Plot Twists Short Stories & Scheming Face Slapping Novels

Five minutes before the ceremony, I called off the wedding. In my last life, right in the middle of our vows, Sandra Crowe suddenly demanded another 300 thousand dollars as a "marriage guarantee." She pulled out her phone in front of everyone, chin tipped up, a payment screen glowing. "Three hundred thousand! Not a dollar less, or I'm not putting on that ring." Ten years together, and we were right at the finish line. I forced myself to go through with it and transferred the money. It was what Dad had scraped together over two years for his kidney transplant. That same night, his condition crashed. I went to Sandra and asked if she could lend me the money back for his treatment. She yelled at me instead. "You're asking me for money on our wedding night? Seriously? That 300 grand is mine! Don't even think about touching it!" Dad missed his window and died in the hospital hallway. The day he died, Sandra was out shopping with her friends, dropping thousands on a Chanel bag without a second thought. "Good. One less burden. At least he won't drag us down anymore." When I filed for divorce, she brought her guy friend to the funeral and made a scene, knocking over Dad's urn and damaging the headstone. Then she turned around and accused me of sexual assault, demanding 500 thousand in damages. Mom couldn't take it. She drank pesticide and died. On my way to pursue the case, I was hit by a car. When I opened my eyes again, I called off the wedding. Then Sandra stepped closer, already pulling up her payment screen. "Transfer me three hundred thousand as a marriage guarantee, or we're not getting married." I tossed the ring into the trash. "Works for me."

In my past life, my sister, Kyra Wood, and I got married at the same time. My husband, Callum Gray, was a navy captain, while hers was a farm director. Both of our husbands shared the same childhood friend—Eliana Sullivan. Kyra and I had the same blood type as Eliana. After she got into an accident, we both donated blood to her. When she woke up, she unexpectedly started being able to hear the thoughts of Kyra and me. Callum and I got into an argument, and I wanted him to apologize. However, Eliana told him that I'd never forgive him, even if I died. On Kyra's wedding anniversary, she decided to ask her husband, Anthony Stone, for a bicycle. However, Eliana told Anthony that Kyra wanted a sports car. Callum thought my personality was too fiery and decided to divorce me. Anthony thought Kyra was too much of a spendthrift and divorced her as well. My sister and I were abandoned and lived in loneliness for the rest of our lives—until we died. When I open my eyes again, I realize that Kyra and I have been reborn. This time, Callum and Anthony can hear our thoughts too.

My best friend tagged me under some thirst-trap guy's post. [Holy crap, he looks exactly like your ex!] I thought she was joking around, but the more I looked at the half-naked muscle guy, the more familiar he seemed. [What a coincidence. He IS my ex.] After Oliver Holden and I broke up, I blocked him on everything. It turned out he had started posting thirst traps online instead. He dumped a lot of money into boosting his videos. Eventually, my best friend stumbled across him. The bad news was that he also stumbled across my response video.

At a highway service area, the man parked in the next space points under his van and shouts that it's leaking fuel and is about to explode. I am a veteran auto mechanic with ten years of experience. Without hesitation, I slide under the vehicle and, within ten seconds, clamp off the fuel line. The moment I crawl back out, I catch the smell of mineral water. The owner, Billy Dickson, immediately pulls out his phone and starts a livestream while several of his accomplices pin me against the hood. "Watch this, everyone! We set the perfect trap and caught a gang of catalytic converter thieves! See how smoothly he got under the chassis? He's obviously a repeat offender. Every missing part at this service area has to be his doing!" Covered in dirt and grease, I try to explain to the crowd that I only cut the line because I thought the vehicle was about to catch fire and endanger everyone nearby. Billy spits a thick wad of phlegm right onto my shoe. "Who asked you to stick your nose into my business? You crawled under my van because you wanted to steal parts! Either you pay for a brand-new vehicle today, or I'll hand you over to the police and make sure you rot in prison!" Not wanting to delay getting my wife, who's about to go into labor, to the hospital, I grit my teeth and transfer them 20,000 dollars to settle the matter privately. Three days later, on a long downhill stretch of a winding mountain road, Billy's van completely loses its brakes. Black smoke pours from the tires. He recognizes my car and frantically blares the horn. Rolling down his window, he begs me to tell him how to survive. I simply press down on the accelerator and widen the distance between us, my face completely expressionless. "Back for another livestream to chase views? Give me a break. To prove I'm not a car thief, I already threw my wrenches into the river. You'll have to figure out for yourself how to jump out of the van."

My mother married into the powerful High family, and she always said it wasn’t about wealth; it was about love. That marriage got me transferred into the most elite private school in Kingsford. Before my first day, my mother handed me an expensive box of chocolates flown in from Moris and told me to give them to the stepbrother I had never met before. “He’s the most handsome guy in the class next door,” she said. So, I found the best-looking boy in school and sweetly called him my brother. For months, I shamelessly rode on his popularity and acted like I had a VIP pass to life. Until one day, I caught sight of the name written across the cover of his textbook. His last name was York. Hold on. Wasn’t my mother supposed to have married into the High family?

Right before my sugar daddy’s untouchable first love was about to return, he told me to get along with her. “She knows about us?” I ask. David nodded. “I told her. Anyway, we’ll be living together.” I take a sharp breath. After all, was this first love really that open-minded? As a diligent and professional sugar baby, I’d do my absolute best to win her over. [Baby, I’m David’s sugar baby. The three of us living well together is what matters most.] [Baby, don’t worry. I have a very high tolerance for morally questionable situations!] We chatted enthusiastically for an entire month until she returned. Wait. Wasn’t the man standing in front of me, over six feet tall, David’s sworn enemy?

Not only am I the youngest son of the Townsend family, which runs a multibillion-dollar business empire, but I'm also infamously known as the dimwit in our social circle. Since childhood, I've always been slow and unresponsive, barely able to talk. Meanwhile, every one of my siblings is a certified genius. Evelyn Townsend, my oldest sister, makes a name for herself in the financial world at just 18 years old. Julian Townsend, my older brother and the second child of the family, earns two doctorate degrees by the age of 20. My parents have had a hard time believing I'm really a Townsend. They've had me undergo 18 DNA tests, consulting every renowned doctor and specialist they could find. Nevertheless, after spending over a decade exhausting all their options, the family has finally accepted the situation. The truth is, I'm perfectly capable of talking. I just don't feel like doing it. In my previous life, I was a star lawyer who had never lost a case. I'd spoken more than my fair share of words in that lifetime. In this one, all I want is to live a quiet, peaceful life without ever having to talk. Then this happens. Someone launches a short-selling attack on Townsend Corporation, and my family's company is on the verge of bankruptcy. Our business rival shows up with an acquisition contract. Dad's face turns ashen, and Evelyn goes through every clause without finding a single loophole. Even Gina Whitman, the company's chief legal counsel who has worked with us for a decade now, has already been bought off. She stands in front of us with a look of righteous conviction and declares, "You should sign the contract, Mr. Townsend. This is the only way to save the Townsend family. I've reviewed the terms. There's nothing wrong with them." Dad sighs heavily before reaching for the pen with a trembling hand. Annoyed, I decide to drop the act. My entire family watches in shock as I step forward and flip to the third page of the contract. "Why do I see conflicting provisions between the main terms of the agreement and the supplementary clauses? If my father signs this, the Townsend family will not only walk away with nothing but will even be saddled with a ten-billion-dollar debt." I flash Gina a smile that doesn't reach my eyes. "You drive a hell of a bargain, Ms. Whitman. Should we thank you for this incredible deal you've dropped in our lap?"

When my boyfriend claimed he was the final boss of a horror game, I laughed it off. What kind of terrifying final boss spends every day at home doing laundry, cooking meals, handing over all his money, and constantly clinging to his wife for affection? Then, one day, I entered the horror game myself. The infamous final boss, the one every player feared, pinned me against the headboard, slowly testing the limits of my body. He leaned close to my ear and whispered, “So? Do you believe me now?”

The moment my best friend, Patrick York, rushed ahead of me into the convenience store and asked for a lottery ticket with that specific string of numbers, I knew he was in the same boat as me. We were reborn. In the past life, Patrick and I were shortlisted for an interview at a Fortune 500 company, but there was only one opening. The day before the interview, I had a sudden urge to buy a lottery ticket. However, because of that, I missed the interview and Patrick got hired. Surprisingly, I got the winning ticket and won 50 million dollars. After my graduation, I enjoyed an easy life by living off interest from the bank. Meanwhile, despite getting hired, Patrick was paid a low wage and suffered daily abuse from his colleagues. In the end, he took out his frustrations on me by pushing me off the rooftop, killing me on the spot. After my death, my girlfriend, Emily Hayward, committed perjury for his sake. She claimed that after a prolonged period of staying home with nothing to do, I was in a bad mental state and leaped off on my own. The two of them profited off my death and became trending influencers, making it big. When I opened my eyes once more, I realized I was back to the day I purchased the lottery ticket.

I was a genius with an IQ of 180. Even so, I had always kept a low profile. Standing out just made me a target, so I never did. I was good at math, physics, chemistry, biology, astronomy, programming, quantum entanglement, and computer science. I spoke twenty-seven languages. I had mastered everything. When it came time for the SATs, I controlled my score precisely. I finished exactly ten points above the cutoff for an elite university. By “sheer luck,” I snagged the last spot. My classmates were all top students from every corner of the country. All of them looked down on me. They called me the “waitlist wonder,” the “lucky leftover,” and the “bare minimum.” I just smiled and never took their words to heart. That was until the top student in my class, Victor Holloway, announced, “Some people here don’t deserve to be in this class! “I propose that we cut the weakest link after this exam. “I dare whoever comes last to drop out voluntarily.” I was provoked by his words. Was he talking about me? Fine. It was time for me to stop holding back.