Face Slapping Romance Short Stories & Novels

My twin sister Celeste and I shared the same face, but little else. She believed in forgiveness. I believed anyone who hurt her should pay. Three years ago, Celeste was set to marry Adrien, Crown Prince of Valeria. But an old succession law forbade identical twins from both retaining legal identities once one entered the royal bloodline. So I chose my sister. My parents staged my death, erased Cassandra Montclair from public records, and promised to protect Celeste after I disappeared. I left her my fortune and the Crescent Guard, then vanished to the northern border. I believed my death had bought her safety. Then our dormant twin bond suddenly returned—and pain told me Celeste was being tortured. I reached the capital to find our cousin Vivienne wearing Celeste’s crown beside Celeste’s husband. My parents watched her coronation from the front row. Celeste had vanished. Inside the palace, everyone mistook me for the disgraced former queen. Servants wore her jewelry. Adrien dismissed every plea she had made as jealousy. Even our parents threatened to disown her. They said her wicked sister had died long ago. They said Cassandra would be ashamed of her. Surrounded by royal guards, I picked up a sword and turned the hilt three times—the way I always had before protecting my sister. My mother went pale. My father staggered back. “Cassandra?” I raised the blade. “Now that you recognize me, tell me where my sister is.”

My fiancée canceled the five-million-dollar investment I'd made in my best friend's company and replaced it with a five-hundred-dollar transfer. She told me that real friendship shouldn't be measured in money. Three days later, she invested a hundred million dollars in her childhood sweetheart's company at the most expensive hotel in Manhattan, in front of Wall Street investors and the media. Everyone started cheering, telling her she might as well just marry the guy. She didn't stop them. Why would she? She believed that no matter what she did, I'd never leave. What she didn't know was that I owned the core system that generated most of Nexora's profits. I'd spent eight years building Nexora, the company she was so proud of, from the ground up. She also didn't know my last name was Hale. I was the sole heir to Hale Global Group, a conglomerate powerful enough to bankrupt Nexora with a single word.

The stray cat I adopted had recently started looking at my boyfriend, Logan Bennett, and his female best friend, Chloe Dawson, like they were complete idiots. Then one day, Chloe climbed into the passenger seat of Logan’s car again and shot me a provocative smile. A fierce little voice suddenly rang out in my head: “Human, that woman is calling you an idiot in her head! She’s also planning to get your man drunk tonight! Hurry up and slap her! If you do, I’ll make sure you find money on the street when you leave!” I froze and stared down at Mochi in my arms. So my cat could not only talk, but also read minds and predict the future? Fine. From today on, Mochi and I would make these two shameless cheaters pay—and make sure everyone knew exactly who they were!

On the day of the business dinner, my boyfriend, Sebastian Lambert, makes up an excuse to send me away. He then has Laura Jensen, the woman he's never gotten over, take over the fashion design proposal I'm about to finish. She goes to the dinner in my place. By the time I get back, Laura has already replaced me as the lead on the project. Everyone expects me to lose it. Instead, I just smile and decide to hand Laura my job too. "It's just one proposal. You can have it. In fact, you can have my job as head designer too!" What none of them realizes is that the company only got this far because of my family's investment. The moment I walk away, my family will pull its funding. The company will be headed straight for bankruptcy, and Sebastian will be left covering all the losses and paying a huge amount in damages.

The attending physician approaches with a stun baton. Joseph Stout holds Rebecca Caldwell, the woman he's never gotten over, against his chest. He says, "Lillian, admit you're crazy, and I'll leave Noah alone." Rebecca leans against him with a sweet smile. "Just admit it, Lillian. Joseph is only trying to help you." Joseph looks at me like I'm something he scraped off the bottom of his shoe. "Sign the psychiatric evaluation papers. Don't make me force you." I wipe the sweat from my face and smile at the security camera. "Joseph, did you forget? I still have your company's master key." His expression flickers, but he quickly scoffs. "No one's going to take a lunatic seriously." Right in front of him, I hit "Enter" on my phone. "Then let's see what your billions of dollars have to say."

The day I found out I was pregnant, my husband, Julian Calloway, told me he had been reborn and wanted a divorce. “Three months from now, I’ll go bankrupt. You’ll work yourself to death helping me pay off my debts, and you’ll die young. “This time, I absolutely refuse to drag you down with me. Take this $9,000,000. We’ll get divorced—” Before he could finish, I picked up the pen and signed. “Fine. Just transfer the money to my account.” That evening, while I was gathering my things from the living room, I overheard Julian’s secretary, Naomi Foster, speaking smugly through his phone. “I can’t believe she’s actually that stupid. How did she ever get into Harvard? “You made up some ridiculous story about being reborn and going bankrupt, and she actually believed you.” Julian chuckled. “Who cares? If she leaves quietly with the money, isn’t that better than having her make a scene?” I raised an eyebrow. Of course I knew he was lying. Because I really had been reborn. And in one month, Julian Calloway really would go bankrupt.

On the day I returned to my alma mater for its centennial celebration, my assistant sent me a screenshot of a social media post. "I hope my girl's first time performing onstage at eighteen goes perfectly." In the photo, an unfamiliar girl stood backstage in my custom-made gown, looking as graceful as a white swan. The post was made by my husband, and he had hidden it from me alone. I was staring at the photo, about to message him and demand an explanation, when the girl appeared onstage at the celebration. I was seated in the front row. She looked exactly as she did in the photo, singing the song my husband had composed for me. After a moment's thought, I took out my phone, recorded her performance, and sent it straight to him. "Honey, what a coincidence. I just found my missing gown and necklace here at the school. "This girl is even singing the song you wrote for me. Anyone who didn't know better might think she was some obsessed fan trying to be me. "Tell me, if I call the police right now, how many years do you think she'd get?" The moment my message went through, a spotlight swept across the audience and landed squarely on my husband's face. He appeared on the big screen holding a banner covered with messages cheering the girl on. Without hesitation, I rose from my seat, turned to him, and smiled. "Fancy seeing you here, Honey."

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."

Seven days after my husband’s funeral, I saw him at the airport, about to leave the country with my best friend. He was holding my best friend’s hand with one hand and pushing a suitcase with the other. My parents were right behind them, apparently there to see them off. When I stepped into their path, Adrian Shaw didn’t look the least bit guilty. Instead, his first instinct was to pull Chloe Bennett protectively behind him. “Hailey, faking my death was my idea. Chloe had nothing to do with it. “She’s pregnant. If you want to lose your mind over this, take it out on me.” My fingers tightened around the pregnancy test results in my pocket until my knuckles turned white. Adrian only frowned at me. “Don’t worry. I still love you. “I’ll spend summers with her in the Southern Hemisphere, then come back north to be with you in the winter. That way, neither of you gets neglected.” The people around us stared at me like I was the punch line to some cruel joke. Chloe’s eyes reddened as she tucked herself against his chest. “Hailey, I’m sorry. I’ve been in love with him for years. “I know this is wrong, but feelings aren’t something you can control. Not when three people are involved.” With that, she reached for the suitcase that had already cleared inspection and started to leave. But I’d worked in customs enforcement for five years. I’d learned to spot things most people would miss. And the heart-shaped stone inside her suitcase was giving off a faint, icy glow unlike anything I’d ever seen from an ordinary mineral. I hit the alarm button without hesitation. “I’m sorry, ma’am. You’re suspected of carrying an unidentified restricted item.” “You’ll need to submit to an inspection immediately.”

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.

My fiancée is beautiful and has a steady job. She's into drones, and she joined a group chat. I hinted to her, carefully, that the people in that group weren't right, and that if anything went wrong she'd be on the hook too. Then I joined the group myself on a burner account, and saw the way Alyssa carried herself in there. Several men who were obviously close with her kept posting flirty stickers. Alyssa's voice messages came back all bashful. “Stop it! You're all married men, and you're picking on me like this!” “Next flight, let's all go camping together.” Their plan was five men and one woman, two days and one night. And a drone taking photographs at twenty-six thousand feet. You'd have to have something wrong with your head to do that.

My girlfriend never felt safe with me. She was always testing whether I'd leave her. We were together five years. In that time, she ran three hundred tests. A month into the relationship, she called me drunk and said a man was harassing her at a bar. When I got there, I found a man holding her down, kissing her. A year and a half in, I was about to pay for my mother's surgery and found every dollar gone from my account. After I'd scrambled and borrowed and finally covered it, my girlfriend texted me, laughing: "Congratulations. You passed." It wasn't until our wedding day, when she walked in holding another man's hand, that something in me finally died.

The sapphire bracelet my grandmother had left me, a flawless royal blue piece worth more than 4,000,000 dollars, turned up on Cecelia Swanson's social media. In the photo, the assistant, fresh out of college, raised a glass of champagne. Her smug caption made my skin crawl: [Thank you for spoiling me, Mr. Tavernier. The Professor said this bracelet alone could buy a few houses~] I sent Mason Tavernier a text. [Bring the bracelet back within two hours, or face the consequences.] He left me on Read. Two hours later, I sat staring at my phone, my finger hovering over the [Report to Police] button. Three seconds passed. Then the reception erupted into chaos. Through the venue's security cameras, I watched the police pin Cecelia against the champagne tower as spilled champagne soaked through her borrowed couture gown. They hadn't listened to reason. Thus, I would just have to teach them a lesson.

On the day I returned to the country, my husband, Dan Anderson, who promised to pick me up, sent someone over instead. She met me at the airport and said smugly, “I bet you’re Dan’s so-called girl best friend.” I anxiously instructed her, “Quick, send me to the mansion on Fortune Street.” That morning, my butler had suddenly told me that my grandfather was bedridden. Hence, I took the earlier flight back home. The woman did not move. Instead, she glared at me viciously. “You’re a despicable homewrecker. I’m going to kill you!” I did not see the first slap coming. In my daze, more slaps quickly followed. Fortunately, I had some basic self-defense skills. I quickly tossed her onto the floor. “Are you insane? Is this how Dan asked you to treat me?”

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.

After Alfie Lawson, the young heir of an elite family, is dumped by his sweet, innocent girlfriend, he develops selective mutism. His mother announces that whoever can get her son to speak will be rewarded with 100,000 dollars. I push my way through all the women trying to coax him out of his shell. "Hey, remember how you were calling me 'Mommy' in bed last night?" "I did not!" Alfie blurts out. Immediately, his mother wires 100,000 dollars to my account. I'm elated. From then on, I follow him around every day, teasing him and collecting my money. I rake in a fortune without even lifting a finger. Alfie won't speak, and he can't exactly hit me either. So whenever I push him too far, he resorts to shutting me up with his lips. Overnight, I go from being his study companion to his girlfriend. Every time I make a dirty joke, he makes sure I regret it by punishing me in bed until I'm too scared to say another word. Then, just before our wedding, Alfie's innocent old flame, Wendy Brown, returns after getting a taste of the real world. That night, he never comes home. I take the remaining half-box of condoms and the savings I've scraped together over the past decade, then drag my suitcase out of our marital home. I deliver the condoms to them. As for the savings, I use them to buy myself a ticket back home.

I was an employee of Starmax Group, the country’s business giant, and the husband of its president, Willow Lawrence. To keep our love untainted, I refused every shortcut she offered me and stubbornly chose to work my way up from the bottom, determined to prove through my own abilities that I was worthy of her. Until Jasper White came along. He was more handsome than I was and had a more tragic past. The way he pretended to be strong easily brought out Willow’s instinct to protect him. Thus, Willow personally gave him the promotion meant for me at the most pivotal moment in my career. Afterward, she offered me hefty ‘compensation’. I did not argue or make a scene. I accepted it all with a smile, completely at peace with the outcome. Because from that moment on, Willow was no longer my lover. She was simply my ‘top-tier investor’ and a reliable ‘human ATM’.