Male Face Claims Novels & Stories

Marlene Cole, who has always been a reliable nanny, has called me three times in a row out of panic today. "I got bad news for you, Mr. Spence! The security guard of the kindergarten refuses to let Erin into the kindergarten! "He claims that the name on the student ID is wrong! The ID belongs to a little girl named Jodie! It's not Erin's ID at all!" I look up from the spreadsheet I'm holding, a frown already gracing my features. "Marlene, wasn't Harper the one who gave you the ID last night?" Marlene sounds like she's about to burst into tears from panic. "She did! But the scanner shows that Jodie Holmes is the ID owner! The security guard says that we've gotten the wrong ID, so now he's interrogating me!" That's odd. Half a year ago, I've pulled a few strings just so I can enroll my daughter, Erin Spence, into Starry Kindergarten, known as the most prestigious kindergarten in the city. In fact, I have to sponsor the kindergarten 300 thousand dollars in order to secure a slot for Erin. Over the month, my wife, Harper Gilmore, has always been the one driving Erin to school every day. Today, Harper claims that she can't take Erin to school because she needs to pull overtime shifts at her company, so she has instructed Marlene to do so. But how is it possible that Erin's student ID now shows another name when it's Marlene's turn to take her to the kindergarten?

My daughter suffered carbon monoxide poisoning and urgently needed to be taken to the hospital. However, the ambulance was blocked by my wife's car. She was carrying the man she had always loved, who only had a cold. She refused to move and even got into a fierce argument with the paramedics. She said, "Whether your patient lives or dies has nothing to do with me. I have a patient in my car as well. Why should I give way?" In the end, my daughter missed the critical window for treatment and passed away. From that moment on, my heart was completely dead. I took my wife to court.

After our company loses the eight-million-dollar deal, my girlfriend, Lindsey Corwell, gets mad at me for the first time ever. She goes as far as to heavily insult me in front of everyone in the company. Once we get home at night, she retains her professionalism. "There's no such thing as a romantic relationship between us when it comes to work. The fact that you screwed up still stands. This is your fault." Meanwhile, Lindsey's junior, Gerald Whitaker, sends me an apologetic text. "This is all my fault, Julian. I'm the one who screwed up the deal. Lindsey bought me a cupcake to comfort me. It's pretty delicious. Let me buy you a cupcake as well." The next morning, Lindsey chucks the breakfast I've made for her into the trash can without hesitation. "I told you many times that I don't eat breakfast!" At work, my colleague, Joshua Miller, suddenly approaches me and begins sharing gossip with me. "The newbie really is fearless, eh? He actually had the guts to start a conversation with Ms. Corwell and even bought her breakfast! Guess what happened after that? Not only did she eat it, but she also claimed that it was tasty!" Oh, so that's how it goes, huh? Whatever. Anyway, the woman who keeps texting me is still trying to get me to switch lovers. "If worse comes to worst, I don't mind being a side chick! C'mon, give me a try!" I purse my lips in return. "It's fine. You shall be my official girlfriend now."

My in-laws accidentally fall off a cliff in the middle of a mountain hike. But my wife, Stella Covington, who's also the leader of the search and rescue team in charge of that area, refuses to accept the rescue mission. Instead, she sets off fireworks with her junior, Noah Reid, to celebrate her birthday. By the time my in-laws are found, they've already died. Their corpses are left broken and battered. Only then does Stella call me on the phone casually. "Have your parents' bodies delivered to my team. Noah needs to dissect two more bodies in order to receive his license as a forensic doctor." It turns out that Stella thought my parents were the ones who died. I just chuckle in return. After that, I have the mangled and unrecognizable bodies delivered to Stella's team.

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.

I had always been a little dizzy by nature. My head was often muddled. Three years ago, in that same haze, I picked up a drunk woman and brought her home. She woke up and stared at me for a while before suddenly saying, “Let’s get married.” I did not think much about it. I just nodded and thus became the rich husband of a powerful family. They gave me a credit card that I could use however I liked, and I could live in a luxury house without any limits. We had a son, but alas, he was kidnapped. It took me two years, but I managed to find him again. I was about to tell my wife when she handed me a divorce agreement. “I’m bankrupt. This is my last sum of money. Take it and leave.” At that moment, a few chat messages suddenly appeared in front of me. [Wow! The female lead’s crush, the male lead, has returned to the country!] [She is probably pretending to be bankrupt. She wants to get rid of the male supporting character to go back to the male lead!] [She got drunk back then because the male lead left. The male supporting character was just a stand-in!] What? So I was a replacement? I nodded slowly. “Oh. Then let’s get a divorce.” The light in her eyes went out at once. I looked at her and felt that I had forgotten to say something. Whatever. I would say it when I remembered.

When Ryder's professor sent him yet another email, he glanced around his cold, empty home. Faced with Seth's relentless provocations, Ryder made up his mind—he would leave Laura. With the wedding fast approaching, Ryder decided to give Laura the perfect ceremony—one that would please both her and Seth. His departure, however, would be the biggest surprise of the event. But after Ryder walked away, Laura looked at the groom standing at the altar, lost control, and destroyed the wedding in a fit of madness.

I took my in-laws to our place for Christmas without telling my wife. It was supposed to be a surprise, but the moment George, my father-in-law, stepped into the house, my wife's assistant shoved him. He crashed into the shoe cabinet and threw out his back. "Ms. Sampson's villa doesn't let homeless people in. I can't believe you're her father-in-law. Look at you. Even a homeless guy wears better than you." I told the maid to hold George, but the male assistant stopped me again. He even shoved my mother-in-law, Diane. "You think you own this place? That's Ms. Sampson's maid. It's enough she has to serve a leech like you. You don't get to make her serve your parents." The fury consumed Diane whole, and she had a heart attack. I called my wife and asked her to come to the hospital. Wendy Sampson, however, shrugged it off. Scoffing, she said, "Zack told me everything. I can't believe you brought your parents to my house! And you want me to see your mother? She's faking her heart attack! I know she is! I want them out of my house! So what if they die? Best Christmas gift I could ever hope for."

Drenched in mud, I've just climbed down the scaffolding and started munching on a cold piece of stale bread when a luxury car speeds past me, effectively drenching me in muddy water. The car window on the driver's side is quickly lowered. A sleazy guy hurls a pack of cigarettes in my face the next moment. "Hey, peasant! This is a reward for you! I got really lucky today, after all!" While I pick up the cigarette pack silently, the man happens to be boasting loudly to the woman sitting in the front passenger seat. "My brother-in-law really is an idiot! He seriously thinks that my sister has a terminal disease! He went to the black market last night night just to sell his blood in exchange for 200 thousand dollars' worth of surgical fees! I end up winning double in the casino with that money of his! "My sister told me that once that idiot gets his hands on the work injury compensation, she'll divorce him right away and buy me a new home!" I grip the bread so hard that it crumples in my hand. After all, my wife, Estella Wilson, was just diagnosed with "late-stage stomach cancer" yesterday. Suddenly, I feel my phone buzzing in my pocket. It's a voice message from Estella. "Hubby, it hurts so much going through the chemotherapy! The doctor told me that I'd be eligible for better medication if we could cough up another 200 thousand dollars. Can you please plead to the foreman and borrow some money from him?"

I've worked with my wife, Naomi Prescott, for seven long years. Yet, she refuses to make my identity public in the company. Naomi claims that she's worried that the entire company might think of me as a man who relies on his partner. Believing her excuse, I stick to myself and keep a low profile all this time. But on the day my project team secures a ten-million-dollar business deal, Naomi is quick to make me give the credit to her childhood friend, Matthias Crowell. When faced with my questions, Naomi retorts in a matter-of-fact tone, "Matt is new to the company. Can't a veteran employee like you take care of him at work?" I'm furious, to say the least. "What if I say no?" Naomi throws a resignation letter at my face. "Well then, you can pack up and get lost, you pathetic loser!" I pack my belongings calmly and leave the company afterward. Three days later, Naomi's company is on the brink of bankruptcy. She sobs loudly as she begs me to return with her. I produce a business card and give it to her. "Sorry, but I prefer being the boss of my own company. It so happens that my company still needs a janitor. I suppose I can reserve that position for you, seeing as we used to be married and all."