Ginger Haircuts Male Novels & Stories

In the delivery room, my wife, Ashley Chase, is now fully dilated, but she refuses to go through with the delivery. She insists that I have to agree to accept her betrayal first. "Henry Madden, I want you to swear that you'll treat this baby as if it were your own. Or else, I refuse to give birth today. The baby and I will both die in this delivery room!" The medical staff joins in, trying to convince me that life matters more than anything else—that all Ashley has done is make a mistake, and I should just live with it. Ashley's mother even slaps me when she sees that I haven't agreed yet. "You're just a loser who married into our family! You should feel honored that we're letting you be the father in name. Don't be such an ingrate!" Sneering, I grab the delivery consent form and write the words "do not agree". "Since Ashley is so keen to end both her own life and the life of her love child, I'll let her have her way."

I slipped into a vegetative state because of an accident. For the next five years, my wife, Ella York, remains devoted to me. She turns down all of her admirers and has chosen to raise our child on her own. At the same time, she exhausts herself from taking care of me to the point that she suffers from stomach bleeding. Everyone advises her to find a new man to settle down with. But Ella exclaims in a choked-up tone, "I'll always be Zack's wife for as long as he lives!" When I miraculously wake up from my comatose state, the first thing I do is file for a divorce under the condition that Ella leaves this marriage without a cent to her name. All of my family, friends, and relatives are pissed off at me, to say the least. "You bastard! Ella has stayed by your side for the past five years! How dare you cast her out the moment you wake up!" As I gaze at Ella's tear-streaked face coldly, I say to everyone else, "Go ahead and check the security footage at my son's kindergarten. Then, you'll understand how Ella has taken care of me over the past five years."

In order to gather 500 thousand dollars for my blind girlfriend's surgical bills, I've accepted a delivery order that's meant for someone at a private racing club. The huge floor-to-ceiling monitor is currently playing the live footage of the champion who's won the racing tournament. Champagne bottles can be seen spraying everywhere as the audience cheers loudly for the victor. Soon, the champion takes off her helmet and shakes her head full of curls off her face. Strikingly beautiful features are revealed the next moment. Next to the champion stands her childhood friend, Lewis Ross. I feel my hands clenching around the plastic bag containing the food containers. The woman shown on the screen is none other than Evelyn Carter, my so-called blind girlfriend. "Why aren't you happy even though you've won the tournament, Evelyn? Are you missing that boyfriend of yours who's still working his ass off for money?" A familiar voice comes from the lounge. An amused yet malicious smirk is played on Evelyn's lips at the moment. "Why did you bring him up? Then again, it's thrilling, pretending to be blind and all. Whenever he changes his clothes at home, he does it right in front of me." Everyone around Evelyn begins roaring with cheers. "You're so lucky, Ms. Carter!" After taking a sip from her champagne glass, Evelyn responds in a flippant tone, "Lucky? He's so busy with work every day just to gather enough money for my surgical bills! That man doesn't have a single romantic cell in him—he's just as stiff as the stick up his ass!" A wave of laughter echoes from the crowd once again. Feeling as though my blood had turned to ice, I turn on my heel and begin walking out of the club. I can still hear Lewis' cheeky voice ringing out from behind me. "There are only three days left in our one-year bet, Evelyn. Don't tell me you really fell for your boyfriend!" Evelyn merely snorts in response. She drawls back, "Don't worry. I'll dump him in three days."

Loree Koester got hurt over and over by her dream guy—Harvey Geake—while I dragged her up from nothing to a damn fortune. Ten years later, she stood at my proposal, eyes full of tears, and said yes. Then she ditched our wedding ninety-eight times. Every time, same excuse—Harvey threatening to kill himself. On the ninety-ninth, she didn't even hesitate. Left our friends, our family—hell, left her ring on the floor. "Rowan, just wait a little longer. Two hours. I'll deal with Harvey and come right back." I'd already waited ten years. I wasn't waiting two more hours.

My Valenese neighbor dressed like a temptress—curves in all the right places, a delicate body topped with a pair of full, heavy breasts. Her name was Ayame. When she came by that evening to ask my husband to fix her computer, I heard the unmistakable sounds of pleasure drifting from the other room. "Wanna try my new tongue stud? Consider it your payment for the repair." Then came my husband's moans of pure, shameless delight. I couldn't help but feel jealous. It had been so long since he'd sounded that happy with me. As I listened, my hand slid slowly beneath the waistband of my pants. But it wasn't enough. It was never enough. I'd heard that Ayame's husband had a full ring of piercings down below. I'd been craving a taste for ages. If Ayame could seduce my husband, then I'd take my own turn sampling those piercings.

My son’s family suddenly returned from abroad. I did not understand a single word at the dinner table. They were speaking in a foreign language. My grandson, Aiden, looked me up and down and said loudly, “Dad, Grandpa’s face is all bumpy and scarred. He’s lame, too. He’s so ugly!” My son waved his hand nonchalantly and said, “That was caused by a shell blast. Anyone who served in the military looks like that.” I did not understand their conversation. I simply placed the fish I had deboned onto his plate in silence. My grandson, however, became agitated. He picked up the hot soup and splashed it on my face. Then he cursed at me in broken English, saying, “Stay away, ugly monster! If it weren’t for you refusing to die, Grandma Sloane and Grandpa Wallace could’ve come home years ago!” My mind went blank. My wife had passed away decades ago. Who was this “Grandpa Wallace”?

I poured my heart and soul into securing a big deal for my wife's law firm. But when I stepped out for a quick coffee break, she fired me on the spot, claiming I'd gone AWOL for too long. "New company rule: ten minutes away from your desk, and you're out. You were gone for ten minutes and five seconds. Now grab your stuff and leave." I sneered and flipped the script, turning over proof of her siphoning funds to buy her intern boy a Maybach to the police. She thought she could burn bridges with me, but this bridge didn't crumble so easily.

Three years ago, during a critical moment of a business negotiation, the proprietary data I personally compiled ended up becoming the weapon that secured the victory for my business rival. I was taken away on the charges of leaking corporate secrets—and my girlfriend, Kelly Stone, smugly flashes the proprietary data at me, mocking me for my foolishness. After being given a five-year prison sentence, I suffered endless torture behind bars and died from the internal injuries. However, I got to witness everything that happened following my death. Whitney Evans, a college senior of mine who had a thing for me, did everything in her power to clear my name. She sold her company and pursued every avenue she could. In the end, after losing everything, she cried herself unconscious at my grave. Then, suddenly, my eyes opened again. I saw Kelly sneaking a USB drive into her handbag before turning to leave. I grabbed the USB drive from her and looked her in the eye, warning, "What you're doing is against the law, Kelly. I advise you to watch yourself from now on. Also, it's over between us. Don't even set foot inside my office again." Immediately, I went looking for Whitney. Three years have passed since then. In that time, I've managed to secure success in both career and love. It won't be long before I complete the acquisition of my company's business rival, Havenshire Group. Yet, the night before the official signing, I drink a glass of milk that Whitney gives me. My body swiftly goes weak, and I collapse on the couch. When I regain consciousness, I find myself lying on the floor with my hands and feet bound in metal chains. I can hear Kelly's and Whitney's voices ringing loud and clear. "No one will be able to see that you forged Caleb's signature for the share transfer agreement with Sam as the recipient, right?" "We'll just keep Caleb locked up here, so who's going to know that the signature is forged? His company has been expanding too quickly. We can't let him ruin Sam. It's all your fault, anyway, Kelly. I wouldn't have had to waste all those years on Caleb if you'd just stolen the data back then!" Taking in my restraints, I let out a self-deprecating smile. All along, I believed that Whitney and I loved each other. Turns out I've just been deluded this whole time. If Kelly and Whitney care about Samuel Gibson that much, they'd better spend every moment of their lives guarding him from now on. I'm going to do everything in my power to destroy him!

Evelyn Larson's nephew, Maxwell Larson, has been staying at my home for 12 years. On top of sponsoring everything he has in life, I even view him as my own son. Heck, I'm the one who paid the down payment for Maxwell's new family home. But on the night we're having a holiday dinner, he throws me a list in front of everyone. "Uncle Lawrence, I've already hashed out the details with my fiancee's family. We'll be giving her family 700 thousand dollars as a wedding gift. You've raised me for so many years, so you need to prepare this amount for me." I frown instantly. "Didn't I just settle your down payment for you? Besides, Tiffany's about to get married soon. I need to save some money for her own wedding gift." But Maxwell instantly smashes a plate out of anger. "Since she's marrying into another family, that means she's no longer a part of this family! Are you saying that you're willing to give your money to an outsider rather than your own nephew? "If you refuse to agree to my terms, I'll make Aunt Evelyn divorce you right now!" I turn to look at Evelyn out of instinct, only to see her pulling out a gift agreement that she has already drafted. "We don't need to prepare any wedding gifts for Tiffany, seeing as she's the one marrying into another family. Max, on the other hand, is the only son of the Larson family. You should give your money to him instead."

After the car accident, one of the Laurent heiresses has died, while the other lives. The moment my religious wife, Amelia Laurent, opens her eyes in the hospital, she addresses me as her brother-in-law. Then, she claims that her older sister, Penelope Laurent's soul has possessed her body. I quickly get all the doctors and priests I can find, hoping to swap Penelope's soul out for Amelia's. That is, until I overhear Amelia's conversation with our daughter, Charlotte Robinson, at night. "Mom, you've had a crush on Uncle Samuel for so many years, and you've even gone into abstinence by staying in the monastery for years. Now, you can finally be with him in the open." Amelia pats Charlotte on the head. "If it wasn't for the need to prevent your father from ruining Samuel's relationship back then, I wouldn't have married your father in the first place." As I struggle to register the truth from the shadows, I witness what happens next after Charlotte leaves the ward. Amelia, who has always prided herself on her composure and restraint; who has practiced abstinence for seven long years for the sake of her religion, proceeds to be physically intimate with Samuel Bennett—a fresh widower—on the cramped hospital bed. The next day, I apply for Amelia's death certificate immediately before burning our marriage certificate. On the day Amelia throws a grand proposal banquet for Samuel, I board the helicopter that has flown over to pick me up. But strangely enough, Amelia tears through the streets while chasing after the helicopter.