Romans & histoires Face Smacking

My older sister, Noelle Brown, has an unhealthy obsession with me. When I was ten years old, Noelle almost got kidnapped by the kidnappers. I got into the kidnappers' van in her stead. Later on, I was returned to my family after they paid a ransom. But my face had already been slashed by the kidnappers, and my legs had been broken by them, too. Since then, Noelle has worked extremely hard to improve herself. That's how she successfully brings the company Dad has left behind to a new level of success. I become Noelle's most cherished person as well as the vulnerable spot that no one else is allowed to touch. Someone made fun of my ugly looks in the past. Noelle had stuffed his head into a sack filled with rats, where he literally got his face chewed off him alive. There was also someone who ran his mouth about me being a cripple behind my back. Noelle responded by crushing his legs with a road roller, resulting in his legs being reduced to paste. Noelle is the demoness who's feared by the entire city. But to think that such a fearsome woman dotes on me endlessly. She even dumps a huge amount of money into sending me overseas, where I undergo numerous plastic and orthopedic surgeries while finishing my college studies. Before returning to the country, I receive an engagement invitation from Noelle. She tells me that soon, I'll have a brother-in-law who will spoil me like she does. She even sends me a photo of her fiance, Faris Smith. But as soon as I arrive at the villa, Faris barges in with a group of brutes. He's mistaken me for Noelle's side piece, whom she keeps in another country, so he begins torturing me endlessly. By the time Noelle reaches the scene, Faris points at me while shouting at her. "Don't tell me I can't even compare to that pretty boy!" Noelle's eyes go bloodshot at the sight. "What makes you think you're even worthy of being compared to him?"

"Do you take Asher Williams as your lawfully wedded husband" the priest asked me I bit my lips and look over to my Dad who had an expressionless face , my step mom glared at me I scoff "yes" He turn to the handsome man by my side, I must admit although I don't want to get married , this man is so handsome with beautiful eyes , thin lips, tall, with abs I drool "and do you take Cheryl Kingsley as your lawfully wedded wife?" I snapped from my thoughts and waited for his reply Part of me hope he would say no and stop the wedding and part of me hope he would say yes "Yes" he replied The priest smiled "you may kiss your bride" He turn to look at me and frown " No" I could hear a chuckle from my step mom "Kissing girls is bad" he said I raise a brow what is wrong with him? An elderly woman rush to the alter and whisper something into his ears He stare at me I was becoming impatient , what a disgrace I held him and force my lips on his I felt a force push me from him I fell hitting my ass on the ground, it didn't hurt much because of the thickness of the wedding gown He pushed me! Me! I wanted to stand up and give him a piece of my mind but looking at the congregation, their mocking smile , I couldn't , I felt so embarrassed thank goodness the only people invited were friends and family But still,all those girls that look at me like an untouchable goddess I felt like crying , I bit my lips and remained on the ground pretending I've lost consciousness and hoping the ground would open up and swallow me

Before the day of my husband's succession as the Don, my stepsister personally tattooed the "Inverted Angel's Eye"—the mark of a traitor—onto my back. My husband didn't just turn a blind eye; when the family vendetta broke out, he withdrew all the elite guards to protect my "pregnant" stepsister, leaving me alone in a defenseless city to face the slaughter.  "Elena, you are strong enough to protect yourself. But Sophia is fragile, and she is carrying my firstborn. She needs the protection more than you." Facing a siege of heavy firepower, I survived by the skin of my teeth. He thought I would swallow the insult for the sake of the family's reputation. He didn't expect that I would kick open the doors of his coronation ceremony wearing mourning weeds, flanked by the FBI and the Commission, and personally strip him of his title. "Goodbye, Lorenzo. This time, I choose to be the Don."

On my eighth Mate-Marking anniversary, I had carefully prepared a special celebration ceremony. My Alpha mate, Derek, told me the pack had an emergency and the ceremony was canceled. When I arrived at the venue, I was shocked to see the ceremony proceeding as planned. Scarlett, once my best friend, was walking hand-in-hand with Derek onto the ceremonial platform. Her daughter and my son were being led by their hands, one child with each adult. The four of them stood closely together while other pack members, unaware of the truth, praised them: "The Alpha of Shadow Pack and his mate look so happy together." I stood up in the crowd and applauded: "I didn't know Shadow Pack had replaced their Luna with an Omega. They make such a perfect couple." The next moment, Scarlett's face turned pale as she collapsed on the platform. I ignored the chaos and walked straight home. The following day, Derek stormed back home and confronted me: "Scarlett's condition has barely improved. Why did you have to provoke her?" My son pushed me and accused: "It's all your fault! You made little Emma cry!" I pulled out the mate-bond dissolution agreement and threw it in their faces: "Yes, it's my fault. So I'm stepping out. Now you four can be one happy family." But my mate and son suddenly began to panic.

While we were scuba diving, my boyfriend, Raphael Carlisle, ripped off my oxygen mask and put it on his childhood friend, Lucia Fairchild, whose mask had started leaking. I was left thrashing helplessly in the freezing water. Just as I thought it was over, Raphael's younger brother, Gabriel Carlisle, swam over, breathed life into me, and brought me back to the surface. After he saved me, he presented me with the purple diamond ring he designed himself and proposed, "For as long as I live, I'll never let you face danger again." I believed that he was my one true love, so I married him, leaving my job behind to focus on starting a family. On the day Lucia was given a critical condition notice, I ended up in a car accident. As I lay half-conscious on the hospital bed, I overheard Gabriel talking with Raphael. "Get a doctor to induce labor right away! Lucia's illness can only be treated with a stem cell transplant from umbilical cord blood. The only reason I got Phoebe pregnant was for this very day." "But she's carrying our bloodline! How could you have someone hit her with a car?" Raphael yelled. Gabriel replied, "Lucy matters more to me! As for Phoebe, I can spoil her rotten once she wakes up." At that moment, I realized the love I held on to was nothing but a lie. If that was the case, I'd just leave.

My sister accompanies me when I go for my premarital medical checkup. When I'm preparing a urine test, I hear embarrassing sounds coming from the cubicle next door. I'm about to leave when I hear the conversation. "Keep it in you, Willow. We're doing this again if it slips out." The voice belongs to my fiancé, Zachary Hilton. The woman to whom he's speaking is Willow Langley, my sister. I dial his number hysterically to see whether it really is him, but my calls go unanswered. All I hear is the incessant ringing of a phone next door and moans alongside it. I'm rooted to the spot, too stunned to do anything. Zachary once vowed to love me for life, yet he's doing something like this with Willow prior to our wedding. The moans and pants next door take a long time to subside. Once I hear them leave, I call home, my face wet with tears. "Mom, change my husband-to-be to Thomas Hilton, Zachary's youngest uncle. I don't want to have anything to do with Zachary anymore."

At graduation, I invited my classmates to attend my engagement party, but what I didn’t expect was the total meltdown one of my classmates had when she saw my engagement photos. She strutted over, full of herself, and demanded that I take off my dress so she could use it to polish her shoes. I blinked in confusion, thinking she must have lost her mind. I laughed and suggested she head over to the campus clinic to get checked out. Instead, she exploded, pointing a finger right in my face as she started yelling. “You leech! How dare you wear something so expensive?” she screamed. “You’ve been spending all of my boyfriend’s money on your filthy clothes! Have you no shame? Get down on your knees and apologize, or I guarantee you'll regret it. Who knows where you'll end up tomorrow? Maybe in the hands of some trafficker?” I couldn’t help but laugh. Who would’ve thought that my fiancé, whose tuition fees I paid for, had the nerve to keep a secret mistress behind my back?

Ever since we were kids, I'd always known how to make use of my gentle childhood friend for things like sending him on errands, and borrowing his allowance. He never complained. Just silently indulged me. Things continued the same way until the day we got engaged. That's when everything snapped into place. That was the day we both woke up. I was just a throwaway character in a novel. He was the male lead—fated to fall in love and end up with the novel's heroine. I was stunned. Ready to walk away. But he was furious. Jaw clenched, eyes wild. He grabbed my hand and dragged me straight to City Hall. "Screw the novel. Screw the plot. The only thing I know is that I love you, and I want forever with you." After we got married, he treated me like I was made of glass. Gentle. Meticulous. We worked side by side, building a reputation as a power couple in the business world. The events of the novel faded into the background. I fell deeper in love with him. Three years later, the youngest daughter of a real estate tycoon started her internship at our company. That day, there was a fire in the office. In the chaos, the girl stumbled into a shelving unit. It came crashing down, headed straight for my husband. I didn't hesitate. I threw myself in front of him. Pain exploded in my skull. Blood poured down my face. The girl, in her panic, had fallen to the ground, crying out, "Aaron, help me!" My husband's face went pale. His expression—pure terror—as he ran toward her without a second thought. "Grace!" he cried. Lightning split through me. My face drained of color. The heroine in the novel—her name was Grace.

On April Fool’s Day, my CEO husband cut out my heart to save his childhood sweetheart's son. After the surgery, he tossed me into a cold rental apartment, where I died in agony. Three days after my death, my five-year-old daughter played in the room as usual. Walking by the sofa, she wrinkled her little nose and mumbled, "Mommy, there's a weird smell in here." She touched my face and murmured, "Mommy, are you pretending to be Snow White? Why are you so pale?" She shook my arm harder and raised her voice, "Mommy, it's my birthday today—get up and blow out the candles!" Confused, she picked up the phone and called her father. “Daddy, did I make Mommy mad? I lit the candles, but no matter how much I call her, she won’t wake up.” On the other end of the call, Patrick Hart’s voice was cold and impatient. “What could possibly be wrong with her? She’s just pretending to be asleep for sympathy. It’s Johnny’s birthday, I’m busy. Don’t bother me! Tell your melodramatic mother to stop playing her little tricks. I don't have time to humor her." My daughter removed the candle from her bun, pinched off a piece of the bun, and fed it to me. "Mommy, I made a secret wish… I really wish you could hold me again, just like before."

My future mother-in-law, Diane Grant, loved setting rules. On the day I proposed, she sat there with that smug, superior look and told me if I wanted to marry her daughter, Olivia Grant, I had to pass her so-called "son-in-law training", which was three months working as a food delivery driver. She said she wanted to test whether I could handle hardship. For my fiancee's sake, I kept my identity hidden. I was the heir to one of the most powerful families in Crestfall City, and I agreed without hesitation. For three months, I shed every trace of privilege. I worked from dawn to night, delivering orders across the city. My parents didn’t understand. My friends disapproved. Mrs. Grant watched me like a hawk, picking me apart every single day. "Three minutes late? That’s a $3,000 penalty. The wedding shall be delayed by a month!" "Wrong unit delivery, bad review? $8,000 penalty. You don’t get to see Olivia this week!" Even then, I never gave up. Until the final day. I received an urgent order with a massive tip. The note was in bold: "Lifesaving medication. Immediate delivery." I sped through the streets, pushing myself to the limit. Just as I was about to enter the residential compound, Mrs. Grant stepped in front of me, blocking my way, her face full of disdain. Her voice shot up sharply. "The wedding gift goes up to $200,000. Not a cent less." I looked at her look of absolute certainty and suddenly laughed. My finger slid across the screen. The recipient of that urgent order was her precious son, Christopher Grant. I slowly put away the unlimited card in my pocket, along with the check I had prepared for a million-dollar wedding gift. Originally, I had planned to reveal my identity that day to give her the surprise of a lifetime. It seemed there was no need.