Plot Twists Romance Short Stories & Mistress Face Slapping Novels

When I took my five-year-old son, Ethan Drake, for a routine medical checkup, I noticed an additional renal function test listed on the report. “This is a mandatory item for kidney donor matching. Didn’t you know?” the nurse asked. Her explanation left me confused. “The checkup I booked didn’t include this test. Could there have been a mistake?” “There’s no mistake. The appointment was made by Ms. Serena Vaughn. She specifically added this item.” The Serena the nurse mentioned was my wife. At that moment, my sharp eyes caught another form in her hand: [Diagnosis: Polycystic Kidney Disease. Patient: Noah Vaughn. Family: Serena Vaughn.] I immediately called Serena. “The nurse said you scheduled a kidney donor matching test for our son. What’s going on?” There was a three-second pause before she spoke. “The nurse must have made a mistake. I’ve been busy lately. Don’t call me if there’s nothing important.” I smiled and told her I’d do that. Then I turned to the nurse and asked, “Which ward is Noah staying in?”

After a passionate night, my childhood sweetheart, Jack Jenner, thoughtfully prepared birth control pills for me. I held his wrist and pleaded coquettishly, "The pills are bitter. I don't want to take them. Let's just get married if I get pregnant." Jack patted my head and chuckled. "Don't be silly. Childbirth is much worse than taking pills. Besides, I'm getting engaged on Sunday. Whose child would it be if you gave birth?" I froze as he casually kissed my forehead, gently coaxing me, "My darling Ariana, pack up your things and take them with you. We can't fool around like this anymore. My fiancée asked me to be chaste." I numbly threw the things into the trash can and dialed my father's number. "I'll marry him."

To save my father-in-law, I donated a kidney—but on the very day I was discharged, she didn't hesitate for a second to shove me into the guest room. "Those centipede-like scars are disgusting. Don't show yourself to me again!" In the dead of night, my wound tore open. I collapsed into a pool of blood, dialing her number 100 times, desperate for help. She hung up every single time. Meanwhile, the master bedroom echoed with Theo Reynold's low, passionate growls. In that instant, every ounce of strength drained from me. When I was admitted to the hospital, I held the military medal my mother had left me on her deathbed. That was when I remembered the woman even the mayor bowed to when she walked into a room. Without thinking, I dialed the long-forgotten number. "Commander Jennings, you once said you owed my mother a debt of gratitude. Now… I want you to marry me."

The whole city’s paparazzi knows that Cade Finley would rather sleep with a nightclub escort than with me. The question they ask daily is: When will Mrs. Finley finally give away her precious "first time"? In front of the media cameras, Cade calmly turned towards me. "We can each have our own fun. If you don't like what I'm doing, you can go look for a man too." With that, he casually shoved his hands into his pockets and walked away. That night, he was photographed with his new fling in bed, and it made the trending news once again. While everyone thought I would just sit and wait until dawn, I contacted the paparazzi and bought a trending topic spot. Then, I tore up my lace nightgown, messed up the sheets, and took a bedroom photo from a third-person perspective. I then sent an anonymous message to Cade: "Bro, your wife is amazing. Let me know when you're getting a divorce."

For four years, I worked three jobs to support my husband, Edward Godfrey, while he chased his PhD and battled ALS. And somehow, in all that time, I'd never stepped foot on his campus. Not because I didn't want to. Every time I brought it up, he had some excuse ready. When graduation came, I asked to go to his hooding ceremony. He shut it down fast. "It's just a formality. A bunch of lab nerds. You'd be bored. Once I bring the diploma home, we'll have a candlelight dinner." I didn't argue. Just helped him straighten his doctoral gown. But I couldn't hide how excited I was. So I dressed up. And secretly followed him. Onstage, Edward stood beside his wheelchair, voice thick with emotion. "I want to thank my wife. She stood with me in the lab, even while pregnant, helping me grind out countless precious data points." I froze. My hand pressed against my flat stomach. Cold crept down my spine. For four years, I'd busted myself raw to support his PhD. I went from the girl everyone on campus admired to a fish seller, reeking like seafood every day. Worked so hard I miscarried twice. So who exactly was this "wife" he was thanking?

Lennon Shepard's first love, Jessie Sterling, has caused a medical malpractice incident due to an operational mishap. That night, Lennon cuts off the oxygen for Mabel Judson's mother to coerce her into taking the blame. At the moment, he's sitting across from Mabel with a confession placed between them. Once she signs it, she will never be able to pick up a scalpel in this country for the rest of her life.

Throughout our seven-year marriage, my CEO wife, Ruby Irving, goes on yet another business trip on Memorial Day once again, so she can't travel back to my hometown with me. But soon, I saw the photos uploaded by her assistant, Wilbur Stork, on his social media feed that featured her sweeping the grave in his hometown instead. The caption writes, "Mom and Dad must be very satisfied with their daughter-in-law because the gloomy weather has cleared up in an instant." I chortle in amusement for a brief moment before liking the post calmly. Then, I comment, "I respect your relationship and wish you nothing but happiness." But my colleagues all go nuts over the latest bombshell. They are quick to form their chat groups and speculate as to how I'm going to cause my next ruckus in the company this time. Ruby soon calls me while sounding very stern. "I know Wilbur does things very brashly due to his young age, but you shouldn't have caused him trouble in the comment section! What will everyone else in the company think of him? How is Wilbur supposed to continue working in this company? "Moreover, Wilbur doesn't have anyone left in his family. What's wrong with me keeping him company just this once? People with happy families like you don't have empathy for others at all! "I want you to delete your comment and remove your like right now. Once the holidays are over, I'll free up some time in my schedule to go back to your hometown with you." As I listen to Ruby making yet another empty promise to me in such a casual way, I let out a soft chuckle. "It's fine." Once the holidays are over, we'll be able to obtain our divorce certificates.

Nicholas Hunt loves testing me a lot. When I just graduated from university, he tried to make me take on a five-million-dollar house mortgage. After I turned him down, Nicholas was quick to buy Yvonne Myers, the campus belle, a villa that was worth eight million dollars. It was even paid in full. As he held the property deed, he told me, "The truth is, I'm super rich. I've been pretending to be poor just so I can test your integrity. "It's a shame that you never passed my test. I'm very disappointed in you, Elizabeth. Let's break up." I just smiled at him casually. Then, I walked away without hesitation. What a coincidence. I'm the daughter of the richest man in the country. I, too, had been pretending to be poor. Four years later, we bump into each other at the Fortune List Summit. At that time, Nicholas has just squeezed into the top 50 rank. He walks into the venue with Yvonne clinging to his arm. It's then he notices me. I'm wearing plain-looking clothes without any jewelry adorning me, and I happen to be holding a child. Thinking that I'm a nanny, Nicholas begins mocking me. "Wow, you really went all out just to steal one more glance at me, huh? I can't believe you're able to follow me all the way here. "You should learn to accept reality, though. I'm on the Fortune List, while you're working as someone else's nanny. The gap between us is far too wide, so you should stop dreaming already!" I just ignore Nicholas in favor of resenting my dad for making me attend this stupid event. After all, I've just managed to block out one full day just to spend time with my son, and yet I have to waste my precious time on this dumb event.

My lawyer wife’s assistant got into trouble again. This time, he had been driving at nearly sixty miles an hour in a residential neighborhood and crashed into my seventy-year-old mother, sending her flying. My mother had gotten paralyzed from the accident after suffering fractures in dozens of places. She would be bedbound for the rest of her life. My wife represented her assistant in court again. She claimed that my mother had intentionally gotten in the path of her assistant’s vehicle to get compensation money, and that was how the crash happened. She pushed all the responsibility back on my mother. In the end, her assistant was pronounced innocent and released, while I had to pay him for damages. “Tyson, he’s just a twenty-five-year-old kid. He knows nothing. If he got sent to jail, his life would be ruined. Don’t pursue this with him.” After the lawsuit, the assistant rushed to make an online post. [My lawyer’s so gorgeous. She’s an angel of justice!] Florence liked the post right in front of me. Meanwhile, I stayed so calm it was scary. “Let’s get a divorce, Florence.”

On our third wedding anniversary, I brought a gift to my husband’s office. Walking past the secretary's suite, I stopped dead. A king-size bed had been set up inside. A young woman in a designer dress was sprawled across it, a handheld game console in her hands, surrounded by imported snacks of every variety. "Kevin, the lunch you ordered yesterday was pre-packaged meals. Marcus and I both felt sick after eating it. Today, make sure it's from The Palace Hotel." Kevin -- my husband's personal assistant -- bowed and scraped before her, his face a mask of obsequious flattery. "Mrs. Thorne, please don't worry. Mr. Thorne made it very clear -- everything should be tailored to your preferences and the baby's. He knows you love the chef at The Palace Hotel, so he set up a standing VIP account for you. Anything you want, anytime." She was Mrs. Thorne? Then what exactly was I? My brow furrowed. I glanced down at the wedding ring I'd worn for years. The girl beamed, radiant. "For the baby's arrival, my husband is throwing a lavish yacht party. Every important person in New York is getting an invitation. I want the whole world to know that I'm the love of his life, and that our son will be blessed by the most powerful people before he's even born. The champagne and flowers must be the finest available -- no budget limit. Our child is going to have the best of everything from day one." I stared at the gentle swell of her belly and called my father. "Dad, that divorce agreement you drew up three years ago -- you can have the lawyers send it over now."

During the summer break, I took my daughter, Stella Quinton, to a private beach that I own for some fun and some scuba diving. That's when Felicity Portman, a famous actress, barges into the beach with a group flocking behind her. "This is a private beach that Micah has given me permission to entertain VIP clients at! Hurry up and get lost, you filthy commoners!" The arrogant Felicity has the gall to bring up my husband, Micah Morrison, just to threaten me. When she finds out about my identity, she even makes fun of me for being a useless woman who relies on him for survival. I'm furious, to say the least. As the heiress to the richest family in Seacrest City, how am I a useless woman who relies on men for survival? Also, I'm the one who gave Micah his movie company and all of his resources! But when Micah reaches the beach, he works with Felicity to coerce my darling Stella into putting on a diving performance for a lecherous investor. With a sneer on my face, I summon the Seashark Special Forces, who only take orders from the most elite members of Seacrest City. "Seashark Special Forces, come to Moonrise Bay right now and clear out the area!"

In my fifth year with the fallen heir, Connor Garrett, I make 99 wishes for him. As a result, I age and turn into an old woman. He, on the other hand, rises to become the richest man. However, he immediately turns around and proposes to his first love, Nadine Zeigler. He says to her, "Nadie, you have no idea how much I went through to marry you." Nadine toys with a diamond ring worth billions and asks, "What about that follower of yours who grants wishes?" Connor gives a carefree scoff. "She's just a tool who traded her youth for my fortune. Does she really think I will marry an old woman?" I stand in the shadows and silently make my final wish. Without my help, I would like to see how he will rise again this time.

While I was driving my bus, I spotted my boyfriend's car ahead. He was kissing the woman he had always been hung up on. I could not help tapping the horn. That was all it took. He and his dream girl stepped out and blocked my bus in the middle of the road. I glanced at the passengers behind me. I could not afford to delay everyone, so I swallowed my pride and asked him to move his car. She lifted her chin, her voice dripping with arrogance. “Not happening. Unless you get off that bus and apologize to me right here, you're not going anywhere.” Traffic was completely jammed. There was no way forward and no way back. My face went pale, but I had no choice except to lower my head and prepare to apologize. My boyfriend grew impatient. "Why are you still standing there? Get down and apologize to Sally. Right now." Humiliated, I inched my way towards the door. However, the doors unexpectedly swung open and the passengers rushed out of the bus. “Do you think we have time for this? I'm already late for school. Are you going to take responsibility?” “My perfect attendance this month is ruined because of you. You two are unbelievable!” “If you shameless idiots want to act like this, don't blame us for getting physical!”

After I had helped our law firm win nine hundred and ninety-nine cases in a row, my husband, who had kept our marriage hidden for years, finally agreed to hold a wedding and make our relationship public. However, I waited until nightfall, and he never showed up. Instead, I saw a photo of him and his female assistant kissing in front of everyone at their wedding on Instagram. Her caption read, [I was just being mocked by my coworkers for being a bachelorette no one wants, and then my lawyer hero came to save me. From now on, I’ll be his perfect employee during the day, and he’ll be my loving husband at night.] In the photo, the wedding rings on their ring fingers were impossible to ignore. For a moment, everyone expected me to break down and make a scene. However, I simply smiled and left a comment under the post. [When are you two having a few kids? I’ll be sure to send over a big gift.] The very next second, my husband, who had been unreachable all day, finally called me. “Brit got pregnant out of wedlock, and the man who did it abandoned her,” he said coldly. “Her parents are extremely traditional. If this gets out, they’ll kill both her and the baby. As a lawyer, don’t you have any compassion for her at all? “Delete that comment right now. Apologize to her personally,” he continued. “Once she gives birth to the child and everything settles, I’ll hold another wedding with you.” I looked down at the divorce papers in my hand. Then, I let out a soft snicker. “No need,” I said. “Mr. Larson, just wait to receive our divorce case.”

I was known all throughout high society as the perfect, obedient daughter. Suitors lined up at my door in droves, yet I insisted on marrying Grayson Thatcher, whose family fortune had crumbled, all because of a promise we made when we were young. I thought we would be partners building a life together, but he fell deeply in love with his childhood sweetheart, a girl who spent her days running wild. The night before our wedding, he went street racing with her and they both got arrested, causing him to miss the ceremony entirely. The scandal made it everywhere. On New Year's Eve, he left me to organize the family banquet alone while he ran off with his childhood sweetheart to some crowded plaza. To see a different display of fireworks, they set fire to balloons people had released into the sky and triggered a massive blaze. Once again, I exhausted every connection I had to get him out of the mess. I cleaned up 999 of his reckless mistakes and kept the Thatcher family's business afloat, making sure he could live without a care in the world. I thought that eventually, he would at least remember some small part of what we meant to each other. Yet when I fell critically ill and needed a heart transplant, he took the only available donor heart and gave it to his childhood sweetheart instead. That was the first time I broke down and demanded answers. He stared at me, cold and unmoved. "You have the nerve to ask me that? If you hadn't forced yourself on me, I would've gotten together with Maeve years ago. You're as stiff as an old lady. How could you ever compare to someone like her? She's full of life. "I've let you play Mrs. Thatcher for over a decade. I was more than generous. Maeve is going to be my wife now. When she dies, we'll be buried together. You won't even get that much." I died consumed by bitterness and rage. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day of the matchmaking event. I picked up the marriage proposal the Thatchers had sent and tore it to pieces. Then, I reached for the one from the wealthiest family in the room and smiled. "Dad, if I have to get married anyway, I might as well marry the man with the most money and power."

I found out my husband, Logan Atkinson, had quietly added his secretary's number to our family plan. [Dear customer, the number ending in 8848 has been successfully added to your family plan. Effective immediately, all calls between plan members are free.] I held up my phone and looked straight at Logan. "You're treating her like family. What does that make me?" He sounded annoyed. "Regina said staying on the phone with me every night was getting expensive. If she's on the family plan, it doesn't cost anything. She's just used to saving money. Don't read into it." Regina said she had severe depression and couldn't fall asleep, so Logan stayed on the phone with her every night for at least seven hours. I stared at the call logs in the family plan. Even on our wedding anniversary, when I closed my eyes, wishing we would make it through another ten years and grow old side by side… He was still on the phone with Regina Dittman, coaxing her to sleep. When I didn't say anything, Logan looked a little surprised. "Wow. Quiet today? Finally learned how to be the bigger person?" I just didn't feel like arguing with them anymore. All those fights before had only proven one thing: he always chose Regina. After ten years in a broken marriage, it was time to set things straight.

Julian Ashford, the golden boy of the city's elite, had his left leg broken by his father with a golf club -- all because of me, a scholarship student. He was stripped of his billion-dollar inheritance and cast out of the family. For three years, he dragged that ruined leg around an auto repair shop, doing backbreaking labor just to scrape together enough for my college tuition. Everyone said I was the luckiest girl alive -- that I'd brought the untouchable heir of a financial empire to his knees, made him willing to live on scraps in the worst part of town. Today was our three-year anniversary. I was carrying the freshly signed Holloway Group inheritance confirmation documents, ready to finally tell him my real identity and pull him out of this misery. I walked down the corridor of The Grand Pavilion, holding a box of vanilla shortbread -- his favorite. Through the half-open door of a private suite, Julian Ashford stood tall on two perfectly healthy legs, dressed in an immaculate tailored suit, sliding a rare pink diamond ring onto the finger of Victoria Sterling -- the city's most celebrated socialite. "Victoria, I used that scholarship girl as a shield to survive three years of my old man's relentless arranged marriage schemes. My body's completely untouched. You've always been the one I was going to marry." I looked down at my own hands, cracked and raw from the cold, and tore the inheritance documents to shreds.

It's been three years since I went against my family to be with my boyfriend, Marvin Stuart. At last, my parents have finally agreed to let me marry him. I rush back to our place at once, eager to share the news with him—only to end up overhearing his conversation with his childhood friend, Camellia Hough. "They're redeveloping the area where my family home is, and we're going to get a huge buyout payment! You can finally abandon that loser and officially be with me now," she declares. "You wouldn't have had to settle for being with her if my family hadn't gone bankrupt back then." Marvin agrees to it right away. "I'll lie to her, saying that my family is in debt, so that she'll break up with me. Let's get married right after that." I swallow down the words I'd been prepared to say and calmly enter the house. Marvin turns to me with a sorrowful expression. "My family owes a debt of five million dollars. I don't want you to have to suffer with me. Let's break up." I nod. "Sure." Soon after, I sent my parents a text. "You don't need to transfer the three buildings to Marvin anymore. Also, call off the redevelopment project on the south side of the city." Since Marvin wants to break up with me, I'll grant him his wish. As it stands, we've always been from two different worlds.

After eight years of dating my boyfriend, Zachary Corington, I finally can't take it anymore and suggest breaking up. Zachary asks, "You're breaking up with me just because I drove over to find you and called your name?" "Yes," I reply. He curls his lips into a mocking smile. "Go on. What do you want this time?" I shake my head and say, "Nothing. I just want you to stop showing up before me."

Gabriel Black and I had grown up together as childhood sweethearts, and when we reached adulthood, our families arranged our engagement. From the day the engagement was announced, I started counting down the days. However, Gabriel thought the whole thing was unfair. “Other people get to fall in love a few times in their lives. Why should I be stuck with just you my whole life? You should date a few people, too. Don’t shortchange yourself.” And he meant it. In the year after our engagement, Gabriel went through seven girlfriends. Every time he changed partners, I would simply smile and say it didn’t matter. After all, I thought he would always come back to me. That was until the eighth girlfriend came along. He brought her to the Black family’s annual banquet. She clung to his arm and called him Gabe. I quietly set down my utensils. Right there in front of both families, I took out the engagement agreement and slid it to the center of the table. “Gabriel,” I said calmly, “you were right. Staying loyal to just one person really is a loss.” Later, I stood before him again, this time with my hand linked with the only son of the Graham family. Gabriel smashed his glass on the spot. For the first time, his eyes turned red. “Erin, what do you mean by this?” I smiled and said, “Didn’t you tell me to try dating, too? Well, I did, and it suits me just fine.”