Expression Chart Novels & Stories

I am finally pregnant with a child after being married to Anthony Johnson, my husband, who has azoospermia, for five years. Emily Johnson, my 30-year-old unemployed sister-in-law who lives off her family, tears the ultrasound scan apart and angrily accuses me of carrying someone else's baby. She then takes out a notebook packed with detailed records of every time Anthony and I have slept together since we got married. "In the past three months, the only time you slept with Anthony was three weeks ago; other than that, he never laid a finger on you! If you're over a month pregnant, then there's no way that baby belongs to the Johnson family!" I feel incredibly angry at the thought of being eavesdropped on all this time, so I seek out Anthony and demand an explanation. He merely looks at me with a pained expression and says, "You should just produce the evidence if you're innocent, Madison—just like Emily did." I laugh out of sheer exasperation. If they want evidence, then the baby I'm carrying is the best evidence there is.

At the Mercer family's annual dinner, I accidentally wore a couture gown that belonged to Lucian's late wife. The eight-year-old boy I had raised myself, in front of every key member of the Family, threw a glass of expensive red wine all over my pure white dress. He just stood there, his cold, condescending expression a mirror of his father's. "Don't think you can become the mistress of this house just by dressing like my Mamma." "I swear, when I'm old enough to take over the family business, I'll make you disappear for good!" The cold liquid soaked through the fabric, clinging to my skin. But I felt nothing. My heart had frozen solid the moment I signed my life away eight years ago. I looked at the child I had raised as my own for eight years. There was no anger. The faintest smile touched my lips. I leaned down and whispered in his ear, "You won't have to wait that long, my little lion. I'm leaving, and it will be very soon."

I was setting up a weekend shopping list on the tablet my husband had just replaced for our home system. A notification popped up. He had forgotten to log out of a shared, encrypted family calendar— one I didn’t recognize. There was only one unfamiliar profile photo. I tapped it. A list titled “My Little Princess – Personal Notes” filled the screen. My Little Princess doesn’t drink alcohol—only mineral water or herbal tea. No late nights. She needs absolute quiet to sleep. She gets anxious easily—keep fresh white lilies in the house and her favorite vanilla chocolates on hand. I scrolled slowly, my expression unreadable. The final entry was bolded. Highlighted. “Next Wednesday: take my Little Princess to choose her wedding crown.” I closed the screen. Then I picked up my phone and called my husband. “Love,” I said gently. “Does your Little Princess prefer a classic European bridal crown… or something more traditional? I thought I could help you choose.”

"I’ld love to see the expression on your face when I successfully trap you, taunt you and make you beg till you break." I whispered pinning Matteo to the wall. “And I’d love to see you try,” he shot back, struggling against me. I didn’t let him. He thought being older meant he had the upper hand. He was wrong. ~ ~ ~ ~ Matteo Hudson was Rowan’s first mistake, the coach who crossed a line he should never have touched, then walked away like it meant nothing. Now he’s colder, stricter, and determined to pretend it never happened… but Rowan remembers everything. Every look, every moment, every time Matteo lost control. And he refuses to be the only one carrying it. What starts as tension on the court quickly turns into something messier and impossible to ignore. Matteo keeps his distance, but Rowan pushes harder, forcing the past back to the surface. Because whatever they had didn’t end—it just got buried. And the deeper Matteo tries to hide it, the more Rowan makes sure it resurfaces.

“You can still walk away,” he said, his voice lower now. I shook my head. “I don’t want to.” Something in his expression softened, just slightly. Then he stepped closer. Close enough that I could feel the warmth of his body, the steady rhythm of his breathing. For a second, neither of us moved. Like we were both waiting, deciding. His hand lifted, hesitating just slightly before brushing against my jaw, tilting my face up to his. “Last chance,” he murmured. I didn’t answer, I didn’t need to. I closed the distance instead. The kiss wasn’t soft. It was searching, deliberate. Like he was testing something, me. And I responded before I could stop myself. Before I could think. My fingers curled into his shirt, pulling him closer as the world around us slipped further out of reach. The hesitation was gone now. Replaced by something heavier, something I didn’t want to question. And this time, I didn’t think.

"Why did you come here dressed like this? I thought I bought a dress for you!!" Ethan's voice rang out, filled with irritation and frustration. Ashley looked around nervously before quickly covering Ethan's mouth with her palm, trying to shush him. "I am sorry, I misplaced the cloth..." she replied, her voice barely above a whisper. Grandpa Ben sat in the back, watching the exchange with a stern expression on his face. He had expected Ethan to arrive with his fiancé, and instead he was greeted with this madwoman. Ashley had known that borrowing money from Ethan's company was a risk, but desperate times call for desperate measures. She had two options: either marry the CEO to pay back her debt, or come up with the money by the next day. As she stood in front of Ethan, she couldn't help but feel like a fraud, knowing that the person he believed her to be was just a figment of her imagination. Now, with everything on the line, Ashley must decide whether to reveal the truth about her fake persona to Ethan and risk losing everything, or continue on living this lie.

Leon Santoro's ex-wife and their daughter pushed me down the stairs. I lost the baby. Leon came to see me in the hospital. He sat beside the bed, his expression as composed as always, and said, "She's a child. She didn't know what she was doing. I'm sorry you had to go through this. I apologize for Rosalie." "That's it?" I asked. "Just an apology?" He turned to look at me. "What else do you want? Money? Stock?" "I can't exactly make Rosalie pay with her life for what happened to your child." Your child. Not our child. So he truly never cared about the baby I was carrying. He'd made a promise to his ex-wife Giselle: Rosalie would be his only child. When I told him I was pregnant, he'd barely reacted. Just a shrug and a flat "I know," like I'd told him the weather. Thinking about it now, I looked at him and asked quietly, "You're relieved, aren't you? Now that the baby's gone."

Blurb Five years ago, the 18-year-old Mia was the most naive Italian teenager ever. The people she trusted took away her inheritance, identity, and fiance. Finally, she was thrown into the bed of a stranger. That night changed everything in her life. Five years later, she returned to Italy as a world-class model with a secret child. "Mommy, take a quick peek at that handsome uncle", the small girl with a ponytail cupped her cheeks and had a dreamy look on her face. Mia sighed and replied, "Chiara, don't forget our agreement. Anyway, that stranger is not half as handsome as your Dad". The said stranger had a darkened expression on his face. His subordinates felt the urge to laugh but his oppressive aura wouldn't let them do it. That was the first time their boss met a woman who wasn't afraid of offending him. Mia's goals upon her return are only three. One, bring down her enemies and take back her inheritance. Two, Restore her identity as an Arturo. Three, Find the man from that night. What if fate has other plans for her?

When my wife, also the president of a company, learned that I had voluntarily donated part of my brainstem tissue to awaken her long-cherished love, who had been lying in a coma, she finally left the abbey where she had been praying for his recovery for the first time in seven years. She came to the company and asked what compensation I wanted. Everyone assumed I would seize the chance to ask her for a child to secure our marriage. Instead, I handed her a divorce agreement. For a moment, the entire office thought I was simply playing hard to get. My wife’s expression turned icy. She stripped me of every position I held, then immediately promoted her beloved man and raised his salary, telling me to reflect on my mistakes. Little did she know… The surgery had cost me my memory. The man standing before her now was no longer the husband who had swallowed every grievance. He was now the spirited young man from seven years ago. And this time, he would never sacrifice himself again.

I accidentally wore the jewelry belonging to the former Luna of the pack on my birthday. My ten-year-old stepson, Soren Lambert, doesn't hesitate to push me down the stairs because of that. He looks just like his father, Michael Lambert, as he looks at me in a high and mighty manner. My face is completely twisted in pain at that time. But Soren's expression remains icy. "You really think you'll become the pack's Luna just because you put on my mom's jewelry? Once I inherit the Alpha position, the first thing I'll do is exile you from the pack!" Pain continues to swallow me whole. My heart breaks into countless pieces at the same time. After all, I've personally raised Soren since he was a pup. But when faced with Soren's hurtful accusations, I don't even feel a trace of sadness or anger. Instead, a wave of calmness washes over me. "You don't have to wait till you're all grown up. I'll grant your wish tomorrow."