Emily Blunt Face Novels & Stories

“Because if he’s ugly, we riot. But if he’s hot..” “He’s Ernest Malcolm.” Silence. Then…A scream. Karl slapped a hand over her mouth to muffle it, eyes shining like she’d just been handed front-row tickets to heaven. I looked around and for sure we were getting stares. “YOU LIVE WITH ERNEST MALCOLM!” she whisper-yelled, eyes wild in shock. “The Ernest Malcolm? Rugby captain, campus royalty with thighs that deserve national recognition?” “I hate you,” I said flatly, dropping my head back down. “This is not funny.”

You worked tirelessly for years to make others believe Nevaeh was my mother's daughter, all so you could steal everything that was mine. "These things—well, you all knew them. And now you know I do too. So, why would you think I'd fall for this act and play along with you?" Realizing their plan had been exposed, Camden pressed a knife against my throat with a fierce expression. "Then don't blame me for being ruthless! If I cut off one of your fingers, I'm sure those two old fools won't hesitate to pay up." I raised my chin and met his gaze, feeling unfazed. "Do you really think that I'd allow myself to be alone and defenseless even after knowing all of this?"

All heads turned to see who had arrived. Emily Walton walked in with an air of confidence and poise that immediately commanded attention. Her dark, chestnut hair cascaded in soft waves down her back, catching the light and shimmering with a natural sheen. Her makeup was flawless, accentuating her striking features—a touch of smoky eyeshadow highlighting her piercing blue eyes, and a hint of blush enhancing her high cheekbones. Her lips, painted a deep, commanding red, curved into a polite but distant smile.

"Isabella, let's go, ignore this lunatic." Isabella followed James out of the room. However, Emily chased after them, nearly losing her sanity, crazily attacking Isabella. Naturally, James wouldn't allow her to harm Isabella and stood in front of her. His face was scratched by Emily's attack. Even if he lacked integrity, he wouldn't physically harm a woman. However, amidst the struggle, he grew increasingly impatient and his face turned colder. Yet, after Emily slapped him across the face, his expression turned downright icy.

According to him, Emily's profession is vulnerable to the dangers of violence and attacks from parties who feel aggrieved by her legal demands. Emily has Latin blood from her Puerto Rican mother. Golden brown hair is like pure honey, and the face is oval with sharp cheekbones and a jaw. A pair of hazel eyes with thick, curly eyelashes and a pair of crescent-shaped eyebrows. A long, petite nose that is not too sharp and sensual pink lips that invite kisses. Emily opened the black robe of the trial uniform that she had worn earlier. Under the uniform, she usually wore a chiffon sleeveless blouse and short skirt. A very sexy and challenging appearance in the eyes of men.

Blade came out with his usual all black clothing—a big black sweatshirt, a black baggy jean, black glasses, black face cap, black sneakers— and a revolver carefully tucked by his side. To my shock, the passenger door opened and a girl came out. She was obviously young, probably fourteen or fifteen with red hair and a round hazel eyes which peered at me through the glass of the coffee shop. I couldn’t help but wonder who she was and why Blade had decided to bring her along. They both shared words before walking towards the coffee shop. “Emily!” Blade called as he walked inside with his companion right behind him. “I’m right here,” I said waving my hands in the air to draw his attention.

But out of the blue, he was walking again—looking a hundred times more powerful and terrifying than before. "Who helped you change your face?" Stefan asked. Emily was not supposed to talk. "I don’t know," she said. "You don’t know? Then describe him, and I’ll have someone sketch his face," Stefan replied. "I can’t remember his face," Emily sobbed even harder. She wished Stefan wouldn’t press her further. Stefan smirked and glanced at one of his guards, who nodded and left, returning shortly with a box. "Do you want to tell me what he looks like or die being stung by two thousand bees?" Stefan asked. Without waiting for Emily’s reply, he nodded at the guard beside him.

Emily's face whipped to her side, lips bursting. Gasps. That... That lady actually slapped her. Emily grabbed her cheeks, staring at the lady who slapped her with horror-filled eyes. The air stiffened. Everyone stood with wide eyes as if we couldn't believe what had just happened. Even Emily stood frozen for a moment. “Did.... Did you just slap me?” She muttered, still shocked. That lady crossed her arms, her expression still stoic, wicked. Unbothered. Like she didn't do anything wrong just now. How can someone be so cruel?

Emily offered a faint smile, her eyes tinged with sincerity. Sincerity in facial expressions often disarms others. Blake's guard dropped momentarily. He couldn't quite pinpoint why she seemed different since returning to the country. Perhaps it was her attire—she now favored gray and black over her usual pastels. "Blake, relax. I'm not here to cause trouble or reminisce. Can you stop looking at me like that?" Emily said, her heart aching under his scrutiny. "What do you want then?" Blake arched a brow, still wary.

In a few seconds, May’s face swelled up like a balloon. Emily instantly yelled hysterically, “Help! Somebody!” After that, she quickly grabbed the bald inmate’s shirt collar, trying to pull the woman away. However, she was unsuccessful. The bald inmate wouldn’t budge! The next instant, the bald inmate slapped Emily viciously across the face with the back of her hand. “It seems like you really want to attend your own wedding with a swollen face. Don’t worry. I’ll help you with that.” A second later, Emily fell to the floor after being struck, and blood appeared at the corner of her mouth.