Face-slapping

My brother wants to become the godson of a Mafia don. As his sister, I was picking out his burial plot. In my last life, I overheard the truth that the selection wasn’t an honor but a suicide mission—used once, then erased. I did everything I could to stop him, but he cursed me for blocking his path to power. With no other choice, I secretly called the police. So, my brother was arrested; his dream shattered. Instead, someone else took his place, and during a bloody shootout, that man proved himself. He became the don’s sole successor. Our family lost its home, paying the price for offending the Mafia. My parents and my brother went insane. Convinced everything was my fault, the three of them worked together and buried me alive in the hills behind town. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day my brother excitedly announced he was going to take part in the selection. Looking at his stupid, clueless face, I smiled. This time, I’ll watch with my own eyes as he becomes nothing more than a replaceable lapdog.

My new dormmate thinks my boyfriend is a player and advises me to break up with him. After I politely reject her, she gets mad and complains about me online, saying I'm love-addled brain. Her video goes viral, and the online community calls me an ingrate who doesn't know what's good for me. When I see the smug smile on my dormmate's face, I slap her without even batting an eye. "Stop acting like you're a champion for feminism when all you can think of is making yourself seem better than other women!"

On my third day driving for a ride-hailing app, I picked up a female passenger who was completely wasted. Early the next morning, the police knocked on my door. At the station, the woman pointed straight at my face and screamed, "It was this driver! He raped me while I was drunk in the car. I’m still bleeding down there!" Her boyfriend lunged at me, trying to punch me, but the officers restrained him. People at the station started pulling out their phones to record, shouting insults like "scumbag" and "pervert" at me. An officer who wore a gloomy face asked, "Do you have anything to say for yourself?" I calmly took off my baseball cap. I even thought about unbinding my chest. "Officer, there’s something I’m really curious about. I’m a woman. With what, exactly, would I have made her bleed?"

On the Goldman heir's wedding day, I take a small bite out of a piece of cake because I am hungry from waiting too long at the ceremony. But my fiancee, Sheryl Wilson, slaps me in the face immediately. "You really are shameless! How could you eat in an occasion like this?" Dazed from the slap, I look at the other guests, who are staring at us at the moment. Having tasted copper in my mouth, I turn on my heel and approach the heir with a plate in my hands. "The cake's pretty delicious. Do you want a slice?" Sheryl started to panic. She's about to drag me away when the groom of the wedding takes a small bite out of the same slice. He remarks coolly, "It really is tasty. I'll have my men prepare 100 slices of cake for the woman who slapped you just now."

After I was brought back from the kidnapping, my mafia boss husband, Jonathan Caruso, arranges for me to live in a new villa. "You've suffered so much over the years, Nat…" Jonathan caresses the scar on my face, sympathy and pain evident on his face. As I listen to his words, I just smirk in return. Sure, he's been keeping up a loving and devoted facade. Unfortunately for him, I've always known that he doesn't want me to survive at all. After all, he's the one who has delivered me into the dark and damp water prison three years ago as a wedding gift for Governor Frederick Romano in order to marry his daughter, Kelsey Romano.

Because I had a face that screamed 'pick-me girl', I became the target of my mother's deepest hatred. She claimed that just seeing me made her sick, bringing back memories of my father's affair. In retaliation, she channeled all her affection into helping a child from a poor village, praising her for being kind and genuine while insisting she loved her hundreds of times more than she ever loved me. But then that same girl went behind my back and seduced my boyfriend, and my mother reacted by hitting me across the face repeatedly. "How did I end up with such a shameless daughter? You're the third wheel, and you're accusing her of being the other woman!" Yet when I fell gravely ill with cancer, she was beside herself with grief, begging for forgiveness while praying earnestly. "How could I not love you, my dear? I've made such terrible mistakes…"

On the day I'm supposed to get promoted as the deputy director, I pick up a 40-pound barbell before breaking my right arm with it. Because of the injury, I missed the only title-evaluating surgery available in five years. Everyone feels sorry for me, seeing as I've practically ruined my own future with my own hands. But I, on the other hand, am so excited about it that I've downed two bottles of vintage wine in one go. Because in my past life, I spent ten hours in surgery and pulled the patient back from the brink of death. But my wife, Megan Reese, immediately accused me of abusing my power as a doctor just to resolve a personal vendetta by killing her first love, Pierre Hopkins, on purpose. She bribed the nurses who were in the same surgery as me. They were adamant that I used the wrong medication purposefully, which led to the patient dying from a rupture. Not only was my career destroyed, but I also became a public enemy, hated by everyone. My mom tried to seek justice on my behalf, only to get cyberbullied by the Internet users, who knew nothing about the truth, to the point that she broke down. In the end, she accidentally fell into the river and drowned. When I received the tragic news, I chose to end my life by jumping off the hospital's rooftop. After I died, Megan spent my assets however she wanted. She also lived happily ever after with Pierre, who apparently "came back to life". When I open my eyes again, I've returned to the day I'm supposed to perform a surgery on Pierre.

When Steven Baxter, the heartthrob of the school, admits that he loves action movies the most, my childhood friend, Lisa Thornton, has my limbs strapped to four huge drones. During the flag-raising ceremony on Monday morning, the drones lift me high up in the air in front of the entire school. The students' laughter is deafeningly loud. The videos they take quickly go viral, too. I only get to return to the surface once the drones finally run out of power and make their descent automatically. With a wide grin on her face, Lisa unties me from the drones. "Steven loves action movies, so we had you cosplay the main character from the most popular Tom Cruise movie. "We grew up together since we were kids, Dominic. Surely you don't mind, right?" As I sit on the ground, Steven pulls Lisa into his arms before he starts guffawing at me. Tears soon streak down his face from all the laughing. "I can't believe you actually peed yourself!" "Ahahahaha!" I get up to my feet and walk away. From then on, I don't return to Lisa's side. But Lisa soon loses her mind. "We've known each other for ten years! Must you really do this to me?"

My younger brother had opened a high-end beauty salon, so I took my mother there for a facial. We picked the most expensive package, but the moment the mask was applied, Mom's face began to burn. When we peeled it off, her entire face was covered in rashes. I called for the director, but she looked impatient. "Oh, that's just a normal detox reaction." I was stunned. "Her face is practically ruined! What products are you even using?" "Ruined?" She flared up like someone had stepped on her tail. "Your mom's skin is just too bad to handle premium nutrients! Once our products are opened, they're non-refundable—got it?" I pointed to the brochure. "It says right here—'gentle and non-irritating, full refund if any adverse reaction occurs.' Is this how Stellan Fallow taught you to run a business?" She crossed her arms and lifted her chin high. "I am the boss! You and your mother look broke as hell—clearly here to mooch a free treatment. Now that it didn't work, you're trying to scam us for money? "Let me tell you something—this set costs 38 thousand, and with my emotional damages and lost wages, that's a total of 100 thousand. If you don't pay up today, I'll have the police take you both in!" A hundred thousand for a product that ruined someone's face? It was no wonder Stellan suddenly wanted to open a salon—it turned out he and his girlfriend were running a scam together! I was about to call Stellan, but before I could, she hit the video dial first. "Bubby, get over here—two broke idiots tried to freeload a treatment and now they're trying to shake us down for money!"

Dad is famous for being a total simp over Mom in the elite society. Naturally, he views Callie Archer, the stepdaughter whom Mom has brought with her, as his own. But Callie is afflicted with a severe case of walking phobia. Her feet couldn't touch the ground at all. Only when she's stepping on my back can she roam around in the house freely. So, whenever Callie looks in a certain direction, Mom will press my head down and force me to crawl toward Callie to serve as her doormat. The doctor issues a warning to my family that my spine is severely contorted. So when Callie wants to admire the flowers in the yard while wearing a pair of spiked shoes again, I can't endure the pain anymore, so I shiver slightly out of instinct. Callie ends up losing her balance and falling to the ground. She bawls like a baby afterward. Mom rushes over immediately before kicking me in the gut, her high heel lodging into my flesh. "It's extremely rare for Callie to be willing to leave the house! Why must you ruin her mood? Can't you just be more understanding and play your role as a doormat for the sake of your sister's illness?" Meanwhile, Dad scoops Callie into his arms, his heart bleeding for her plight. He coaxes her gently, telling her that he'll buy her new dresses later. I can only curl up on the ground while hacking up blood. But Dad just thinks I'm playing the pity card. He commands his men to throw me into the basement. Apparently, I can only be released once I've learned to stay stationary when I'm supporting Callie. As I clutch my broken ribs, I feel my tears flowing down my face as well as the blood from my injuries. I'm sorry, Dad. Next time, I will definitely not move a muscle, just like a corpse.