Bts Memes Face Novels & Stories

The day I went to try on my wedding suit, a stranger stormed into the VIP fitting room and drove a knife into my gut. "Sleeping with my woman, and you dare wear a suit this expensive?" He ripped my shirt into ribbons with a wild grin and threw sulfuric acid straight at me. The knife was buried deep in my abdomen. Pain ripped through me as I collapsed. He yanked my hair, forcing my head up. "Susan Lefebvre is my wife. What the hell are you? Just some filthy side piece hiding in the shadows!" Blood dripped from my fingertips as the truth sank in. The fiancée I'd loved for seven years had been cheating on me all along. "What are you staring at?" He sneered. "Even if I kill you, no one can touch me. My wife runs this city!" Watching that arrogant face twist in triumph, I took out my phone with a trembling, blood-soaked hand and dialed my sister. "Allison," I said, my voice cold and calm. "Come pick me up at the bridal salon. And tell the Lefebvres that the engagement is off."

It was the day of my return. The city was talking about the birthday party my husband was throwing for me. He was a lawyer. But the night before the big day, a message popped up on my husband's cell phone. 'It's been five years. I've been waiting for far too long.' My husband pushed me away, though his face was smeared with guilt. "I'm sorry, honey. The GM wants me on a last-minute work trip. I can't make it in time for your birthday." He left without even missing a beat. I opened up the GPS app and watched the red dot move away. That was him. I got an Uber and tailed him right away. His GM was me. I just got the job, and I approved his leave for my birthday. And then he told me, in my face, that I assigned him on a last-minute work trip when I did no such thing. It was midnight. And I was going to find out who this man was meeting at this witching hour.

The day Yancy Shepherd died, Benedict Page poisoned our dinner. His eyes were wild, and bloodshot, as he watched me writhe in agony. There was a madness in his gaze, but worse was the hatred, a disgust so deep it twisted his face into something unrecognizable. "If it weren't for you forcing your way into our lives, Yancy wouldn’t have died from heartbreak. You ruined us! It’s all your fault!" A photo slipped from his trembling hand and landed at my feet—Yancy at twenty, looking radiant, her smile as bright as a blooming flower. I collapsed to the ground, my strength fading fast like a rose withering in the final grasp of winter. Helpless, I waited for the darkness to claim me, consumed by despair and bitter regret. Why hadn’t I listened to the system and killed him when I had the chance? But when I opened my eyes again, everything was different. I stood watching Benedict flee our engagement ceremony. My brother moved to chase after him, but I quietly raised a hand, stopping him. This time, things would be different.

My father-in-law said he wanted to experience "how the young folks have fun these days," so I took him to my wife's newly opened upscale cocktail bar for a quiet drink. I’d just finished ordering him a custom cocktail when a man from a booth across the room swaggered over, glass in hand. His eyes scanned the drink menu on our table, and a condescending smirk twisted his lips. "Only ordering the cheapest well drinks?" he sneered. "Brought the old man here to enjoy the free air conditioning? Trash like you belongs in a dive bar. Who even let you in here?" Anger burned in my chest. I stood up, my jaw clenched. "We're paying customers. What's it to you?" But before I could say another word, his face darkened with pure rage. He snatched the half-finished beer bottle from our table and smashed it on my head. "My girl owns this place!" he snarled. "Even if I crack your skull open, I can afford the payout! You filthy pauper—either get on your knees and lick my shoes dry, or get the hell out of my sight. You're an eyesore." The beer dripped down my face. My hands trembled with fury as I wiped it away. Then, a cold calm settled over me. I opened my phone, switched to the camera, and went live. "Alright, everyone," I said into the screen. "You won't want to miss this. We're going live to catch my cheating wife and see the double life she's been leading."

The powerful Stratton family, a tech industry titan, claimed I was their long-lost son. They brought me back from my remote mountain sanctuary. However, when I arrived, my father accused me of peddling superstition and called me a fraud. My adopted brother, the false heir, spread rumors that I was practicing dark magic and cursing the family. My uncle sided with him. He put on a serious face as he warned me. “Ethan, the Stratton family built this empire on technology. If you insist on this occult nonsense, you’ll leave us with no choice but to disown you!” Confronted with their ignorant ridicule and malicious setup, I felt the urge to roll my eyes. I thought. “Whoever said I came back to reconnect? I came down from that mountain to save your lives! Are you really too blind to see everything is about to come crashing down in your family?”

The day before my engagement to Dean was announced, his childhood sweetheart falsely claimed I had broken her fingers when she was playing the piano. Dean flew into a rage and made me join the medical relief team in Loasia. Now that I was abandoned with just the clothes on my back, I had no choice but to fend for myself. Not long after, I was informed that he was getting married. Everyone bet that I would fly back to steal him away. After all, I had been head over heels in love with him. However, I never appeared even at the end of the wedding. I didn't even call him. I had vanished into thin air. … Five years later... A man, heavily injured from a car crash, arrived at the emergency department. His significant other demanded that he be operated on by the hospital director. I calmly held up my scalpel in the operating theatre, my face hidden behind a surgical mask. "Administer the anesthesia." Before he could be sedated, the man suddenly grabbed my wrist. Tears streamed down his cheeks as he demanded weakly, "Eve, is that you?" I pulled his hand away from mine and shot the anesthetist a look. "The patient is aggravated. Increase the dosage."

On the day I was diagnosed with uremia, my husband asked me to donate a kidney to his one true love. I turned him down, claiming I wasn’t feeling well. I didn’t expect him, my own husband, who was a doctor, to drag me to trial. The charge? Ingratitude. If found guilty, I would be executed on the spot, my kidney forcibly harvested, my soul condemned for eternity. But if the charges were dismissed, my husband would face immediate execution. His love would fall into ruin, plagued by illness and poverty. Everyone pressured me to confess. After all, when I nearly died in a car crash years ago, it was her blood transfusion that had pulled me back from the brink of death. But what they didn’t know was… I had been reborn. In my past life, I died never knowing my husband and his lover had orchestrated the car crash that nearly killed me. Now that I had returned, I would tear off their masks and expose their malice for all to see.

On my boyfriend, Draco Leroyce's birthday, I take him to a newly-opened fancy restaurant of my own for his birthday meal. Thinking that we'll be having a birthday cake for dessert later, Draco and I decide to order a set meal that includes a pizza and a plate of pasta. With a smile, I hand the menu over to the waitress. She plasters a fake smile on her face as she grabs the menu. But she secretly calls us "broke ass bastards" in Virellian. I draw my brows into a deep frown instantly. "What did you just say?" The waitress is momentarily stunned. Then, she shoots me another fake smile. "I said I'll prepare your food right away." I just sneer back at the waitress before responding to her in fluent Virellian, "You were calling us broke ass bastards."

First day back in the office. I was face down at my desk during lunch when the desk next to mine started rattling under a series of hard knocks. I looked up. It was the firm's new architect, Flora Reeves. "Lunch time ended five minutes ago. You're still asleep at your desk? Don't bother coming in tomorrow. You're fired!" I told her I had just come back from a client meeting. I had been pulling all-nighters on the project for a week. She looked at me like I was something on her shoe. "All you do is take clients out, drink with them, and scribble a few sketches. "You don't even punch in. You're barely in the office. What gives you the right to nap at your desk during work hours?" I almost laughed in her face! I was the firm's chief architect. The bulk of the projects on Walsh & Co.'s books had my name on them. The firm's success was, frankly, carried by me. She saw me out of the office most days. She did not see me in another city, on another job site, talking down another client. And in our industry, most of those clients had hired Walsh & Co. because of my name and reputation. I kept my composure. "You're not in HR. On what authority are you firing me?" She said, "On the authority that my husband is the president of this company." I went still. When did my boyfriend get married?

My father-in-law was clinging to life after a car accident. The only way he'd survive is if I—a top surgeon—operated on him myself. I'd just changed into my scrubs when my wife, Clara Stevens, rushed in and grabbed my arm. "You're not going anywhere. The priority is protecting Rick's face. Not a single scar, you hear me?" I pulled away. "Dad has minutes left. If we miss the window, he's gone." Clara didn't even flinch. "That worthless country bumpkin father of yours was born a burden. If he dies, he dies—at least we won't have to take care of him anymore. But if Rick's face gets ruined, I swear you'll pay." Her first love, Rick Ford, tugged her sleeve with a fake whimper. "Clara, your husband seems pretty upset. You think he's stalling on purpose? Trying to hurt me?" I was so angry, I just laughed. So that was the case. All along, Clara thought the one dying… was my father.