Mistress Romance Short Stories & Face Slapping Novels

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

My fiance's best friend Cindy Jones was an adult movie director. On the day of our wedding, we exchanged rings when she started yelling, calling me out for starring in adult films. "I've always been saying that Tina Lynd's filth and you shouldn't touch her with a six-foot pole!" Flinging a stack of photos at my face, she snorted. "You want evidence? There! Come take a good look, everyone!" As the guests flocked around for a look, my fiance's mother slapped me across the face after just one look, leaving me tasting blood in my mouth while she shrieked, "How dare you! Forget being a shrew—you'd scam my son too? That's why there's been so many botched weddings!" Indeed, it was the same thing three years ago, when Cindy brought a paid actor claiming to be my husband. My fiance, Sam Zimmer, didn't say a word as he stormed out, and it was not until last year that he came begging for reconciliation after finding out that it was all a misunderstanding. We just sent out the invitation when Cindy showed up, calling me a gold digger who married men to steal all their money, after which Sam canceled the wedding again. And now, with our parents present, she slandered me once more. I clutched my cheek, gritting my teeth as I glared at Sam. "Three times. Do you really care?" He wasn't even looking at me as he was busy patting Cindy's back to calm her down. "Cindy means no harm. She's just worried about you." I kicked the bridal shoes off my feet as I strode to my parents, scoffing, "You can marry her if you trust her that much!"

Days before my wedding, I received a video of my fiancee, Alice Moore, being violated against her will. By the time I find her, she's covered in bruises, her body bare. She wails as she punches me in the chest, demanding to know why I didn't come to her sooner. She says her life has been ruined. As I hold her close, I make her a promise, saying that I would never scorn her. I even promise to give her 10% of my company shares as a wedding gift, hoping that it will put her at ease. Everyone says I've lost my mind for going to such lengths for a woman who has been sullied by another man. But then, I end up overhearing Alice giggling away with her friend in the bathroom. "That fool actually believed me and thought I'd been abducted. Cole and I went at it for three days in a row. I had the best time of my life! Oh, well. Since I can't marry Cole, my only option is to let him be the first man I take to bed before I get married." Miranda exclaims in shock, "What if Luke finds out about it? Aren't you afraid of that happening?" "He's a complete idiot. He even promised to give me his company shares as a wedding gift!" Alice retorted derisively. "There's no way he'd find out about this. I'm only marrying him because his family is one of the richest in the city. Otherwise, you couldn't even pay me to date him. Who would want a guy as boring as him?" I remain frozen outside the bathroom, feeling like I'd just taken a plunge into icy water. So be it, then. The wedding ceremony will proceed as scheduled, but I'll have to make some adjustments as to who the bride will be.

During our beach vacation, my wife, Carla Locke, lets her guy best friend, Alex Dugan, rub sunscreen all over her. "What have you been eating lately? Feels like you've gone up a cup size." The moment I see Alex's hand lingering on Carla's chest, the drink slips from my hand and shatters on the ground. Carla gets upset and tells me off for being so insecure. "We're just messing around. Why do you always overthink everything?" Alex shoots me a challenging look. "Don't be upset, Hubert. Carla and I are just friends. Sometimes, I wish I'd been born a woman. Then, people wouldn't keep misunderstanding our relationship." Carla leans into his embrace and shakes her head as she looks at me. "I wish you'd stop being so sensitive about this. Stop trying to ruin our friendship." However, Carla and Alex don't know that I'm from another world. After completing my mission in the previous world, the system rewards me with one wish. Since they insist they're just best friends, I'll be more than happy to grant his wish to become a woman.

Eight years ago, I fought Joey Kirk for a long time to protect Sylvia Lane. Even though she couldn't speak, I married her against my family's wishes. Eight years later, when our house caught fire, I risked my life to save Sylvia. Yet she pushed me into the flames to protect a puppet that looked just like Joey. "Sylvia, just pretend you can't talk. Please, do it for me. Shane will definitely fall for you." "Okay." A recording Sylvia had kept in a folder labeled "True Love" shattered everything I knew. My so-called love at first sight had been part of a plan from the very beginning. I looked at Sylvia. Even now, she refused to speak and still tried to cover for Joey. My heart ached so badly I could hardly stand it. On the day I decided to leave Sylvia, I received a strange phone call. "Shane, please. Don't leave me. You're all I have."

On the day I was supposed to register the marriage with my girlfriend, the CEO of Whitmore Group, her scheming male assistant stepped in first and handed over his ID. Just like that, the marriage certificate that should have belonged to me and my girlfriend became his and hers instead. All I did was ask a couple of questions. The assistant dropped to his knees in front of me, looking as if his world had ended. “Nathan, this is all my fault. If I hadn’t needed to get my child registered for school, I never would have resorted to something like this and entered a fake marriage with Claire.” Then he started sobbing and tried to slam his head into the wall as if he had to die to make up for it. Claire Whitmore had always been sharp and levelheaded, but this time, instead of saying a word for me, she slapped me across the face in front of everyone. “Ryan is a single father. Everything he did was for his child. Do you really have to be this petty? “It’s just a certificate. Once Ryan’s child is enrolled, I’ll divorce him. What difference does it make if you get yours a little later? Did you really have to push him to the edge? “Get on your knees and apologize to Ryan. Then give him half your salary as compensation. If you behave, I might let you borrow our certificate, take a picture of it, and show it off in your family group chat. Otherwise, don’t even think about getting one with me.” I gave a cold laugh. “Then forget it.” And I did not mean only the certificate. I was done with her, too.

At our wedding, Toby Webb, the impoverished student my fiancee, Elvira Britton, has been sponsoring, barges into the venue while wailing at the top of his lungs. "Elvira, a wasp has stung me down there! Does this mean I won't be able to…" Elvira doesn't hesitate to ditch all the guests and me in favor of whisking Toby away. I quickly grab her wrist and suggest to her that we should finish the ceremony first before finding a doctor to save Toby. But she reacts by shoving me to the floor instead with an enraged look on her face. "Wallace Cochran, if you truly loved me, you wouldn't stop me at this time!" After that, she quickly takes Toby to the lounge in the wedding venue. By the time I arrive at the lounge, I witness Elvira straddling Toby. The very same woman, who had once promised me that she'd preserve her virginity for our wedding night, can be seen glaring at me angrily. "Toby's condition is very severe, you know! How am I supposed to sit by and watch him suffer? It's just virginity, isn't it? Since you want it that badly, I can just get myself repaired and let you try again, can't I?"

I stumbled across an encrypted folder on my husband's phone, filled with photos of a little girl I'd never seen before. From newborn to first steps, sorted by month—two full years' worth. But the child in those photos wasn't our daughter. When I confronted him, he said she was a girl named Rosie from the children's home I sponsored. The director sent growth updates, and he'd been saving them for me. I never imagined that my warm, thoughtful husband would use my charity to spin a lie. Because every single photo was geotagged to the apartment complex next to his office. And the children's home was on the other side of the city. I didn't call him out right then. Because I wanted to know whose child she really was.

While my wife was away on a business trip, I took a detour and ran into a wedding procession blocking the road. The groom was giving a speech, his voice trembling as it rose with every sentence. He wanted to tell his late parents that he had finally married the girl of his dreams. A crowd had gathered around them, cheering him on and blocking traffic. The scene was very moving. Even though I was in a hurry, I stopped and waited for the procession to pass. Then, someone in the crowd shouted, "Sinead, you have to treat him well from now on." The bride made a sweet vow. "If I ever hurt or mistreat him, then I've gone against everything I believe in. If we're not meant to be, I'd rather remain alone, because he'll always be the only man I've ever loved." Sinead… What a coincidence! That was my wife's name, too! Even her voice sounded a little like hers. The two of them were almost sickeningly sweet together, and the crowd kept cheering. The groom bowed gratefully. Finally, everyone moved aside, and I could drive past. Only then did I see the bride clearly. It was my wife. And she had seen me, too. Her business trip had actually been a trip to marry another man.

At the welcome-home party for Geoffrey Flaig’s childhood sweetheart, Melinda Sommer, his friends started a game of Spin the Bottle. The first few rounds were harmless. They were only changing their profile pictures into ugly photos of themselves, kissing the person next to them, or confessing to the person they hated the most. When the bottle landed on Selena Brodie, they pulled out the divorce papers between her and Geoffrey and dared her to sign them. “Selena, we dare you to sign it!” She stayed motionless for a long time. She just stared at the line where he had already signed his name. The signature looked bold and flamboyant, and the ink had long since dried. Seeing this, Melinda stood up and pointed at the bottle of strong liquor on the table. “Selena, if you’re too chicken, chug this bottle.” Everyone at the table knew that Selena was allergic to alcohol. Even Geoffrey, who had always been protective of her and had never let her touch a single drop, looked at her with a frown and said, “It’s just a game. Don’t be a spoilsport.”

Grandma lay bedridden, her dementia taking hold as she repeated Scarlett Hayes's name over and over. Tears streamed down my face as I dialed my wife's number. When she picked up, Scarlett sounded irritated. She said she was working late tonight and would call me back when she was free. I could clearly hear the sound of a man's laughter in the background. The moment I hung up, Grandma gasped sharply. She called out my wife's name. It was her last breath. While I sat drowning in grief, Scarlett's male best friend Chase Morrison posted a video update, geotagged at a couples' hotel. In the video, their fingers were laced together. The woman's arm bore a distinctive black mole I recognized instantly. The caption read: "When two hearts become one, why care what anyone else thinks?" In that moment, my heart turned to ash. I gritted my teeth and left a comment. "Let's file for divorce tomorrow. Then you two can be together openly and legally. You'll even save on the hotel fees. Win-win, right?"

The night my in-laws were rushed to the hospital after a car accident, I hurried over to handle the situation. At the payment counter, I swiped my card—only to find that the joint account I shared with my husband had a mere two dollars left. I called my husband, Zarrick Thompson, over and over again. But he never picked up. It wasn't until later that I learned the truth—he had taken our money to celebrate his first love's birthday. Desperate, I borrowed seventy thousand from a friend to save my in-laws. But after they recovered, they flat-out denied everything. My husband, meanwhile, made no attempt to hide his relationship with her. He wanted me gone. To force me into a divorce, he went as far as setting me up—staging an affair, taking photos of me being humiliated. Then he used them to threaten me. Either I walked away with nothing, shouldering all our debts, or he would ruin me completely. I worked endlessly, day and night, to pay it all off. Until, one winter, I collapsed in a frozen alley and never got up again. But when I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day of the accident.

During the summer vacation, I go overseas with my boyfriend, Cornell Glover, to attend his favorite music festival that is called the Tuchella Music Festival. When we are lining up to go into the venue under the sweltering heat of 86F, I go to the vendors nearby to buy him some iced bottled water. But by the time I get back, Cornell is gone. To make things worse, my digital ticket shows that it has already been checked in. Anxious, I call him and ask, "Have you gone in? Why does my ticket show that I've checked in?" Cornell replies, "Oh. I ran into Ellie Valdez, the intern from our department, just now. She was crying at the entrance because she couldn't get a ticket, so I gave yours to her." "Are you crazy? I was the one who got us those VIP front-row seats!" I exclaim. "Come on. It's not like you're interested in rock music. You'd just be scrolling on your phone after you get in. Ellie is a diehard fan. Don't you think you should let someone who appreciates the music have this instead?" Cornell says nonchalantly. I am so shocked that I don't know what to say. After a few seconds, I say in disbelief, "So you left me out here, all alone, for an intern's sake?" Cornell sounds dismissive as he says, "You can hear the music from outside anyway. Just find somewhere to sit and wait until the music festival ends. Don't be so selfish." I listen to the long, monotonous beep after he hangs up on me for a moment before calling my lead singer brother right away.

By the time my prenatal appointment is over, my legs are barely holding me up. I drag myself out of the hospital and text my husband, Ethan Mercer. "I've been at the hospital all day. I'm exhausted." It takes him half an hour to reply. "What's that supposed to mean? You want me to reimburse you for the appointment?" I stare at the message, unable to process it. Ethan's first love, Chloe Hart, walked out on him when he had nothing. She took every cent he'd saved and married a wealthy man instead. Ever since then, Ethan has despised women who care about money. So, for six years, I've gone out of my way to prove I'm nothing like her. We split everything equally. Dinner. Rent. The down payment on our house. Even after I got pregnant, I never asked Ethan to pay a cent toward my prenatal care. Then, I see Chloe's latest post. She's showing off a fresh manicure, along with screenshots of her conversation with Ethan. "Pick your favorite diamond." "Want naming rights? Better send me a nice big gift. Five figures minimum!" Below it is Ethan's transfer of 3,000,000 dollars. His teasing reply read, "If you hadn't left me six years ago, would you really have to ask me for pocket change like this now?" That's when it finally hits me. Ethan doesn't hate women who act spoiled. He doesn't even hate women spending his money. He just hates it when that woman is me. I slip my medical report into my bag and text my attorney. "Please draw up the divorce papers." Our relationship has been about splitting the bill since our very first date. It's time to settle the final account.

On my first day at a new hospital, I treated a pregnant woman in critical condition. With the nurses’ help, we stabilized her condition and safely delivered her baby. As soon as she could speak, she reached for her phone. Her voice was filled with pride as she said, “Honey, I gave birth to a son!” The voice that came through the speaker made me freeze. “Baby, you’re amazing!” Those few words were enough to send me spiraling into despair. I had known that voice for ten years. It belonged to my husband, Liam Stretton.

For ten years, I stand by Robert Lopez's side, watching him rise from the trenches of obscurity to the blinding heights of superstardom. But on the night he clinches the Best Actor award, he drops to one knee and proposes to a starlet he's known for less than ten days. Those eyes that are so full of love and devotion, no matter who they're looking at, turn cold and threatening for the first time. "Danielle, I've slept with her, so I need to take responsibility. You're willing to stay by my side without a title or a promise, but she can't. She needs a sense of security." A bitter laugh escapes me. That's when I finally understand that love has nothing to do with time. But hear this, Robert. Just because I've waited for you for ten years doesn't mean I deserve to be treated like trash or that you're the only man for me.

When I'm paying the pension for my jobless wife, Lilith Ingram, I accidentally find out that she's had a job this whole time. She's paid a salary of two thousand dollars, which is wired into her personal bank account. Every month, the money will be transferred elsewhere, leaving her without a single cent. I've never seen the money before. Back when our daughter, Maisy Ingram, was severely ill, we were 200 dollars short to pay for her hospital bills. I was so poor that I had to sell my blood and beg everyone around me just to get them to lend me money. But during that time, Lilith never thought of sharing the burden with me. She merely comforted me with empty words before transferring two thousand dollars to her first love, Hayden Grant, the next day. Our marriage of 30 years is reduced to nothing but a laughingstock. I place the divorce agreement that I've printed out in front of Lilith. It's a silent confrontation between us. "Must you really resort to this method?" Lilith snaps impatiently. "It's just two thousand dollars! You have an annual salary of 200 thousand dollars! Why care so much about chum change?" Even Maisy takes her side by calling me a petty, stingy geezer. "Everyone has an unattainable first love when they're still young! You should be grateful that Hayden has been holding back his urges without crossing the line for so many years!" I feel as though I got struck by lightning at that moment. It's then that I belatedly realize I'm the only outsider in this family. "Getting a divorce is fine by me. Hayden's getting on with the years. I just want to take care of him and send him off when his time eventually arrives." Maisy adapts a righteous tone. "As compensation for me, I get the house, the car, and the savings. You're leaving this marriage without a single cent under your name."

I suspected my husband's young assistant had signed up for some kind of socialite training program, all so she could try to become his mistress. She didn't call him "Mr. Anderson." She called him "Cocoa" because he loved drinking mocha lattes. It was her way of making herself seem special. Whenever he assigned her work, she didn't even move. She would just throw him a flirtatious look, twist her body into some exaggerated pose, and say, "What, you need me?" with a pout. In the end, I couldn't take it anymore. I told Perry Anderson to fire her. The second I said it, Faye Dawson leaned right into his ear and whined, "I know, I messed up. Don't be mad. I'll give you a kiss and make it better, okay?" And somehow, Perry actually fell for it. He smoothed things over like it was nothing. "Honey, Faye's a socialite. That's just how she is. Try to be a little more understanding." Fine. If he wanted to protect that fake socialite and throw away the real one, then he could forget about the billion-dollar contract from my father.

On Christmas Eve, my childhood friend's mom suddenly laughed and tried to set me up with her son, George Allen. My face flushed hot, and I was about to tell her we’d actually been secretly dating for two years. However, before I could even open my mouth, George cut me off in a panic. "Mom, stop playing matchmaker! I already have a girlfriend. In fact... we’re planning to get married this year." He gave me a guilty look. "Madison, you should hurry up and find someone too. Don't waste your time..." Tears stung my eyes, nearly spilling over. So this was the real reason he had insisted on keeping our relationship a secret all this time. Biting my lip until it bled, I forced back the tears and managed a cold, breezy smile. "What are you talking about? My boyfriend and I are actually planning to get married this year, too."

Nikolai Edevane and I had grown up together in a psychiatric hospital. We were childhood sweethearts who had known each other since we were young. Everyone in our circle said the Edevane family had raised a pair of vicious monsters, and no one dared cross us. "Anthea, monsters that crawl out of Hell are meant to stick together. Neither of us will ever be allowed to leave the other." On Nikolai's birthday, I helped him complete the final piece of his business empire. What I received in return was news that our twin sons had died in a car accident. The chauffeur had been drunk and fled the scene. On the eve of the trial, Nikolai set off fireworks across the entire city to celebrate his "recovery." Then, he took a pregnant woman by the hand and brought her before me. "Daphne is the only light in my life. She saved me. This ends here! Stop making a scene!" My eyes were bloodshot with grief and rage. "Nikolai, your sons died!" Nikolai said quietly, "Our sons may be dead, but you still have me. You still have your status as Mrs. Edevane. We'll have plenty more children in the future. However, Daphne only has her father left in this world."