Face Slapping Romance Short Stories & Novels

With a knife in hand, Olivia Gerber catches Caleb Jebb in bed with another woman for the ninth time, only to discover that the woman is none other than her younger sister, Shannon Gerber. The usually aloof Caleb suddenly grabs the knife and drives it deep into his own abdomen. "Don't hurt Shannon." Caleb stares at Olivia with bloodshot eyes, his voice unexpectedly shaking. "You can get back at me however you want. I'll accept it. Are you happy now?" Olivia freezes on the spot, her fingertips numb from the warmth of his blood. The next moment, Gerald Gerber, her father, hurries over and slaps her across the face. He launches into a furious tirade. "Olivia, have you lost your mind? All Shannon did was come between you and your husband. What's the big deal? Did you really have to come here and embarrass her?" Vivian Ingham, her mother, points at her and tells her off. "You've been married to Caleb for five years, yet you still haven't given him a child. So many women have tried to take your place as his wife. "Your sister's willing to help you out. Don't you know how lucky you are? And instead of thanking her, you choose to get back at her?" At that moment, Olivia finds the whole situation completely absurd. Caleb has spent years fighting with her, yet he is willing to compromise for Shannon. Gerald and Vivian have known all along that Shannon is a homewrecker, yet they keep enabling her behavior. Ever since Olivia and Shannon were kids, their parents have always favored Shannon. No matter what she does, they always forgive her. And Olivia? All she ever gets is endless criticism. If that's how it is, Olivia is done with her rotten marriage and family.

After siring 18 princes, the current king, Henry Barton, finally sires me, his first princess. On the day of my birth, Father vacates the entirety of West Tower to be my personal place of residence. Not only that, but he also changes the rules, decreeing that no one is allowed to be alone with me. As a result, I remain mute even after I turn six. Father's new consort, Elizabeth Muller, is showered with love and attention even though she only moved into the castle three months ago. The first time we meet, she takes my hand and says, "You're so well-behaved, Princess Julia. Let me take you to look at the fish." After making sure that we're alone in the garden, she grips my wrist. Her smile slowly fades away as she sneers, "You're just a useless princess. Why does everyone in the castle have to bend to your every whim? Once I give birth to a legitimate heir, you and your brothers will have to grovel at my son's feet." My eyes turn bloodshot when Elizabeth digs her nails painfully into my flesh. "No crying. If you're mute, just keep your mouth shut. No one will believe you no matter how many tears you shed." What Elizabeth doesn't know is that I'm not actually mute. On the contrary, I'm actually too good at speaking. I've had an extraordinary talent for mimicking others since I was a child and can easily repeat anything I hear. That's why everyone in the castle is forbidden from speaking when I'm around. It's also why I have been silent for the past six years. The banquet celebrating the harvest festival is hosted one month later. It's extremely rare for all 18 of my brothers to be present at the same time. They take turns teasing me, hoping to get me to speak. As I curl up in Father's embrace, I suddenly blurt out, "Once I give birth to a legitimate heir, you and your brothers will have to grovel at my son's feet."

It's Valentine's Day, and I'm at my desk at the county courthouse when my fiancee, Shelby Smith, walks in to get a marriage license with her male best friend, Liam Pearson. She slides her ID across the counter and offers a casual excuse. "Rowen, don't be mad. I lost a game of Truth or Dare. The penalty is being married to Liam for just one day. I'm bringing him back tomorrow for a divorce." Liam, who has a woman's jacket draped on his shoulders, pipes up with a snide grin. "I don't think Rowen is going to process this for us. After all, he's always had a problem with me. I just don't get men—" Before he can finish, I slam the official stamp down on their application form. "Why wouldn't I? I get it. You two are best friends, nothing more. You just lost a dare, that's all. Take this form over there to pay the marriage license fee. Congratulations." Shelby's face instantly falls when she sees how completely unbothered I am. She hooks her arm through Liam's and storms out. The next day, she shows up at the courthouse with Liam again. I take one look at the vivid hickey on her neck, smile, and hand her a waiting-period notice instead. "Sorry, but a new policy has just been communicated to us. Couples rushing into a quickie divorce like you two need to go home and really think things through. If you still want to call it quits, come back in six months."

On my wedding day, my fiancee, Alisson Poole, never shows up. Neither do her bridesmaids. I stand alone at the altar all day, enduring a roomful of pitying and contemptuous stares. After 999 rejected calls, I finally accept that she has fled the wedding. Back in our empty home, I see a post from her first love, Rhett Barker. "The art I want to explore with you goes beyond the soul. It includes the body, too." In the photo, Alisson wears the million-dollar custom wedding dress I bought her. She and her six bridesmaids kneel commando at his feet. Their eyes are dazed, burning with raw desire. They look at him like he's their deity, eager to be his most devoted followers. I stare at the picture for a long time, then leave a quick like and a comment. "May your noble art stay locked together forever." I screenshot the post and send it to the six bridesmaids' boyfriends. A masterpiece like this deserves a proper audience.

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 my wife, Talia Rosenthal, becomes pregnant with her mentor's son, Lucas Hawthorne's, child, she asks me for a divorce. "We can get married after the baby's born. It's just for show, so don't read too much into it." To make matters worse, our daughter, Joyce Rosenthal, takes her side. "We need to repay those who help us. Besides, that's my mom's child too. Stop making things difficult for Mom, Dad." Instead of causing a scene like everyone expects, I nod quietly, swiftly finalize the divorce, and marry Sonya Silverstein, the woman who once saved my life. In my previous life, because I adamantly refuse to get a divorce, Talia and Joyce abandon me and leave for a distant land. I become a total laughingstock and hit rock bottom. Now that I've been given a second chance at life, I calmly go through with the divorce and vanish from their lives. … Six years later, at an exclusive luxury cruise party, Talia and Joyce push through the crowd on the dance floor, grab me by the wrist, and demand, "Didn't I tell you it was just for show? Where the hell have you been all these years?" I'm caught off guard. The very next second, my mischievous son, Jeremy Jensington, runs straight into my arms. "Daddy, who are you talking to? Mommy's looking for you!"

At the dinner that was meant to formally acknowledge my place in the family, Lydia wept and asked if I would admit, before every guest in the room, that she was the Harrow family's only daughter. The roomful of silk and perfume went still. Seven years ago, the parish birth register and letters left by my grandmother had proved that I was the Harrow family's own daughter, lost years before. Yet since I was brought back to London from the countryside, I had been kept in the most remote wing of the house, never presented for the Season, never once named in a family announcement. It was only when my great-uncle, who administered my grandmother's estate, came to the door demanding answers that Father was compelled to arrange this dinner and introduce the true Miss Harrow to family, friends, and the press. But the moment Lydia's tears fell, Mother stripped the gown from my shoulders and draped it over hers. My brother Charles picked up a pen in front of the assembled guests and struck my name from the announcement he had just inscribed. My husband, Arthur Grant, took hold of my wrist and drew me before the guests. He kept his voice low, as though reasoning with a child who did not understand. "It's only a few words. Why must you push Lydia into a corner?" I looked at him and did as he asked. Lydia's tears gave way to a smile. Father, Mother, and Charles recovered their composure. The party went on, glasses clinked, as though the person whose name had just been erased had never existed. That evening, they asked me to sign over my grandmother's old house to Lydia as her painting studio. What they did not know was that the house had been sold to the railway company a fortnight ago. I had been slow to sign the deed of gift. In the end, I put my name to it after all, and on a separate sheet I signed a deed of separation from Arthur.Through the iron gate I could see moss in the cracks, and all at once I no longer wanted to go inside.

On Christmas Eve, with the temperature at thirteen below zero, a blizzard shut down the interstate in northern New Jersey. The motel at North Ridge Travel Plaza had only two heated rooms left. My hands and feet were numb with cold, but I still walked happily toward Daniel Walker, my husband of five years, a man known for his thoughtfulness. Instead, he walked right past me and handed the last two room keys to his first love Claire Miller, who had just ended her marriage, and her dog Buddy. A woman stranded beside us watched enviously. "Your boyfriend is so thoughtful. He even got a separate room for the dog." Daniel didn't correct her or look back at me. He was too busy taking off his down jacket and draping it over Claire's shoulders. "Eileen is an adult. She can take care of herself. You have depression. You can't take any more cold." He seemed gentle and reliable, but what he truly loved was the feeling of rescuing someone vulnerable. The more helpless a person appeared, the more he gave them, even when I paid the price. Claire eased closer to him. She apologized to me, but her eyes stayed on the room keys. "Sorry, Eileen. Buddy is too skittish to stay with strangers." I didn't remind Daniel, point by point as I used to, that he had forgotten which of us was his wife. I didn't demand that he explain why a dog needed heat more than I did. I only tightened my grip on my car keys and stepped back into the storm. All his easy, considerate devotion went to Claire. All the humiliating, bone-deep cold went to me. But Daniel didn't know that the four-wheel-drive SUV he planned to use to chase me belonged to me. Before I left the apartment, I would take my ID and keys, and I would make sure the SUV stopped somewhere he could no longer follow. And the blizzard was only beginning.

My fiance, Adrian Hale, and I had planned to go snorkeling on Valentine's Day. The day we landed in the south of France, I discovered that his first love, Vivian Clarke, had come with us. They insisted on heading into unpatrolled waters. "But those waters are dangerous, shrouded in strange rumors..." Adrian frowned at me. "Sophie, do you have to ruin the mood right now?" Vivian smiled and hooked her arm through his. "With you here, nothing is going to happen to us." Once we were in the water, Vivian recklessly swam toward the deeper channel. A swell shoved half her body into a narrow opening. I swam over to pull her free, but she thrashed and drove her heel hard into my knee. Her elbow knocked my mask crooked. Before I could straighten it, Vivian kicked me into the opening. Adrian came up behind us, grabbed Vivian, and held her hand tight. The voices over my underwater headset were muffled, but I still heard Adrian's cold warning clearly. "Vivi doesn't know these waters. You do, don't you? "You led her into deeper water on purpose. Who exactly were you trying to hurt? "Figure your own way out. Consider it the lesson you've earned!" Briny seawater flooded my throat. My aching legs kicked uselessly. My body was wedged fast in the opening. I closed my eyes in despair. My last thought was this: if I died, they deserved to pay with their lives.

On Sunday night, I had already changed into a dress and was about to take a wedding anniversary cake to my husband at the hospital. I had just picked up my car keys when several lines of text suddenly floated into view. [Don't go.] [The moment you step into Avermont Medical Center, tonight's surgery - the one where Elise Parker's patient dies - will be recorded with you as the primary surgeon.] [Grant Holloway will use your EHR e-signature credentials, alter the surgical schedule, and add false entries to the chart so you take the fall for her.] [Three days later, the patient's family will livestream outside the hospital demanding answers, and the internet will brand you a heartless doctor.] [In the end, the patient's brother will attack you with a knife.] I froze in the entryway. A second later, Grant called. "Jessica, are you at the hospital yet? Swing by Medical Affairs when you get here. I need you to sign off on something."

Gerald Dawson, my brother-in-law, is losing a lot of blood and urgently needs a transfusion. He has a rare blood type, Rh-negative, and Brian Johnson, my wife's first love, happens to be the closest person with the matching blood type. In my past life, I beg Brian to save Gerald. He gets lightheaded after donating his blood, misses a step, and tumbles down the stairs, breaking his neck and dying instantly. Gemma Dawson, my wife, pins his death entirely on me. She takes me bungee jumping on my birthday and directly pushes me off the platform. "Brian suffered so much when he died! You're going to pay it back a hundredfold, Simon!" I have been reborn, and Gemma chooses her first love over me. I respect her decision and wish her the best, but she eventually comes to regret her choice.

After a seven-year relationship, I was supposed to walk down the aisle with my fiancé, Julian Bailey, next week. Heart filled with joy, I went to try on wedding dresses. That very night, private footage of me from the fitting was turned into AI-generated deepfakes and uploaded to every major social platform. In my past life, I had tried to convince people of my innocence. No one did. In public, my fiancé took the moral high ground, declaring he’d never take back a ruined woman. My parents claimed I had humiliated them and threw me out onto the street. Cornered and desperate, I jumped off a bridge. After I died, my fiancé pulled my trembling best friend into his arms, whispering softly: “It’s over now. Nothing can stand in our way. “Good thing she was such an idiot. She went to her grave suspecting nothing, thinking it was all her fault.” The truth chilled me to the bone. When I opened my eyes again, I was back at the exact second before stepping out to the fitting. My fiancé’s call came through. “Hazel, have you left yet? Laura and I are waiting at the boutique.”

I grew up alongside Arthur Stevenson, who eventually became the Lord Chancellor. However, on the day of the royal physician selection, he disqualified me on the grounds that I had spilled a small amount of medicinal residue. Instead, he chose my younger stepsister. When I asked him why, he looked completely unconcerned. "Your sister wants the position, so what's the harm in a loving older sister stepping aside? A proper lady shouldn't be so jealous and willful. Consider today a small lesson for you." What he didn't realize was that if I couldn't enter the castle as a resident physician, I would be forced to enter as a royal mistress to the tyrannical King. Later on, word reached me that the cold, unfeeling Lord Chancellor stood outside the castle gates, drenched in the pouring rain for an entire day and night, asking for nothing more than a chance to see me.

Everyone knew I was crazy for Mandy Willow, and tragically so. Ever since I fell for her at first sight, my loyalty never wavered as I swore to myself that I'd never marry anyone else. But Frank Young the hellraiser was the one she ever loved! For his sake, she lied to me and gaslighted me for years, even working with him to plan my parents' murder, stealing my sister's organs and all my family's fortune. I died as I learned the truth, overwhelmed with resentment and regret! When I opened my eyes again, I was back in my senior year, when I had confessed my love to her. But this time, I would not let the same thing happen again. Instead of helping her to destroy my own family, I would slowly tear her apart until she was completely destroyed!

I'm a born egotist. I never spiral or beat myself up over anything. If someone screws with me, I screw them right back. As a kid, my parents always favored my elder sister. One Children's Day, they bought her a cake and got me nothing. I flipped the table and smashed the cake into a complete mess. "Who are you trying to bullshit? If you can't afford two kids, don't have two. If you're that broke, why didn't you just get sterilized back then?" In high school, my cousin snatched one of my toys. My aunt said that he was still little and that I should let him have his way. I didn't even bother holding back. I kick him so hard that he howled in pain. "He's not my kid. Why the hell should I baby him?" After enough incidents like that, everyone around me learns not to test me. When I grew up, I got engaged to Liam Zeller, my childhood sweetheart. But the day before the wedding, I caught him cheating on me with my best friend, Mia Shaw. Liam leaned back against the couch and drawled, "Erica, I'll be honest with you. I'll admit I really did like you before, but after being with you, I realized you're just way too selfish. Any man who stays with you would lose his mind. You really ought to reflect on yourself once in a while." None of that got to me. I straddled him and slapped him across the face over and over again. "You knew I was selfish and still had the balls to cheat on me? You've got some nerve!"

The year Jonathan Nash becomes paralyzed in a car accident and falls from the top of the boxing world, I sell my family home and spend eight years working as a hotel housekeeper to scrape together the money for his surgery. I stay by his side until he fights his way back to the top and becomes world champion again. At the celebration party, he holds up his trophy and says through tears, "To the love of my life, who never left my side. May we spend the rest of our lives together." My eyes well up with tears. I think all those years of sacrifice are finally paying off. Unexpectedly, the spotlight sweeps past me as I stand up and instead lands on Amber Lloyd, the boxing team's doctor. I freeze in place, hearing nothing but the pounding of my heart. On the big screen, a slideshow titled "The World Champion's Recovery: A Wife's Journal" begins to play. Each slide is filled with my own records, including Jonathan's muscle response logs from all those nights I spent massaging his legs, gait training plans, and breakdowns of his boxing technique. What hurts even more is the final slide—his marriage certificate with Amber, dated five years ago. Jonathan grips my trembling shoulders, his expression a mix of desperation and warning. "Yvette, the public wants a respectable love story about a boxing champion's miraculous recovery. They don't need to know that the woman who helped me through it all was a housekeeper. "If you come forward now, no one will believe you. There's no point making a scene over this. I'll buy your family home back for you." I stare at the man standing in front of me in disbelief. Eight years of selfless devotion have become the very thing he uses against me. I walk out of the ballroom, my hands shaking as I pull up the overseas job offer on my phone. Without a second thought, I tap "Accept". "Ms. Sloan, your flight and visa will be ready in three days. Please stay in touch. We look forward to having you on board!"

Jaime Barthes was the only son of the wealthiest family in Hartow City. Ever since he was a child, he could have anything he wanted. On his fifteenth birthday, he fell for Eden Hawthorn the moment he first saw her. Right then and there, he boldly declared, "She belongs to me, and nobody should ever think about touching her!" During the entire decade of their marriage, he was obsessively protective of her. She was forbidden from any kind of interaction with men, and she had to employ the help of her assistant for something as mundane as handing a report to a male colleague. Everyone assumed this was simply Jaime's love language. One day, he caught a terminal disease. The entire nation frantically searched high and low for a matching heart donor, and when they finally found one, Eden decided to give the heart to another man named Jericho Brown.

Everyone says that the Crown Prince of the Kingdom of Landor, Prince Colin Livingston, loves me to the core. But on the day of court presentation, he bypasses me and presents the princess consort's diamond ring to my elder sister, Monique Payne, instead. However, I'm not the least bit upset. I even smile and congratulate Colin, saying, "I wish you and my sister a lifetime of happiness, Your Royal Highness." In my past life, I caught Colin rolling in the sheets with Monique when I was six months pregnant. I flew into a rage and accidentally killed her with a sword. Colin hated me for the rest of my life after that. When he finally ascended the throne, he posthumously crowned Monique as his Queen and even registered the many children I risked my life bearing for him under her name instead. I was heartbroken, requesting a royal decree to depose me as his wife. However, he tore up the royal edict and imprisoned me inside the palace instead. "You are my wife. And you will never escape me in this lifetime!" Ultimately, while I was still locked up in my room, our enemies ambushed and attacked the palace, setting fire to the place. And despite being struck down by numerous arrows, Colin still used every last ounce of his strength to protect me and save me from harm. Just before his death, he wiped away my tears with bloody hands and whispered into my ear, "Don't cry for me, Merry. I was the one who let you down in this lifetime. "But if there ever is a next life, I hope that you will let me be with Monique instead." I agreed in a trembling voice. But when I open my eyes again, I realize that I have gone back in time to the day the Crown Prince chooses the princess consort. So, I help him fulfill his wish this time.

When I am diagnosed with congenital heart disease, I am forced to leave the dance company and give up the career I have spent my entire life working toward. My best friend, Vivian Carter, steps into my place, promising to fulfill my dream in my stead. My boyfriend, Ethan Bennett, proposes to me on the spot. He swears that no matter what happens to me—or what becomes of me—he will never leave my side. Over the next five years, I devote myself to helping Vivian rise through the ranks until she becomes the company's principal dancer. With my support, Ethan's career flourishes as well. And through it all, they never stop telling me they are searching for a way to cure me. This year, while both of them are busy preparing for an upcoming competition, I go to my follow-up appointment alone. But when I receive the results, I am stunned. There is nothing wrong with my heart. Overwhelmed with joy, I clutch the medical report to my chest and rush home, eager to share the news with them. Then, before I can step inside, I hear voices coming from within. Vivian speaks first. "Evelyn's follow-up appointment is coming up. Are you sure nothing will go wrong?" Ethan's voice is calm and unconcerned. "I already took care of it. Her test results will still show that she has heart disease." He pauses before adding, "Besides, she hasn't danced in five years. Even if she somehow finds out, what can she possibly do?" Vivian lets out a quiet laugh. "You're right." I freeze outside the door. The blood drains from my face as their words sink in. So this is the truth. My best friend and the man who promised to love me forever have been lying to me all along. Every promise. Every act of devotion. Every sacrifice I thought they had made for me. It has all been a lie.

When I was five, the wealthy Whitmores adopted me from an orphanage so their only son, Caleb, would have someone to grow up with. The first time we met, Caleb pulled his best friend Audrey Ellis over and gave me half his candy. After that, the three of us were inseparable. That changed in the summer after our college entrance exams, when Audrey confessed her feelings to me—and I accepted. Caleb quietly chose a university a thousand miles away. The night before he was supposed to leave, he went drinking alone. Someone dragged him into the alley behind the bar and beat and humiliated him until he died. Audrey and I spent the next two decades burdened by guilt. At forty, I was diagnosed with ALS. The night before I died, she held me and cried so hard she shook. "Julian, I love you. I always have." "But if there is a next life, I have to stay with Caleb. I can't let anything happen to him again." When I opened my eyes, I was back. I had returned to the day Audrey was going to tell me she loved me.