Independence Romance Short Stories & Face Slapping Novels

The day my fiancé returned from deployment, he invited me to the celebration gala held in his honor at the Prescott family estate. My younger half-sister begged to come because she hoped to meet an eligible man, and I brought her without hesitation. At dinner, my future mother-in-law laughed and said, "That stubborn son of mine is finally going to marry the woman he loves." I blushed and turned to find Major Adrian Prescott staring directly at me. The moment I caught him, he lowered his head too quickly, took a drink, and nearly choked. His fellow officers teased him while my half-sister leaned close and whispered that she envied me. I believed my future could not have been brighter. Then words made of golden light appeared before my eyes. [Within one hour, Delia Langford will be found half-dressed beside Adrian Prescott.] [The guests will believe they caught them together. Adrian will be pressured to marry Delia, accept a permanent overseas posting, and never return to Ravenmere.] Ice filled my veins. Delia was the innocent-looking half-sister sitting beside me with her arm linked through mine. ...

On the way to the Spring Garden Ball, I was seized by men with murder on their minds, and the undercover guard meant to protect me vanished without a trace. I clawed my way through three days that should have killed me and finally dragged myself back to the estate, only to find a whole line of men kneeling in front of my guard. "Your Highness, if you fancy Lady Melanie, you could simply ask for her hand. Why disguise yourself as a bodyguard and stay glued to her elder sister, Lady Elizabeth's side, going so far as to have men dump her out in the wilderness just so she wouldn't outshine your beloved?" Julius Fitzroy's expression didn't so much as flicker. He kept turning the sapphire ring on his finger. "Melanie is only a concubine's daughter. She's sensitive by nature, and I was afraid a hasty proposal would frighten her off. This was the only way." That was how I found out. The Prince Julius had been living at my side in disguise this whole time, and it had never been about me at all. It was always about getting close to my half-sister. My heart turned to ash. I shoved open my father's door. "I'll marry the Crown Prince, sickly or not."

A sudden burst of screams erupted in the living room at 3 AM. I pushed open the door to hear the commentator announcing that my fiancé Noah Lucas' favorite team had advanced to the quarter-finals. Our best friend, Jessie Newman, jumped up excitedly and kissed Noah on the cheek. I would be taking wedding photos with Noah in another five hours. The hangover soup on the table had long since gone cold, with a cigarette butt floating in it. I could not help coughing. The two of them froze mid-conversation. Jessie realized what it looked like and stepped over the wine bottles on the floor with her fair legs. She hugged me and kissed me on the cheek, too. Her voice was gentle and innocent. "Lola, why are you awake? Don't overthink. I've been best friends with Noah since kindergarten. We were just messing around! Noah was too noisy, wasn't he? I'll teach him a lesson for you." Noah casually tossed a cushion at her, hitting her squarely on her bottom, and teased with a laugh, "You're blaming me? You were the one shouting!" Then, he nonchalantly reassured me, "Lola, we're about to take our wedding photos soon. Go and get some more sleep. We'll turn the volume down." There was no apology or explanation. They were just trying to brush me off, as always. They assumed I was being paranoid and petty, tainting their 20-year friendship by overthinking. I loosened my grip on my nightgown. "It's okay. You guys continue." I had had enough of this three-person farce. I was done.

When it's almost time to get off work, Mason Lakeworth's coworkers drag him over to the window and point excitedly at a gorgeous woman downstairs. She's shown up outside their newspaper's building at exactly the same time for seven days in a row. "I did some digging! That's Lindsay Statham, the heiress of Heronvale's richest family. No wonder she drives a supercar with a custom vanity plate!" "And she looks good, too… Too bad she was set up and forced into getting married at a young age five years ago. I wonder which guy hit the jackpot and landed a woman like that." "But seriously, she's been coming to our crappy building for a full week. What is she even here for? Mason, you're always the last to leave. Have you seen who she's waiting for?" Mason stands off to the side in silence, saying nothing for a long time. His coworkers don't really expect him to answer anyway. They all start talking over each other, throwing out ideas. "Wait, Mason—you've been desperate for cash lately, right? Here's your golden ticket. Our new finance column is still short on a star interview. If you can land an exclusive with Lindsay Statham, the boss will definitely give you a huge bonus. You won't have to worry about your son's medical bills anymore!" Mason still doesn't respond. After a while, he withdraws his gaze from the window and finally speaks, his voice so calm it's almost numb. "My son died two weeks ago." He pauses, then adds, "And Lindsay… is my wife—the one I've been secretly married to for the past five years and the woman you're all so curious about."

On our fifth anniversary, I booked out the rooftop lounge to propose to James. Everything was set. Roses, champagne, candles. The only thing missing was him. Then my phone buzzed with a text from an unknown number. “Don’t bother waiting. He’s across the street buying a ring for his childhood sweetheart.” I laughed. Thinking it was a sick prank, I just looked out the window. Directly across the street, in the glass window of a luxury jeweler, James was sliding a diamond ring onto another woman’s finger. My phone vibrated again. “I confessed to you three years ago. “Knowing this now... Will you marry me?” ---

I was always a step behind, while Ryan Walker, my childhood friend, and Claire Morgan, my best friend, were always in a rush. Whenever we ate together, they would finish before I was even halfway through. Then they would start talking about heading to the gaming lounge next door and leave me sitting alone in the restaurant. Once, while we were swimming, my leg cramped halfway across the pool. I called out for help, only to realize they had already gotten out and left. When it was time to submit our college applications, I had not even logged in when they submitted theirs and got up to leave. "Wendy, you take forever. I need to help Claire snag concert tickets, so we're leaving without you. "Claire and I both applied to Eastbridge University. Make sure you apply there too." As soon as Ryan finished speaking, Claire grabbed his arm and pulled him toward the door. They left in such a hurry that he never heard me say, "I'm not applying to Eastbridge University. "You won't ever have to wait for me again."

I always thought Danny was just bad at showing how he felt. He called me a pain, but he carried me to the nurse’s office when I was doubled over in pain. He complained I was needy, but stayed on the phone with me all night whenever the lights went out. So when he told everyone, “She’s just my annoying neighbor. I’ve always seen her like a little sister,” I made excuses for him. Until the night it poured. I watched him lean his umbrella over Maya while letting his own shoulder get soaked. He never turned back to check on me once. My mom called a minute later. “Are you sure you want to turn down that study program in London?” Watching Danny shield Maya from the rain, I finally let go. “Mom,” I said. “I’m taking it.” ---

I’ve cheated on my boyfriend, Julian, three times. The first time, I dumped him because he was broke and hooked up with his boss. The second time, I thought he was getting too old, so I went after a younger personal trainer. By the third time, I was just bored and wanted someone new. But right then, floating text flashed across my vision. “She has no idea he’s the missing heir to a multi-billion-dollar empire.” “Seriously. He gave her three chances to live in luxury, and she blew every single one.” I froze and looked at Julian. His fists were clenched and tears welled up in his bloodshot eyes. "Are you sure you want to leave me?" he asked. I shook my head, heart pounding. "What if I said... I'm mostly done cheating now? Would you forgive me?”

Before my wedding, I was diagnosed with a progressive autobiographical memory disorder. The neurologist said I'd gradually forget everyone, including myself. When I got back to the Winslow estate, my parents had moved the entire wedding fund meant for me into the room of their adopted daughter, Marissa. "Elise, you're the older sister. You need to give way to Marissa. Stop bullying her and making us dread the sight of you." I lowered my head and agreed, then cried in my room all night. The next morning, I couldn't remember why my pillow was wet. That afternoon, I saw my fiance, Graham Ellsworth. He was wiping tears off Marissa's face and looking at me with disgust. "Elise, I was only being affectionate with Marissa. Was that enough for you to threaten to end our engagement? You're unbelievably petty." His words made me cry. But at dinner the next day, when Graham spoke to me with the same cold contempt, I stared at him in confusion. "Sir, who are you?" I was forgetting faster. Then, one evening, Graham offered to take me for a drive outside the city. He stopped on an isolated county road. "The tire's caught against something. Get out and see whether a rock is blocking it." I did as he said and stepped out of the car. Graham drove off and called through the open window, "Since you can't stop tormenting Marissa, stay here and think about it." The car disappeared. I stood beside the road with nothing in my head. I wanted to go home, but I didn't remember where home was, or what my parents were called. By the time the Winslows panicked and Graham had searched every road beyond Stonewick, they finally understood. I really had disappeared.

I was twenty-two that year, and I'd been in love with Brandon Aker for five years. I thought it was the best-kept secret I'd ever had. Until our graduation dinner, when someone brought up the girl who was always hanging around him. He turned to look at me, then smiled and looked away again. "Oh, her? I ended up accepting her. She's pretty entertaining." The entire table burst into laughter. The soup in front of me had gone cold. The one who stopped the waiter was Sloan Hastings. "She hasn't had any yet. Could you heat it up, please?" Some people accepted you simply because they thought you were amusing. I wasn’t a joke. I just realized it far too late.

30,000 emergency meals meant for the disaster-stricken area were all sent to the incinerator as hazardous waste. The order to destroy them came from the deputy chief of the Health Department, Joanne Shea, my wife. The whistleblower was her childhood friend, Kevin Stafford, who claimed to be a retired undercover journalist. This was already the third time he had targeted my company. The first time, he reported my truck for illegal parking. Joanne then forced me to issue a public apology. The second time, he conducted an undercover investigation and accused me of violating packaging label regulations. Joanne issued a fine without hesitation and ordered my company to undergo a month-long rectification. Each time, Joanne has sided with him, using me as an example for others to learn from. This time, with water and electricity cut off in the disaster area, I rushed supplies there overnight only to be blocked at the entrance once again. Holding the certification of compliance, I pleaded, “The front lines can’t wait. If anything goes wrong, I’ll take the blame with my life!” However, Joanne coldly waved me off. “Kevin is a journalist. He would never take the disaster area lightly! Destroy the supplies immediately!” Two days later, the lab report confirmed that the food met all standards. However, the emergency rations had already been destroyed, and the “‘Poisoned Meals for Disaster Relief” scandal had spread like wildfire online. The company faced a widespread online boycott, and major clients terminated their contracts overnight. Joanne looked at the lab report. She felt guilty but still kept her arrogance. “I guess Kevin misjudged the situation, but he meant well.” I found it all hilarious and slipped off my wedding ring. “I’ve given you three chances. Let’s get a divorce.”

The Dempsey family has two adopted sons. I'm one of them, and the other is Julius Haysworth. On the day Elena Dempsey and Julius get engaged, a car accident leaves her crippled. Julius tearfully breaks off the engagement, while I marry Elena to repay the Dempseys for taking me in. For the next ten years, I wait on her hand and foot, support her rehabilitation, and help her walk again. I even give up my chance to attend college for her. Yet, on the very day Elena regains her mobility and takes over the family business, she announces that she wants to bring Julius home. A wealthy woman has scammed him out of every penny, and Elena now wants to divorce me for him. I confront her in fury, destroy everything in our home, and even beg her to reconsider, but Elena refuses to change her mind. Even my adoptive parents believe that a man without a college education is no longer good enough for the now-successful Elena. I'm so furious that I spit out a mouthful of blood and jump from the top floor of the Dempsey residence. When I open my eyes again, I'm back on the day Elena will choose between Julius and me as her future husband.

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.

I was the 99th High Priestess to serve the Temple of Aubin. Through a potent, forbidden ritual known as Soulforging, I could rewrite a person's fate in exchange for a fragment of my life and soul. In the first year we were together, I used Soulforging to save Emile Albrecht from certain death after an arrow pierced his heart. The ritual's toll bleached my hair white. In our third year together, I used Soulforging again to save him from the executioner's blade. He was named heir apparent. In return, I lost my sight. In our sixth year together, Emile brought the woman who had once saved his life by shielding him from that arrow years before. He ordered me to perform another Soulforging ritual to save her. I shook my head and told him I could not perform it again. My soul had almost been exhausted. One more ritual would erase me completely. He seized my wrists and forced me closer despite my struggle. "You survived that ritual twice already! Why would saving a mortal from danger suddenly kill you? "You know what I think? I think you're just throwing a tantrum no one asked for. You're trying to be dramatic about it costing your 'soul!'" I performed the ritual, suppressing the blood that threatened to spill from my throat, and saw it through to the end. The next day, Emile petitioned the king to name me his future queen. As my hands slowly turned transparent, I felt my way out of the palace. I would never be your queen, Emile. Seven days from now, Undine of Cracht would cease to exist.

I was the King's most favored mistress — more indulged than any other woman at court. And yet, after all this time, I still hadn't given him an heir. That day, just as I lifted the fertility tonic Doctor Rose Saylon had prepared for me to my lips, a string of glowing text appeared out of nowhere, hanging in the air in front of me. [The hero really does spoil the heroine rotten, letting her waltz in and out of the palace disguised as a physician.] [Well, our girl doesn't want to be caged up at court, does she? Forget being the King's favorite — he would hand her the crown itself if she asked.] [Meanwhile the other woman is over here choking down her medicine like a good girl, no idea it's the slow-acting poison the heroine cooked up just for her. Poor thing comes from a military family, and the hero's only using her.] [And every single time our hero "visits" her, she's actually drugged unconscious first. Then his captain of the guard, Connor Browning, takes his place in bed.] My head was spinning. What in the world were these words even talking about? Had someone found out that I'd been eyeing that broad-shouldered, narrow-waisted guard at the King's side this whole time?

The night before Prince Dorian's consort-selection reception, I had a terrible dream. I dreamed I got exactly what I wanted. I became his wife, and I wasted my entire life on it. While I hemorrhaged through the birth and our baby died before it drew a breath, Dorian was at a lodge across the city, drinking to celebrate with another woman. What they were celebrating was my labor. My child hadn't been unlucky. Dorian had drugged me. He'd promised that woman she would be the only one to ever bear his children. Later I learned the truth, and I found her, and I found the son she'd given him in secret. Dorian went wild. He broke my arms and legs and kept me locked away for the rest of my life. He entered the boy into my household records and installed him openly as his heir. On the day I died, Dorian finally turned up. Decades of marriage, and it was the most he had ever said to me. "Celeste was born too low for my mother to accept her. That's the only reason you got the title. "You were useful, though. Celeste could never enter the house, but our son can inherit it under your name. "Go quietly. If there's a next life, keep your distance. Stop throwing yourself in my path." I woke with a jolt, refusing to believe it. Then, at the selection reception, I walked straight into Dorian on purpose and lifted the handkerchief from his sleeve. A pair of swans was embroidered on it, and beneath them, small and neat, the name Celeste Beaumont. The blood drained out of my face. I grabbed the girl I'd hated since childhood and headed for the door. "I'm not marrying him. And neither are you."

In the fifth year of her marriage, Natalie Shaw is taken to the police for the 199th time after being mistaken for a mistress. Someone comes to bail her out. Her face is covered in scratches and blood. A chunk of her hair has been ripped out, exposing raw, bleeding skin. It's a horrifying sight. She cries from the pain. But soon, she goes numb. She sits in the chair in silence, trying to untangle her hair, which has been clumped together by thick, sticky blood. Only when a police officer hands her a document and tells her she is free to leave does she slowly lift her head. And sure enough, the person who has come to bail her out is not her husband, Adrian Carter.

My online boyfriend dropped a bomb on me the day before freshman orientation day. He had been playing dice with a group of friends and lost a bet. Apparently, I was the prize. Before I could even figure out whether he was joking, he added me to a gaming group chat packed with more than a hundred people. The announcement at the top had already been changed. "Congratulations, Oliver! You just won yourself a 200-pound girlfriend!" A few seconds later, someone posted an old high school photo of me. It was a picture of me in my loose school uniform. As I was at nearly 200 pounds, my neck had practically disappeared into my shoulders. The chat instantly erupted. "Holy shit! That's not a girlfriend. That's a pig in human form." "A bet's a bet. Oliver, you have to do the couple challenge with her tomorrow." The jokes only got worse from there. Before long, someone even started a betting pool over whether I would have the nerve to show up the next night. My own boyfriend threw 10,000 at me and then backed out. "Don't blame me, man. You rolled a six. You won her fair and square." Oliver, the guy who had supposedly won me, stayed completely silent. Then, the girl everyone in the freshman group had already crowned the hottest girl on campus suddenly tagged me. "Lauren, you're coming tomorrow night, right?" I watched message after message fill the screen. Then, I smiled. They had no idea that I had spent the past several months preparing for the day I finally met my boyfriend in person. I was no longer the girl in that photo. I had gone from 200 pounds to 110. I'd been stopped by plenty of guys over the past two months. I'd gotten so many men asking for my number in the past couple of months than I had during the first 18 years of my life combined. None of the people laughing in that chat knew any of that. And I… Well, I didn't see the need to explain myself. Instead, I quietly put 3,000 on myself. My bet was simple. I would show up exactly on time. The entire group chat went crazy the moment they saw it. Mocking comments, jokes, and laughing emojis flooded the screen. I didn't say anything, letting their jeers fill the screen. Then, I sent one final message. "A bet's a bet."

After her miscarriage, Elise Emery became exactly the wife Colsen Locke had always wanted. She quit telling him about her day. Quit calling when he stayed out all night. Even when an old man falsely accused her of hitting him with her car, she didn't call anyone. Didn't ask for bail. She just spent seven days in custody. At dusk on the seventh day, the precinct's iron gate clanged open. Elise had barely made it down the steps when a black Maybach screeched to a stop in front of her. The door swung open. Colsen stepped out in a custom suit, tall and lean, all broad shoulders and cold control. Same polished look. Same unreadable face.

The night before my wedding, as I was trying on my bridal gown, a line of floating text suddenly drifted across my vision. [Stop smiling. Tomorrow, right in the middle of your vows, the groom is going to bolt for the airport to pick up his first love.] I figured I was just hallucinating from sheer exhaustion until a second text flashed before my eyes. [She spent nine months planning this entire wedding, but he swapped out the ring for his first love's finger size ages ago.] I flipped open the ring box, and sure enough, the diamond band inside was a size too small. The next afternoon, the cathedral was packed with guests. Right as the officiant asked if Victor Bates took me to be his lawfully wedded wife, his phone chimed. The second he saw the caller ID, he turned on his heel and headed straight for the exit without even removing his lapel mic. "Hold on a second. Something came up with Sallie. I can't just ignore it," he said frantically. I tried to chase after him, but his mother grabbed my arm. "A man showing loyalty and compassion is a good thing! Don't throw a scene on your big day." My best friend chimed in, "Look, he's going to come back and marry you eventually anyway. Isn't securing the official title enough?" The entire room waited for me to swallow my pride and endure it. Meanwhile, the floating texts flashed across my field of vision in a frantic frenzy. [Here it comes! She's finally waking up!] I lifted the heavy train of my gown, stepped up to the altar, and took the microphone right out of the officiant's hand. I announced, "The wedding goes on. We're replacing the groom." [Holy shit! Total queen moves! She is killing it!] Sitting in the front row, a man slowly raised his head and buttoned his tailored suit jacket.