Cerita Pendek Plot Twists Romance & Novel Scumbag Face Slapping

After I get detained in the police station, my husband, Gavin Pratt, specifically comes over to bail me out. But I grip a policeman's arm without letting go. "I'm the one who did it! Hurry up and arrest me!" In my previous life, I was surrounded by the family members of a car crash victim. A bar owner and a saleswoman who sold cosmetics were there as well. They claimed that I had gone into a drunken frenzy and stole perfume from the store. On top of that, I even ran a red light and hit someone with my car. I kept explaining the truth to everyone, yet no one believed me. Instead, they all had me surrounded and beat me up till I died. When I wake up again, I've returned to the day I'm detained inside the police station.

I’d been married to my husband James for three years. On Valentine’s Day, he gave his stepsister, Mia, one hundred and eighty thousand dollars, along with millions in jewelry. I, on the other hand, received a free bouquet of roses. When I didn’t look thrilled, he accused me of being a gold digger. “Mia never had anyone to care for her growing up. Why are you competing with her? Isn’t being Mrs. Smith enough to feed your vanity?” Furious, I stormed out of the house. When a car lost control and came barreling toward me, he instinctively rushed to protect Mia, who was standing a full ten feet from the road. I was the one who ended up in the hospital. Lying in that bed, I finally gave up. I signed the divorce papers without hesitation. “Giving up the title of Mrs. Smith is the dumbest decision you’ll ever make,” he told me, looking down at me from above before walking away. Seven years later, we met again. He took one glance at my simple dress and laughed out loud. I didn’t bother to respond. I just held my daughter close and waited for her father—the richest man in the city—to arrive.

The day before the wedding, my fiancé did not show up for the rehearsal. That night, I received a few text messages from him: [Ruby is pregnant. The child isn’t mine.] [But I have to marry her first so that the baby can be registered properly.] [Let’s postpone the wedding for another three years. Don’t contact me during this time.] [Figure out how to explain it to both our families. Whatever you do, don’t damage Ruby’s reputation… Just tell everyone you don't want to get married for now.] I only replied with one word: [Okay.] I no longer wanted this marriage anyway.

The day before my birthday, my boyfriend, Jayden York, went to an amateur surfing competition with my best friend, Regina Quimby. They left in high spirits, but came back injured. When I reached Regina's room at the hospital, I saw them making fun of each other's casts. The moment Regina saw me, she immediately looked like she was about to cry. "Gabrielle, I was going to take first place and give you the medal and prize money as your birthday present, but I never expected…" Jayden scoffed and cut her off. "You? Take first place? With skills like yours? If I hadn't reacted quickly, that wave would've swept you away!" For the next ten minutes or so, they argued over who's the better surfer, just like they always did. I had no idea what they were talking about, and I couldn't get a word in. All I could do was sit there awkwardly and laugh along. Just when I realized that I was starting to feel like I was in the way, a nurse pushed open the door and called out, "Is anyone here with Regina Quimby? Someone needs to take care of her bill!" "Right here!" Jayden answered. Before I could even react, Jayden walked over with his injured arm held against his chest and took Regina's admission paperwork from the nurse. He stepped up to handle the bill for her, acting like her family member. Regina first apologized for not being able to celebrate my birthday with me. When she mentioned Jayden, she sighed. "I'm so jealous you found such a great boyfriend." "Then why don't you take him?" I retorted. Regina froze. She let out an awkward laugh and asked if I'm joking. I couldn't bring myself to laugh. I forced a smile and said, "I'm not joking."

During our engagement banquet, Samuel Hill, my fiance, has the nerve to put our marital home up as a prize in an anonymous draw. Nathan Ziegler, my childhood friend, smiles and says, "Samuel prepared this surprise for you, Charlotte." Ultimately, Naomi Sutton, Samuel's first love, gets the marital home from the draw. I, on the other hand, receive a box from Samuel's assistant, and inside it is a photo of the three of us. There is even a message on the back. "I hope that you remember that the three of us grew up together." In that instant, everyone in the room falls into silence. Samuel wraps an arm around Naomi's shoulder and says, "It's just a game, Charlotte. You're not going to make a big deal out of it, are you?" Nathan tries to reason with me as well. "Naomi just returned from abroad, so she doesn't have a place to stay. You should let her have it for now, Charlotte." I later notice a message on Samuel's phone. It was from the host of the banquet. "Mr. Hill, per your instructions, Ms. Sutton gets the marital home, and Ms. Gardner gets the keepsake." Samuel merely replied, "Got it." I smash the framed photo right at Samuel's feet in front of everyone and say, "The engagement banquet is canceled." I refuse to go along with this performance designed to humiliate me.

I'd been with Leo Abernathy for five years, and his ex-girlfriend, Cressida Hollingsworth, had spent those same five years trying to come between us. Cressida bet me that Leo would always choose her over me. She had dragged me into a pool and forced me to stand with her on a rooftop ledge, all to make Leo choose between us. Every time, Leo held on to my hand. After her ninth failed attempt, Cressida finally gave up. She stopped coming near me and stopped texting Leo. She even left our social circle, quit her job, and started going on blind dates. I thought I'd finally won the five-year battle. Then, on our wedding day, the wedding coordinator announced the groom's entrance six times, but Leo never showed up. When he finally showed up, he looked frantic. "Cressida is about to marry a man she's met only once on a blind date. We have to cancel the wedding. I need to stop her." I stared at him, suddenly realizing what a joke these five years had been. He'd chosen me the first nine times. But on our wedding day, he chose Cressida. I pulled off my ring and hid it in my palm. "Cressida and I made a bet. If you're choosing her, then we're done for good."

The male lead I picked out, James Linden, doesn't love me anymore. He's broken away from the and has fallen in love with the secondary female lead, Yvette West. On the day of our wedding, he insists on making things official with her. "You've gone mad, James! We arranged your marriage to Mia with the Churchill family ages ago!" James' father, Jack Linden, yells angrily at him. He attempts to stop James, but the latter has already gotten carried away and is poised to escape alongside Yvette. I sigh as I listen to the system clamoring in my ears, informing me that the romance between the male and female leads has been ruined. "Then, let's just choose another male lead," I say tiredly, looking around until my gaze lands on a man with delicate features. "He'll do," I declare. James still thinks that as long as he breaks free from the main plot and loves Yvette boldly, he can turn her into the female lead. However, he doesn't know that I'm the one who decides who gets to be the male lead.

On the day I miscarried and suffered from haemorrhage, my husband posted a photo of a newborn’s tiny feet on his Instagram Story. The caption read: “Welcome, little angel. Daddy will always protect you.” With trembling hands, I called him. “The baby’s gone. Can you come to the hospital?” On the other end, I heard a baby crying, followed by the man’s impatient voice. “In that case, take good care of yourself. Louise just gave birth and needs someone to care for her. I can’t leave. “Besides, the dead shouldn’t compete with the living for affection. Got it?” He hung up right after. I broke down alone on the hospital bed, and when I finally wiped away my tears, I dialed the number of his sworn enemy, Levi Snow. “Marry me, and the entire Wright Corporation will be my dowry. All I want is for you to bring Finn Yeaton down. Do we have a deal?”

My husband Jim Sully and I kept our finances separate. We lived our own lives and stayed out of each other's way. Today, he suddenly decided to compare our savings. "In three years, I saved 300,000 dollars. That's pretty impressive, right? If I had handed my paycheck over to you back then, you'd have blown it all!" I smiled without saying a word and tossed my bank card onto the table. It held a seven-figure balance. "Right back at you." Suddenly, he exploded in anger. "Are you taking advantage of me? Half of that 1 million dollars is mine!" When I didn't answer, he snapped, "You take 30 minutes to shower, while I take five minutes. That's not fair!" He said we had to split the cost of everything from the past three years all over again. "You use more water, so you have to pay more!" My expression darkened as I pointed at the cherries. "One, two, three…" I added, "I bought 40 cherries for 10 dollars. You ate 18, so you owe me 4.50 dollars." "We're married! You're seriously keeping track of how much fruit I eat?" Jim snapped. His expression darkened. "Fine, then. Let's split the cost of all the emotional support you've gotten from me over the past three years too!"

I started calling my brother "Mr. Quinn" and my childhood friend "Mr. Webb". They frown and ask why I'm being so formal with them. I smile faintly in response. "Because I think you would rather be associated with Vanessa Quinn." They scold me for being unreasonable. "Vanessa is about to marry a man in a coma for you, and her whole life will be ruined. The only reason we treat her so well is because you owe her." But what they don't know is that the one marrying a man in a coma this time isn't Vanessa. It's me—Willow Quinn.

It's our fifth wedding anniversary. I've booked a table at a riverside restaurant and set my pregnancy test report right in the center of the table. 9:00 pm comes and goes with no sign of my husband, Yosef Sinclair. Just as I reach for my phone, the cake delivery person texts to ask for my location. I send it over, then call Yosef. A ringtone chimes right behind me. I turn around and see Yosef walking in, looking sharp in his suit. I'm about to nag him for being late until I see him holding a cake box and answering his phone. "I'm working. I'll—" Before he finishes speaking, he visibly pauses, then asks in a low voice, "You ordered this? Meeting friends? Just don't stay out too late." He sets the cake down right on top of my test report and turns on his heel. All that I'm left with is the sight of his retreating figure. A moment later, his voice floats back in from outside. "Nobody. Come on. Let's just finish this last order, and I'll treat you to a nice dinner today!" I look out the window. Yosef is getting into a car with Clara Lawson, the bakery owner. She slips into the passenger seat like she's done it a thousand times. A minute later, my phone vibrates. I tap it open with my numb fingers. It's a new Instagram post from Clara, showing a pink rose bouquet with a sliver of a black suit in the background. The caption reads, "A guy who buys me flowers, works overtime with me, and takes me out for dinner? He's a keeper!" I like the post, put my phone down, and quietly tell the waiter to bring out the food. I've spent three months trying to snag a table at this place. No way am I letting good food go to waste. Besides, I'm leaving this city in three days and putting an end to this broken marriage.

To surprise my husband for his birthday while he was away on a business trip, I boarded a flight to East Harbor Bay alone. A woman draped in head-to-toe designer tweed, with diamond bracelets stacked along one wrist, splashed iced cranberry juice all over my cashmere coat. All I did was glance up at her. Her face looked vaguely familiar, but before I could say a word, she started shrieking. "What are you looking at? Who do you think you are, staring at me like that?" I almost laughed from sheer disbelief. "Excuse me, you're the one who spilled your drink on me. I haven't even said anything, and you're already throwing a fit?" The passengers around us turned to look, but the woman only lifted her chin higher. "I'll have you all know that my husband owns Winslow Holdings. Anyone who dares take her side today will never work on the East Coast again!" I froze. Winslow Holdings was the company my grandfather, Henry Winslow, had built from the ground up, and my family trust still owned it. How could it possibly belong to her husband?

The day before our engagement, my fiancé told me he wanted to take me on a trip around the world first. Yet the moment we landed in northern Manchernius, he and the woman he'd always been in love with tied me up and shoved me into a car. As we drove farther on, the surroundings became increasingly familiar. I started trembling uncontrollably and begged them to stop the car and let me go home. Yale Zane only sneered at my pleas. "Stop wasting your breath. Once we sell you off to one of the compounds, there'll be no one left to stand between me and her." I burst into tears. The problem was, I wasn't the one who was doomed. They were. This was my childhood friend's turf! I'd spent years trying everything I could think of to escape him. After finally making it back home, the last thing I'd expected was to be delivered right back into his hands.

On our marriage registration day, my fiancé Harry stood me up. "Evelyn's cat went missing. She's on the rooftop sobbing her eyes out, and I have to be there to support her emotionally. We can do it another day." Everyone around me expected me to throw a fit. Instead, I calmly replied, "Sure. Go be her emotional support person." I turned around and went directly to a pawn shop. I then traded my engagement ring for eight grand. That night, he came home covered in cat hair and tried to guilt-trip me. I simply opened my Venmo app. "So you're going to be someone else's emotional support companion? Then let's put a price on it. Twenty bucks an hour, plus a penalty for standing me up on our marriage registration day. Pay up! "Think it's too expensive? Fine. I'll clear out half the house instead. And while I'm at it, I'll take the left shoe of every pair of your limited-edition designer shoes!"

Shortly after our wedding, my husband, Lucas Whitmore, got into a car crash that left him paralyzed. For over forty years, I gave up everything to take care of him. However, it wasn’t until the day he passed away that I discovered the sickening truth. In his will, he left every single cent to his high school crush. I was evicted from the home I’d called mine for decades. Shaking and leaning heavily on my cane, I dragged myself to a lawyer’s office to reclaim my legal share of the estate as his widow. That was when they dropped the second bomb: he had secretly divorced me years ago. Before I could even process the shock, Lucas’ high school crush, Lily Collins, showed up to rub salt in the wound. "You really had no idea, did you?" She sneered, leaning in close. "Lucas was so worried I wouldn't be able to support myself. He didn’t just find me a high-paying job. He transferred all his money, plus every single paycheck you earned over the years, straight into my account." She continued, "Oh, and remember how he never wanted kids with you? That was because we already had a son together. Honestly, I should thank you for paying to raise our boy." Rage boiled over inside me. My pulse thundered in my ears. Before I could do anything, Lily lunged forward. She grabbed a handful of my hair, yanking my head back, and drove her sharp nails deep into my face. That night, her son hired a gang of thugs to corner me in an alley. They threw a burlap sack over my head and beat me to death, laughing while I spat up blood. Then, my eyes snapped open. I was staring at my husband. He was young again, his legs newly paralyzed, his eyes rimmed red as he stared at me with a pathetic, tragic expression. "Scarlett, the doctor said I’m never going to walk again," Lucas whined, his voice trembling, "What am I supposed to do if I can't get a job?" I quietly slid the debit card I had been about to hand him back into my pocket. A cold laugh ripped from my throat. "What are you supposed to do? I guess you can lie there and starve, and I'll throw you a real nice funeral when you're done."

The heart that I had waited two years for was given to the fake heiress, Diane Bishop, by my husband. The doctor said that I only had a week left to live. So, I decided to undergo cryonics. I donated my body to Diane’s workshop. The day I signed the donation papers, my son threw himself into my arms and exclaimed that I had finally made up with Diane. My parents praised me for finally being a good sister to help out Diane. My husband was pleased when he said that I had finally let go of the grudge and had become more understanding. I chuckled. They were right, I had finally learned my lesson. I would give Diane my identity as the heir of Bishop Corporation and fulfill everyone’s wishes.

Three months into the planning of our wedding, Jacob River, my fiancé, suddenly started trending on Twitter. But it was not because he had finally given me the grand wedding he had long promised. Instead, it was because a certain romantic novel was published. It depicted the three years Jacob spent dating Rain Stone, his first love during high school. Not only was Jacob’s real name used, explicit imagery was also used to talk about how they had passionately made out on the roof, how they had touched each other in an empty classroom, and how they explored each other’s bodies in the sports equipment room. There were also tons of high-definition photos attached. In his uniform, Jacob had a doting expression and youthful liveliness I had never seen before. My blood ran cold, and I grabbed my phone to go to him for an explanation. He just gave it a nonchalant look and said, “It’s just a memoir about things in the past. Why are you fussing over nothing? I’ll have my assistant contact the publishers to remove it from the shelves.” The trending hashtag was soon removed, and the book was banned from stores. But one night, I woke up from thirst. There was no one beside me, but I could see light through the crack of the study. For some reason, I went closer and peered through the crack, and something there made my blood run cold. Jacob had always been restrained when it came to physical intimacy, but he was touching himself while looking at the photo of the sports equipment room in the book.

We're at a department dinner when Logan Gilroy tags me in the work group chat. We've been secretly dating for five years. "Everyone else already paid their share without me having to ask. Do I really have to chase you down for yours?" My best friend, Grace Hopkins, immediately posts a screenshot showing she's already paid. "Ashley, are you having money trouble or something? If you really can't afford your share, I can cover it for you." Within seconds, my coworkers start piling on. "I've never seen anyone so shameless. Mr. Gilroy actually had to call you out in the group chat just to get you to pay your share!" "If you can't afford to eat out, then don't come. She probably only showed up because she wanted an excuse to get close to Mr. Gilroy." "At least Grace knows what's appropriate. No wonder Mr. Gilroy always looks out for her." The boyfriend I've kept secret for five years is humiliating me in front of the entire department, and my best friend is right there backing him up. A new post pops up on my feed. Grace has posted a screenshot showing that Logan returned her payment. Her caption reads, "Dinner with him means I never have to split the bill." Logan likes the post almost immediately and comments, "You showed up, so there's no way I'm letting you pay." I swallow hard, my finger hovering over the screen for a long moment. Then Logan tags me in the work group chat again. "We're not close enough for me to be treating you to dinner, are we, Ms. Leith?" After a long moment, I open the shopping app and cancel the anniversary gift I ordered for him. Then I transfer him my share and post a screenshot in the group chat. Apparently, we're not that close after all. Our fifth anniversary hardly seems worth celebrating now.

At a major press conference, my husband, Julian Winslow, is about to publicly introduce me as the love of his life when his young assistant suddenly walks onto the stage carrying a girl. "Go on, sweetheart. Daddy's calling for you." The room erupts. Reporters start firing questions about Julian's relationship with his assistant, but instead of correcting them, Julian simply takes the little girl into his arms and fastens the company's multimillion-dollar new necklace around her neck. "Yes," he says. "We have a daughter." As I stand silently in the crowd, the reporters turn their attention to me. "Ms. Aldridge, you've been with Mr. Winslow and the company for years. Surely you have something to say on such a special occasion?" I smile. Then I take the designs I spent an entire year perfecting and toss them straight into the assistant's hands. "You can have the designs too. Consider them my gift to your happy little family."

I'm widely regarded as one of the best dreamwalkers in the field. For five years, I've paved the path to success for my CEO boyfriend, Silas Kielsburn, with the help of my dreamwalking skills. Alas, on the anniversary of our relationship, Silas insists on signing a 20-million-dollar financing deal after reading the dreamwalking interpretation drafted by my archnemesis, Maisie Caldwell. He completely disregards my many attempts to warn him that my dreamwalking interpretation shows the terrible danger looming over him in his dream. "Cassiopeia Vale, look at how selfless Maisie is! Her dreamwalker interpretations are the only things that can bestow golden opportunities upon me! Only a dreamwalker who's as pure-hearted and noble as she is is befitting as my wife!" After that, Silas smashes the fortune-shifting crystal I've gifted to him before proposing to Maisie. I respond by demanding the unpaid dreamwalking fees worth hundreds of thousands of dollars Silas has accumulated during the past five years. However, I end up getting cornered by the thugs he has hired in an alley. In fact, I almost lose my life there. Five years later, I chance upon Silas once again at a university anniversary celebration. By then, he's already a rising star in the tech industry. At the moment, he has an arm wrapped around Maisie, who's now an influencer known for her dreamwalking knowledge that she's stolen from me. Their popularity knows no bounds. As for me, I'm currently kneeling by a flower bed while rummaging through the lawn. "Remember how you refused to tell me the entirety of the dreamwalking interpretation back then, Cassiopeia? To think that you've fallen so far from grace to the point that you're looking for crumbling stones in the shrubs! "Even if you turned the lawn upside down, you and I will never get back together!" I completely tune Silas out. After all, my son has accidentally lost the crystal that I've given to his father as a love token. I need to find it as soon as possible. Otherwise, my extremely doting husband will definitely teach him a painful lesson at home tonight.