimental drugs and prayed at every church across the country. I hunted down every possible remedy, praying for just one that would bring him back to his feet. When Hugh learned of this, he swallowed a bottle of pills one night to end his life. After he was revived, he smiled and wiped the tears from my face. “Taz, I don’t want to be a dead weight. You deserve a better life than this.” That night, we held each other and wept. We swore that from then on, no matter what, we would never leave each other behind. But seven years later, a sweet-looking girl showed up at my door with a thousand photos I was never meant to see. “Every month, while you were praying to God in churches, Huey was busy trying out new positions with me. “Ms. Sheargold, don’t you know that used goods like you kill a man’s desire? It was no wonder he’d rather play the cripple than touch you.” I looked through every single photo, then put them up for auction underground.

Right before the wedding, my fiancé asked to postpone it by seven days. All because he wanted to spend time with his childhood sweetheart, who was terminally ill. "This week I am completely free. I want to be with Lily and help her fulfill her last wish." I asked, somewhat taken aback: "Tomorrow is our wedding. Are you trying to humiliate me?" Alexander's eyes darted away, but his tone was firm. "Lily has only a month left to live. I owe her a love story worth remembering." I didn't agree, but Alexander left anyway. The wedding was postponed at the last minute. [Joanna, we won't cross the line. I will give you a grand wedding.] Every day after that, Alexander sent me updates on his itinerary. On the first day, they took my wedding photographer and went to shoot their own wedding photos. On the second day, he gave the custom wedding jewelry to Lily. But by the third day, Lily sent over a video. Alexander was drunk, and they were pressed close together. Lily stared into the camera, her eyes full of defiance. "So what if he finds out I was faking my illness? He still chose me over you — just to fulfill my wish." I laughed. The only reason he succeeded was because of my unique business acumen and instincts. And now, sixty percent of the company's shares are registered under my name. Once he loses me, everything he has will turn to dust.

After seven years of running a noodle shop near her university so I could support my girlfriend through graduate school, she finally earned her doctorate. It was her birthday. I closed the shop early to prepare a proposal, only to see her walk into the restaurant next door with a group of friends. Then my phone buzzed. "I have research tonight. I'll be home late, so go to bed without me." Something made me follow her inside. She was seated at the center of the group while everyone laughed and celebrated her birthday. I smiled and started toward her. Then the man beside my girlfriend stood, dropped to one knee, and held out a diamond ring. It was much larger than mine. "Nat, today is also our third anniversary. You've done so much for me over these three years, and I'm truly grateful. "You knew I had no money, so you quietly sent me eight hundred dollars every month. You knew I was proud, so you found me a part-time job instead of calling it charity. "My laptop, tablet, and every other device I own came from you. "Nat, I love you. Will you marry me?" Every drop of blood in my body seemed to freeze. I gave my girlfriend eight hundred dollars every month for living expenses. I had bought every one of her electronic devices, too, but each one somehow disappeared soon afterward. I had only smiled, told her it was fine, and bought another. When I learned that her classmate was struggling financially, I hired him at my shop without hesitation and paid him another eight hundred dollars a month. So that was the truth. All these years, I had not been supporting one graduate student. I had been supporting my girlfriend and her boyfriend.

After my husband cheated on me for the 99th time, I finally completed my collection of 99 Hermes bags. That was just his way of compensating for his guilt. I was a high school advisory teacher, working from 8 a.m. to 4 p.m. every day. After going home, I took care of his parents, who were both paralyzed and bedridden. To outsiders, I was a perfect wife. He figured he could keep me in the dark for the rest of his life. Little did he know, the mistresses he chased for a thrill were all arranged by me.

When my fiance, Kai Vaughn, and my best friend, Eliana Sinclair, drug me and drag me into the penthouse suite of the richest man in the capital, I breathe a sigh of relief. "At long last, I'm home." Kai assumes I've lost my mind under the threat of impending doom and viciously grips my chin. "Our company's survival depends on this project, you bitch! I hear there's a woman Mr. Harlan has never gotten over, even after all these years, and your face just happens to look a little like hers. "You'd better serve him well. Once we secure the project, I might even be generous enough to give you some money!" Eliana covers her mouth and giggles beside him. "That's right. You should thank your lucky stars that you get to serve Mr. Harlan. Don't be ungrateful!" When the drug takes effect, I'm violently shoved through the gilded doors. No one notices that as I lean back against the leather couch, my eyes are filled with mockery. The ruthless, cold-blooded Mr. Harlan Kai and Eliana are talking about—the man who treats his substitute lovers as nothing more than playthings—is actually my biological father, Tristan Harlan. Today, they've personally delivered me right back to Dad's side. Tomorrow, they'll learn what it means to live a life worse than death.

I go deaf in an attempt to save James Duncan. He falls to his knees before my parents and begs them to let me marry him. He says he'll care for me for life. He finally passes his five-year test, but he sleeps with his lover before our wedding. He does it before my very eyes. He clamps a hand over her mouth and says, "Be quiet. Don't wake Layla up." His lover giggles and nibbles on his palm. "What's there to be afraid of? She's deaf; she can't hear us." James doesn't know that I've already regained my hearing. He and his lover are also unaware that their behavior is being livestreamed.

Marcus Dawson put a price on everything. If he decided something wasn't worth the money, he refused to pay for it. I had broken my right leg saving his life. Even then, he refused to buy me the custom orthopedic brace that would protect my healing leg. "You won't need a brace for that long. It's such a waste of money." "Be reasonable, Ren. I'll get you the best crutches instead. Walking more will help you recover, and they won't cost nearly as much." I was quiet for a long moment. Then I whispered, "Okay." But minutes earlier, I'd seen a new Facebook post from my best friend, Jessica Vance: a five-thousand-dollar designer handbag with one breezy word in the caption. "Surprise." The hand holding the bag was blurred, but I would have known the fresh scar on that forearm anywhere. Marcus had gotten it in a car accident only weeks ago. It was Marcus. A five-thousand-dollar brace was a waste. A five-thousand-dollar bag was a surprise. The same number was excessive when it was spent on me and romantic when it was spent on her. I'd always assumed he was just being frugal. Now I realized he'd done the math a long time ago. My leg wasn't worth five thousand dollars. And neither was I. I pulled out my phone and dialed a number I hadn't called in a long time. "Nathan, I want to come home."

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!]

Ethan Caldwell came back to our village for the Harvest Festival, bringing his fiancée from the city. Everyone in the village said he was born lucky. He'd been kidnapped as a child and later found by wealthy relatives, and now he was a man of standing. When he saw me under the old locust tree, he paused for just a second. "Nora? You're still not married?" His fiancée immediately tightened her grip on his arm, smiling sweetly. "Ethan, who's this?" Ethan answered coolly. "Just a neighbor from when I was a kid." I froze for a second and almost laughed out loud. Back then, the traffickers had dumped him in a ravine in the hills, and I followed the sound of his crying until I found him. To lead those men away, I rolled down a slope and broke my left leg. When he woke up, all he remembered was a little girl who'd given him half a honey cake. He never knew that girl had been left disabled for life. I did try to explain, later. He said, "Chloe's too kind to lie. Nora, don't try to take credit for something like this just to get close to me." During the harvest bonfire, he hung the silver pendant his fiancée had given him on the old locust tree, saying it was to thank the girl who'd saved his life all those years ago. My dad stood at the back of the crowd, his eyes wet. "Nora, do you want me to go talk to him?" I watched Ethan gently drape his jacket over someone else's shoulders, and suddenly, I let it all go. "No need. "He's looking for the girl who saved him. Not me."

I endured hundreds of injections just to give Stanley Brighton a child. He was moved to tears and held me, promising that even if we couldn't have children, he would love only me. I diligently followed the doctor's advice and underwent treatment. The day I confirmed my pregnancy, I was so excited that I wanted to rush home and share the good news with Stanley. But what awaited me was unimaginable. Stanley and the female tenant we shared the apartment with were lying naked together in the bathroom, sharing an intimate bath. He was behind her, holding her close, his lips incessantly biting at her earlobes. "I'll give you as many children as you want! Ten, eight—whatever it takes! Just divorce her!" "Alright, just give me some time. I'll divorce her for sure!" Hearing their whispered entanglement, I turned away, stepping into the rain, determined to leave. I would disappear to a place where Stanley could never find me, not in this lifetime.

My boyfriend got a tenure-track offer from Ashford University—and the night he found out, he cried in my arms for hours. Before he left the country, he held my hand, looking guilty. "Babe, the cost of living over there is insane, and you probably won't be able to find a decent job. Once I get settled, I'll bring you over in style…" He paused, waiting for me to appreciate how "considerate" he was being. What he didn't know was that just half an hour earlier, I'd overheard him on the balcony. "Don't worry, the tickets are booked. We're going together. No way I'm leaving you behind." On the other end of the line was his gentle, sweet junior. He'd spent years looking down on my education, always saying I couldn't understand his "soul." But every time I handed him my tips from waiting tables and delivering takeout—stained envelopes, greasy and crumpled—he'd take them like he was doing me a favor. What he also didn't know was that I'd long since gotten tired of playing the "I'll work to put you through school" bit. I only started dating him because he was cute—I wanted a little thrill. I just didn't expect to keep the act going for three years. And for a second here and there, I almost believed it myself. I was already looking for an excuse to dump him. Then he handed me one on a silver platter. So when he gave his little speech, I barely held back a smile as I fixed his collar. "Okay. Then take good care of yourself over there. I'm gonna be late for my night shift. Gotta go." I turned around and called my best friend. "Book me a table at VIVA tonight. I'm single again—time to party."

My wife, Anne Baker, wants to remain childfree, so I decide to get a vasectomy. But on our way home, she hands me an ultrasound scan. "I'm three months pregnant, and the baby isn't yours." I look at her in shock. She smiles and points at the BMW behind us. "I didn't want to tell you I had a one-night stand, but I accidentally got knocked up. An abortion is bad for my body, so I decided to keep the baby." I grip her hand tightly as I say furiously, "So you lied to me? You were lying about wanting to be childfree!" She leans in, kisses me, and speaks in a gentle yet cruel tone. "Honey, I just love my baby too much. Since you've lost your ability to have a kid now, this baby will be your only heir. We'll raise him together, okay?" Just then, someone steps out of the BMW that's been following us the whole way. When I roll down my window, I see a familiar man. It's James Litt, my good friend of eight years.

It's Family Day at my daughter, Hannah Neel's, preschool, but my wife, Samantha Miller, says she has to work and tells both Hannah and me not to go. Seeing the disappointment on Hannah's face breaks my heart, so I bring her to school anyway. As soon as we step through the gates, I see Samantha. She's holding her childhood friend—Oscar Barnett's—hand, with a little boy clutching her other. The three of them look like a perfect family, laughing and chatting, as if they belong together. When Samantha sees us, her smile fades, and she lets go of Oscar's hand. "Zach, it's not what you think. Oscar's raising his son alone. Today's his fifth birthday, and he just wanted to give him a little taste of a mother's love," she says quickly. I study her for a moment, then kneel and gently take Hannah's hand in mine. "Sweetheart, say hello to the lady."