Kono Dio Da Face Novels & Stories

Mom and Aunt Denise Taylor fell off the balcony in the midst of their heated argument. Dad rushed in just as they hit the ground, each with a broken arm. Without hesitation, he left Mom behind and hurriedly took Denise to the hospital instead. Later, Mom filed for divorce. Dad's face twisted in anger as he yelled, "Enough, Nicole! So what if you broke an arm and can't hold a scalpel anymore? What's the big deal? Dee is a genius designer. If she had lost her hand, her life would've been over! Of course, I had to save her first!" Watching all this in my ghostly state, I couldn't help but laugh. Did Dad really think that Mom had only lost the use of her hand? Mom didn't just lose her hand. She lost me. After all, I had severe heart failure, and the only person who could perform the life-saving surgery was Mom, the medical master herself. But none of that matters now, because I'm already gone.

At the annual company meeting, my wife, Rosalie Smith, claims that I've never made any contributions to the company, so she demands that I give up my position as the chief engineer and transfer all of my research findings to her first love, Harry West. Enraged by Rosalie's shamelessness, I quit my job on the spot before throwing the divorce agreement at Harry's face. "Working in this day and time is very difficult, you know! How about I just be more generous and let you take over my position as the CEO's husband instead?" For a moment, everyone swaps looks with each other, thinking that I'm merely jealous of Harry. But no one knows that I'm the one with the core technology of the company. No one can replicate it nor steal it from me. Without my core tech, the company's products are reduced to a bunch of useless codes. As for Rosalie, she will face massive debts and the crisis of her company going into bankruptcy.

Led by my ex-boyfriend, the police raid the base of the major crime syndicate. The antagonist takes his own life, and the only person who could prove my identity as a top-secret undercover operative died two weeks ago. My ex-boyfriend drags me into court. He wants my memories extracted so I can face public judgment and sentencing. Nevertheless, I have no intention of explaining myself. "I plead guilty. Grant me a swift death." The masses are outraged, despising me with every fiber of their being. "Ha! You despicable traitor! You monster! You're a rat who exposes undercover journalists, yet you dare ask for a swift death? "This is the world of a novel. The maximum penalty for a guilty plea is euthanasia, but if judgment is passed by the court, you will suffer endless torment until your last breath!" "You don't deserve euthanasia. You belong in hell!" Rotten eggs and stones pelt me mercilessly. Even with my face now covered in blood, I make no effort to avoid the assaults. I only longed for death. My ex-boyfriend glares at me coldly. "You betrayed me. What right do you have to ask for a swift death? Your memories must be extracted and judged in court. Death will come only after your torment!" They are the ones who demand my memories be extracted and judged, yet after seeing them, why are they also the ones who go mad with regret?

I've been working for five years now. This is the first time my mom takes the initiative to call me to go home for the holidays. So I travel home with heaps of luggage. Still, I manage to free one hand to produce an envelope filled with cash and give it to my mom. A grin blooms on her face instantly. But when she realizes that there's only ten thousand dollars in the envelope, her grin starts to falter. "Oh, it only makes sense that you're the most manipulative out of the bunch after all these years." I pause momentarily as I'm about to go through the front door. "You've been working for quite a few years now, and yet you only bring home ten thousand bucks. Meanwhile, Sabrina gave us 100 thousand dollars in her first year of working a nice job. Having a bachelor's degree definitely pays off a lot!" Upon noticing how stunned I look, my mom yanks the gifts over right away. "Don't go around looking as though we owe you a life debt, Regina! See, Sabrina has better grades than you, and she doesn't have the intention of hiding anything from us. The gifts she always brings us are top-end supplements, so you should stop bringing us cheap stuff like this." I can only grip the hems of my shirt tightly. But the thing is, I'm the one with better scores back then…

Old commander, Peter Howell, slipped and fell into the water, while his guard—my brother, Joe Castro—was off setting off fireworks with our foster sister, Felicity Castro. After getting a second chance at life, I didn't run to find Joe like I had before. I jumped in without hesitation and dragged Peter out. Last time, I went to get Joe. He made it in time and saved Peter, and from that day on, Peter treated him like a hero. His career took off. But Felicity had started a fire with the fireworks. Her face was badly burned, and she couldn't handle it. In the end, she took her own life. Joe stayed eerily calm and told me it was just an accident. But the day my college acceptance letter came, he grabbed the iron poker from the fireplace and smashed my leg. His face twisted with hatred. "Commander Howell knows how to swim. Why did you have to drag me there? "If you weren't trying to get my attention, Felicity wouldn't have gotten hurt. She wouldn't have died! And now you think you get to go off to college and start fresh? Not happening. "Your future, your life, you'll use it to pay her back!" He beat me until everything went black. When I opened my eyes again, I was back to the day Peter fell into the water.

While negotiating the terms of a project, a client pressured me into downing a large glass of liquor. While I was washing my face in the restroom, I saw my younger sister’s latest Instagram post. [Low salary? What of it? My parents will always support me!] Above the caption was a photo of a property deed with her name on it, along with a message from our parents. [Mom and Dad will always be your safety net!] It was in a newly developed residential complex. It was also the very neighborhood I had been desperately saving up for a downpayment to buy a home in. At that moment, a torrent of complex emotions washed over me. I splashed my face with water. After clearing my head, I sent a message to my manager, Mr. Jenkins. [I’m willing to take on that overseas project you mentioned.]

Dad is famous for being a total simp over Mom in the elite society. Naturally, he views Callie Archer, the stepdaughter whom Mom has brought with her, as his own. But Callie is afflicted with a severe case of walking phobia. Her feet couldn't touch the ground at all. Only when she's stepping on my back can she roam around in the house freely. So, whenever Callie looks in a certain direction, Mom will press my head down and force me to crawl toward Callie to serve as her doormat. The doctor issues a warning to my family that my spine is severely contorted. So when Callie wants to admire the flowers in the yard while wearing a pair of spiked shoes again, I can't endure the pain anymore, so I shiver slightly out of instinct. Callie ends up losing her balance and falling to the ground. She bawls like a baby afterward. Mom rushes over immediately before kicking me in the gut, her high heel lodging into my flesh. "It's extremely rare for Callie to be willing to leave the house! Why must you ruin her mood? Can't you just be more understanding and play your role as a doormat for the sake of your sister's illness?" Meanwhile, Dad scoops Callie into his arms, his heart bleeding for her plight. He coaxes her gently, telling her that he'll buy her new dresses later. I can only curl up on the ground while hacking up blood. But Dad just thinks I'm playing the pity card. He commands his men to throw me into the basement. Apparently, I can only be released once I've learned to stay stationary when I'm supporting Callie. As I clutch my broken ribs, I feel my tears flowing down my face as well as the blood from my injuries. I'm sorry, Dad. Next time, I will definitely not move a muscle, just like a corpse.

When Gwyneth opened her eyes, she found herself in a webnovel she had just binge-read, and she wasn’t just a random character—she was the villain’s mother! In the story, after the tragic death of her first husband, the original owner of her body had swiftly moved on and snagged a perfect new partner, only to heartlessly cast aside her son from the first marriage, worrying he would become a burden. Now armed with knowledge of the impending plot twists and the looming shadows of her future villain son, Gwyneth glanced at her surprisingly alive first husband and groaned. With the script she had been dealt, she'd rather face a dragon than revamp this narrative! She was determined to rewrite her destiny, but how could she escape this villainous fate?

The fifth year of my marriage to Silas marked a turning point I would never forget. Our son, Yael, was kidnapped. The ransom was set at ten million dollars, an insignificant amount for Silas, yet his response chilled me to the core. “No rush. A Gardner needs to experience some hardships to grow.” Ten million meant nothing to him, but Yael’s life meant everything to me. I dropped to my knees, tears streaming down my face, and begged him relentlessly, pleading for Yael to be brought home as soon as possible. Silas, however, remained unmoved. Three days later, Yael was returned to us, but the cheerful boy I knew was gone. He had been so traumatized that he could not speak. Far from showing concern, Silas coldly remarked, “Yuna said Yael keeps telling everyone at school she’s a fatherless child. Let’s see how he spreads lies now.” His words cut through me like a knife. I picked Yael up in my arms and whispered softly in his ear, “Don’t be afraid, Yael. Mommy will take you away from here.”

I'm having a mental breakdown as I face a clogged drain with my feverish and fussing daughter in my arms. Meanwhile, my husband has reserved a hotel to celebrate another woman's birthday. My mother-in-law spits on the floor. "This is what you deserve. You can't even capture a man's heart!" I clench a fist around the winning lottery ticket in my pocket. I want to get a divorce.