Plot Twists Romance Short Stories & Face Slapping Novels

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 newlywed husband wants to kill me. He's backing me to the balcony with a knife in his hand. The blade pierces my heart, and he shoves me off a 20-story building. At the same time, I see the tear streaks on his face. He says, "Long time no see, my perfect lover."

Three days before my wedding, I find out that my fiancee, Ivy Carlton, has changed the wedding venue from my grandfather's home—that's located up in the south—to Jonah Jennings, her childhood friend's favorite castle in Staravia. When I'm about to confront her, I overhear her complaining to her friend, "Thank goodness Jon's a man with taste! Otherwise, everyone's going to make fun of me for the rest of my life!" Her friend asks, "Didn't you agree that you'd hold the wedding ceremony in Theo's grandpa's house? Aren't you worried that he might not marry you out of fury when he finds out?" Ivy chortles in response. "The Sterlings are on the verge of bankruptcy. Marrying me is Theo's only ticket out of poverty. He can't risk losing me at all. "I've already arranged for the wedding planner to call him and inform him about the change. He's most likely rushing to change his flight." Rage and resentment swell in my heart. I clench my fists tightly, but in the end, I turn on my heel and leave. Three days later, the wedding is held in the castle, just as Ivy has planned. I never changed my flight, nor did I show up at the castle. Instead, I choose to exchange rings with another woman in my grandpa's courtyard. Till now, Ivy still doesn't understand that I want to marry her because we've been dating for ten long years, not because I view her as a ticket out of poverty. But now that I've woken up from my dream woven of fantasies, it's time for me to make choice.

At my bachelor party the night before my wedding, my wedding ring starts talking to me. "In a few minutes, your childhood friend Christopher will hand you a hangover pill. Once you take it, you'll fall into a deep sleep and be taken into a private lounge. "He'll unlock your phone, take out a multi-million-dollar loan in your name, then hire escorts to stage a scandal that ruins your reputation." It goes on, "On your wedding day, your alleged sex scandal and crushing debt will be exposed. Your fiancee, Annabelle, will call off the wedding. "Your father, who rushes in from out of town, will die of a heart attack. Unable to bear the shock, your mother will jump to her death. "Debt collectors will hunt you down, and you'll contract a sexually transmitted disease. In the end, you'll die alone in a dumpster." That night's party was Christopher Larson's idea, and everyone here is a close friend or family member. I figure I'm just drunk and hearing things. But a second later, Christopher hands me a pink pill. "Take this hangover pill, Marvin. Big day tomorrow. You can't afford to mess it up," he says. He looks genuinely concerned, but my wedding ring suddenly heats up. "Don't trust him! Leave now, or you'll be completely ruined!" I sober up almost instantly and reach out to Christopher. "My phone's dead. May I borrow yours to make a call?" If he had already set a trap for me, there was no way he'd let me walk away. Then, I call my fiancee, Annabelle Sterling. She answers immediately, and her voice is tight with worry. "Chris?" Hearing her say his name like that makes my heart sink. "The wedding's tomorrow. Make sure you take good care of Marvin," says Annabelle. I let out a breath of relief, guilt creeping in. But my ring keeps getting hotter. A beat later, it says, "Annabelle is more than a month pregnant." I freeze in place as a chill runs down my spine.

Ten years of marriage, and my wife always insisted she was asexual. She never once let me touch her. Then, during a visit to her parents—who had been pressing us about having a child—she suddenly started throwing up. She announced to everyone that the baby was mine, and told me flatly, "This child will be born as your son, whether you like it or not." So I smiled, encouraged her to keep the baby, and quietly signed the divorce papers.

Vanessa Langley lay on my operating table, pregnant for the eighth time by the man she'd grown up with. This time, I didn't break down the way I had the previous seven. Instead I calmly closed the incision and went over the aftercare with her. Seven times I'd performed the procedure on my own wife because she was carrying another man's child. I had long since become the joke of the hospital, the story everyone traded over coffee. From getting pregnant by him to pressuring me into ending it, she always had a reason she considered perfectly respectable. This time, Vanessa's eyes reddened and she caught my sleeve. "Adrian, someone drugged Damian. I couldn't just leave him... "Don't worry, I'll end the pregnancy. You're my husband. You're the only man I'd ever have a child with." Even the nurses talked during the procedure, wondering whether I'd fold the way I always had, worn down by a few soft words and a few tears. But nobody knew we'd signed an agreement before the wedding. I gave Vanessa eight chances to get it wrong, and she had used them all. The agreement took effect, and every asset in her name passed to me.

Tomorrow was supposed to be my engagement party with my fiance, Jason Miller. To surprise him, I flew back a day earlier after spending three long years studying abroad in London. The moment my plane landed, I called him. But he just laughed and casually dropped a bombshell. He had lost a high-stakes poker game, and he had just wagered me off to his friend as a free maid for a month. Before I could even speak, my phone lit up with a notification. He had added me to his wealthy inner-circle group chat. The title was vicious. [Congrats to Marcus on his new ugly maid!] Jason dropped a photo of me, from before I left the country, into the chat. In the picture, my skin was broken out, my hair was a wild mess, and I had severe buckteeth that made me look completely awkward. The group chat exploded. "Holy crap, Jason! You're brutal! She looks frightening!" "A bet's a bet, Marcus! You gotta bring the monster to the yacht party tomorrow!" Someone immediately set up a poll, betting cash on whether I would actually have the nerve to show up in a swimsuit. Jason instantly dropped ten grand on the poll, betting I would hide in embarrassment. "Sorry to ruin your eyes, bro," he texted the group. "Just think of her as a free circus act." I stared at the screen, a cold smile touching my lips. He never bothered to call me while I was away. He had no idea I spent the last three years in Europe undergoing three hundred thousand dollars' worth of top-tier facial reconstruction and styling. He had no idea that a single unedited photo of my face was now pulling hundreds of thousands of followers online. They wanted a show? Tomorrow on that yacht, I would give them one.

Ten years of devotion. Ten years of playing the "perfect" wife. All for a lie. I spent a decade as a ghost in my own home, scrubbing floors for a husband who never loved me and raising children who treated me like the help. But when I discover the ultimate betrayal—a forged marriage certificate and a plot that murdered my parents—my heart finally shatters. Trying to confront the people who betrayed me, I was murdered. But instead of dying, I wake up to the past. It’s June 14th. The morning of my wedding. My parents are still alive, my "loving" fiancé is downstairs plotting his first theft, and my twin sister is hiding her evil thoughts behind her innocent smile. I have less than 24 hours before the "I do" that ruined my life. Less than 24 hours to move millions in assets, stop a fatal car crash, and expose the affairs.

At the medical summit, my husband's precious first love thought the old professor's clothes were too shabby for such a grand occasion. So she dropped his conference badge into the trash. The old man shook with fury and threatened to pull his company's partnership with us on the spot. In my last life, I slapped her across the face right there, then bowed and scraped until the professor forgave us, and that was the only thing that saved our company. My husband, meanwhile, was heartbroken that his darling had been hit, and took her home to comfort her. Later, our company rode the professor's patented miracle drug all the way to its IPO. On the day of the celebration, indecent videos made with my face swapped via AI rolled continuously across the giant screen. And in front of a hall full of sneering guests, my husband pulled his first love tight against his chest. "You love slapping people in public, don't you? Today you get to taste what it feels like to be finished." I ran out of the hotel, sick with shame, and a runaway truck flattened me into the pavement. Then he turned around, threw the wedding of the century for his golden girl, and drove my parents into the street to die alone in the cold. When I opened my eyes again, I was back in the exact second she tossed that badge into the trash. This time, I didn't fly into a rage to stop her. Instead I curled my arm sweetly through my husband's and laughed louder than anyone in the room. "Babe, Tiffany's got such a sharp eye. Security should've thrown this ragged beggar out ages ago."

The day my husband, Leon Ford, won Best Actor, a video smearing me went viral. In the video, my sister, Lucy Carter, tearfully accused me of using my position as Leon's manager to break them up. She claimed I'd threatened to ruin his career and forced him to marry me, a 250-pound woman. Leon liked the video the moment it went up, making it look like he was backing Lucy's story. Within minutes, the entire internet had turned against me. "She used her power to pressure an actor into marrying her? Someone like that should be blacklisted!" "God, she stole her own sister's boyfriend! What a vicious woman. Leon must've been miserable waking up to that disgusting fat pig every day!" "I hope Leon and Lucy finally get to be happy. That damned woman can go to hell!" What no one knew was how much I'd sacrificed for Leon over the years. I'd found investors for him and spent countless nights drinking with clients until I ended up in the ICU with a perforated stomach. I'd even been injured protecting him from a hater. The medication I needed afterward made my weight spiral out of control. Back then, Leon had sworn he'd never be ashamed of me. He called me his only treasure and chose to marry me of his own free will. I believed him. Despite what the medication had done to my body, I kept working tirelessly for him until he finally won Best Actor. But now that he'd made it to the top, all I got in return was a public smear campaign and divorce papers. Just when I had nowhere left to turn and despair was closing in, I received a text from Stephen Moretti, the mafia Don. "Want revenge? Lose weight and I'll make you a queen."

After my miscarriage, the doctor told me I would never be able to have children again. Not long after, my husband brought home a boy from an orphanage. Still devastated by the loss of my baby, I poured everything I had into raising him as my own son. I quit my high-paying job and devoted myself to him completely. I pushed him all the way into a top university, while years of neglecting my own health left me riddled with illness. On the day of the celebration dinner for his college admission, he pulled out my oxygen line. Only then did I learn the truth. The boy I'd raised as my own was actually my husband's son with his secretary, the woman he'd been having an affair with. When I opened my eyes again, I had gone back in time to the day my husband first brought him home. "Honey, this boy came into our lives for a reason. Make sure you take good care of him." I smiled and agreed. "Don't worry, honey. I'll raise him just like my own son." So he wanted me to raise his love child for him? Fine. This time, I'd spoil him so rotten he grew into an absolute monster.

After my 99th confession, my childhood best friend, Michael Leight, finally says yes. I am overjoyed, believing that my years of unrequited love have finally paid off. But when I walk past the pantry, I overhear him speaking tenderly to our family chef, Tahlia Duvey. "Once I take everything from the Kingstons, I'll kick that idiot Ariel to the curb and throw us a grand wedding. Everything here will be yours." My heart feels like a sword has been plunged into it. That night, I storm into Grandpa's study and point at a photo of the Gordon family's heir—Charles, known for always keeping his distance from women. "Grandpa! I want to marry him!" I announce.

After being reborn, I secretly switch the man I want to marry the most to the useless scion who loves flirting with me that lives next door. My dad, who's a high-ranking military colonel, is quite surprised by my choice, but he respects my wishes. In my past life, when Dad asked who I liked the most in the entire neighborhood, I had written down Damian Conrad's name. He nodded and told me, "This man has contributed greatly to the country despite only joining the army for three years. His future will definitely be a bright one. "A man as just and fair as him will undoubtedly be a good man who takes good care of his family and stays devoted to them." Dad immediately arranged for the two families to meet. Everyone thought that it was a rare and fated union. Our wedding was very grand and high-profile. Most of the people living in the military base came over to celebrate our wedding. But Damian set off for the frontier half a year after our marriage, with the excuse of wanting to contribute to the country. Not only did he leave me behind to take care of my in-laws on my own, but he also cut off all contact with me when Dad was severely ill. When I was finally done dealing with Dad's funeral matters, all I received was the bad news of Damian's death at the frontier. Crushed by the devastation and despair of the news, I fell into severe depression. Soon, I took my own life by jumping off the building. After my death, my soul refused to fade away at all. 40 years later, an elderly man and woman with graying hair showed up before my grave. With an arm around Heidi Myers' waist, Damian paid his respects to me at my grave. "It's my fault for lying to you back then, Carla. But Heidi doesn't have much time to live, so I can resort to desperate measures. Please let everything go and stop pestering her, Carla. If you really are resentful, feel free to come at me instead." It turns out that Damian loved Heidi this much that he was willing to fake his death just to trick me. But at the same time, they were so superstitious that they thought I was the one pestering Heidi, causing her to be afflicted with a terminal cancer. Now that I found out about the truth, I finally let my obsession go. When I open my eyes again, I realize I've returned to the day Dad asks me who I want to marry the most.

Ryan Becker's favorite phrase was always, "Just wait a little longer." I waited two years for his startup to stabilize so we could get married. I waited another three years for his mother to warm up to the idea of a wedding. On the night of his 30th birthday dinner, his mother slipped her emerald bracelet off her wrist in front of everyone. Passing down the heirloom was their old tradition for recognizing a daughter-in-law. I thought that this time, finally, I wouldn't have to wait anymore. "Give me your hand, dear." Yet Aurelie Becker reached right past me and smoothly fastened the bracelet around Sabine Hansen's wrist instead. The entire room fell dead silent. She patted the back of Sabine's hand warmly. "Sabine grew up with Ryan. We're all one family here, no distinctions between us." My hands were still resting on the table, my fingertips turning cold. Someone whispered, "What about Miss Solis?" Ryan leaned in close, lowering his voice. "My mom is just being sentimental. Don't take it to heart. I'll bring you a custom necklace from my business trip next month. Just wait a little longer, okay?" Sabine lifted her wrist, flaunting it right in front of my face with a provocative smile. "Look, Eliza, isn't it beautiful? Aurelie says it's an old-mine emerald." "It's beautiful," I said simply. Just then, the phone inside my bag vibrated. It was a text message that read: [Have you made up your mind? When are you coming to Phaelis?]

On our fifth dating anniversary, my boyfriend, Luke Bolton, gives me a cheap bracelet worth less than a hundred dollars. On the same night, he splurges ten million dollars on a yacht for his first love, Cindy Gale. I refuse to accept this, and he accuses me of making a scene. "I gave Cindy that gift to boost the company's stock price, not because I still have feelings for her," he says. "You're poor, and I still promised to marry you. Isn't that enough? This was actually your last test, Elisa Gray, but you failed it." I break up with him, and he immediately proposes to Cindy. Five years after that, we meet again at a luxury hotel during a business summit. His company is about to become an industry giant, and Cindy is holding onto his arm. When he sees me, I'm standing in a fountain, all drenched and disheveled. "Elisa," Luke sneers. "When you turned me down back then, did it ever cross your mind that you might end up worse than a homeless person? "Don't think acting pitiful here will make me feel sorry and take you back." I ignore him. My son's cherished blue diamond was a birthday gift from his father, and he accidentally dropped it into the fountain. He's so upset that he's about to cry, and I have to find it right away.

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.]

On my first day after being appointed President of the Castellano Group, I had just reached the main entrance of the company headquarters when a female employee stopped me. “Only senior management is allowed through this entrance. Janitorial staff must use the side entrance.” I frowned slightly. “I’m not janitorial staff.” Instead of backing down, she took the senior employee ID badge from her chest and waved it in front of me with a mocking smile. “Not janitorial staff?” “Then you’re an intern?” “Interns have to use the side entrance too! This has been a long-standing rule of our company!” “If you can’t even follow such a basic rule, pack your things and get out right now!” I glanced at the ID badge in her hand. Executive Assistant? Wasn’t she my fiancé, Damian Castellano’s, personal assistant? I immediately called Damian to confront him, only to hear his indulgent chuckle from the other end. “That little wildcat has quite the temper.” “Forget it. Using the side entrance won’t hurt you. Just let her have her way.” “Otherwise, how is she supposed to hold her head up at the company from now on?” With that, he hung up. The female assistant lifted her chin and sneered. “What are you pretending for? Hurry up and move!” “Senior executives will be coming through this entrance later. Don’t get their expensive shoes dirty!” I was so angry that I laughed. I pushed her aside, used my own authorization to unlock the main entrance, and walked inside without a hint of urgency. If the company’s old rules had already rotted to this point, then today, I would be the one to rewrite them.

Three years after my death, Selina Wendell is finally getting married again. I sit in the very last row of the wedding venue, watching from a distance as she slips a ring onto Zachary Smith's finger. The officiant smiles and asks, "Ms. Wendell, who are you most grateful to in this life?" Selina tightens her grip on Zachary's hand before answering without hesitation. "That would be my husband."

The night my boyfriend and I celebrate our first anniversary, we get into an accident. My soul travels through time and ends up ten years in the future. Here, I see that my boyfriend and I have married and started a family. It's the future I've dreamed of. However, it seems that I'm out of a job, and I've given up on my dream. I struggle to make it through endless days of my boyfriend's ice-cold treatment. Ultimately, I see myself sitting on the edge of a building's roof after falling deep into postpartum depression. When I open my eyes again, I see my boyfriend's panicked face…

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?