Nerissa Ravencroft Face Reveal

On Christmas Day, eight months pregnant, I struggled through the kitchen,cooking for my husband and his secretary. When I finally sat down, hoping to taste a piece of turkey I didn’t even get during Thanksgiving, my husband shoved me aside like I was nothing. He slid the turkey in front of his secretary instead. “Alison,you’re already so fat. Stop eating. Let Daisy have it—she deserves to enjoy your cooking.” Daisy，chewing on the turkey I had painstakingly prepared, had the audacity to mock me under the guise of playing truth or dare with my child. “So, what do you think your mom looks like?” “Mommy looks like a fat pig on a farm!” “Her stretch marks? They’re like disgusting worms crawling all over her. Even Santa would run for his life!” Their laughter erupted like daggers piercing me from all sides. Humiliation and rage burned through me as my dignity was stripped bare. I demanded an apology from that vile woman, but my husband—my husband!—turned his cold, cruel face toward me and said, “Get out of here.” Pregnant, exhausted, and humiliated, I stood there in shock. Then I snapped. I grabbed the Christmas cake and turkey and threw them in the trash. I walked out without looking back. This wretched family doesn’t deserve a second of my effort or a single ounce of my love!

On the night before the wedding, my fiancé’s female best friend, Marisol Vance, sent me a set of photos. In the photos, she wore the custom haute couture wedding gown I had commissioned, leaning into Lucian Drake’s arms, with a caption meant to provoke me: [Borrowing your groom and your dress for a moment—after all, Lucian said I look better in this than you do.] Soon after, my social feed was flooded with their so-called wedding photos. In the images, the two of them staged a mock kiss, the caption reading: [More than friends, not quite lovers. If we had been born ten years earlier, there would have been no place for anyone else.] I held up the photos and confronted Lucian, yet he played his game indifferently, then tossed his phone aside, his face full of impatience. “I told you, it was just for fun—a way to commemorate our youth. Can you stop acting like a shrew? She was just diagnosed with depression. What’s wrong with me comforting her?” Looking at his self-righteous expression, I smiled. “Fine. Since your bond is so unbreakable, I won’t play the villain.” That very night, I drafted a withdrawal agreement and halted the arrangements I had been making with a top-tier overseas medical team for his mother. “The wedding is off. Don’t expect me to keep patching up your bankrupt company, and don’t expect me to save your mother either. “Your youth is precious—I hope you can afford to pay the price to keep it so.”

Due to the change in my work location, I'd already informed Paul Miller, my part-time helper, to look for a job elsewhere three months ago. Back then, Paul had agreed to do so immediately. But when I'm about to move out of my old home, he made an absurd request to me. "I've spent so many years working for you to the bone. According to this industry's rules, you have to take care of me for the rest of my life. But if you refuse to do that, you can pay me a pension of ten thousand dollars every month." I'm stunned, to say the least. Did I hire a part-time helper, or did I find myself a financial burden instead? I turn Paul down immediately, so he decides to take a step back. "If you don't want to pay me, then give me this house of yours. I can't just leave without anything, right? It'll just show how petty of an employer you are. If not, I'll humiliate you in the group chat!" Fury floods my senses immediately. Fine. Let's see who will get humiliated here!

Evangeline has it all, the looks, the money, the men. She was unstoppable and took anything and everything she wanted with a smile on her face. The men adore her and the women yearned her friendship in secret even the most jealous of hearts. But will everything change at the appearance of a poor, part-timer, nerdy man?

“To escape a monster, she ran straight into the arms of a devil.” Lila Vance was a debt payment. Wrapped in fifty thousand dollars of French lace, she was minutes away from marrying Marcus Thorne—a man who whispered that she was nothing more than his "property." But Lila refused to be broken. With a ripped dress and a heart full of terror, she bolts from the altar and into the private elevator of the Grand Imperial Hotel. When the doors open, she finds herself in the lion’s den: the penthouse of Adrian Sterling, her fiancé’s most lethal rival. Adrian is a man carved from shadows and sin, a billionaire "Shark" who destroys legacies for sport. When Marcus comes to claim his prize, Adrian offers Lila a choice: go back to the man who will break you, or sign a one-year marriage contract with the man who will own you. As the line between their fake vows and real desire begins to blur, Lila must face a terrifying truth: Adrian Sterling didn't save her out of mercy. He saved her because she is the final piece in a game of revenge he’s been playing for years. In a game of power, who will be the first to break?

Everyone says I have the face of an angel. However, I choose to take a knife and slash my own beautiful face. When my twin sister sees the drastic change in my appearance, she loses it and screams at me, wanting to know why I ruined my face. In my past life, she couldn't stop stealing food deliveries. When our next-door neighbor caught her, she shoved the pregnant woman so hard that she miscarried. The woman was seven months along, and both she and her baby died. But my sister just shrugged it off, bragging that she was some popular influencer, and two pathetic lives didn't matter. She even slapped down a 50-dollar bill like it was nothing, just to humiliate them. "Still trying to scam my money? For all we know, that woman's baby was already dead inside her. Your family must've done pretty awful things to deserve losing two lives like that!" When the dead woman's family showed up at our door with kitchen knives, ready for revenge, my sister chickened out and hid. Before that, she tricked me into coming home instead. The second I walked up to our front door, the grief-stricken husband slashed at my neck, severing the artery. I died right there on the spot. After I died, everyone spat on my memory. They all said I got what I deserved, and my parents covered up what my sister really did. She even had the nerve to come forward and apologize for me, cashing in on my death while hooking up with my boyfriend. The two of them became this perfect couple online and made tons of money. This time around, I decide to destroy my face. I want to see how she will steal my identity and pin her crimes on me now!

At the company team-building event, I got called out by my colleague Samantha Rowler for not removing my price tag—she accused me of being a "freebie chaser." "Oh wow, Carla, you drive a BMW 5 Series. Are you seriously planning to return your clothes within seven days too?" she sneered. I tucked the tag back in and ignored her snide remark. But after the event, as soon as I got home, my phone started blowing up. My chat apps were going insane. A friend had sent me a link: [Luxury-Car Executive Turns Out to Be a Return Addict!] Someone had filmed me leaving the price tag on and posted it to a short-video platform. I opened the comment section and was met with a barrage of insults. [Can't afford to live, huh? Tag warrior.] [Is this car a sugar-daddy gift? Those who know, know.] [OMG, does this woman have some kind of illness? Which brand is this so I can avoid it!] I immediately knew Samantha was behind it. I messaged her to delete the video. Instead, the next second, she blocked me—and pinned a comment to the top of the thread: [You can know a person's face but never their heart!] I was about to post a statement to clarify, my finger hovering over the send button, when I noticed the video's likes had already shot past ten thousand. I laughed. If they wanted a scene, fine—let's make it bigger. I quickly posted a new update: [The outfit is really nice. I'll wear it again next time.] The netizens erupted. The insults doubled, the heat skyrocketed, and the post shot straight to number one trending. I just put my phone down and went to sleep.

Ivy is wolfless, and she feels the weight of her pack's expectations on her shoulders. As a member of the Hidden Valley Pack, she's expected to find her fated mate and settle down. But even when Ivy approaches her twentieth birthday, she still hasn't found her mate, and her pack members are starting to question her, making her feel like a failure. Desperate to save face, she comes up with a plan to ask the handsome and popular college baseball player and a pack Alpha, Ryder, to pretend to be her mate. When Ivy approaches Ryder with her proposal, he initially scoffs at the idea. But Ivy knows that Ryder has a secret that could threaten his position as Alpha, and she uses this knowledge to her advantage. She makes a with Ryder: if he pretends to be her mate, she won't reveal his secret to the pack. Ryder is initially furious with Ivy's blackmail, but he eventually realizes that he has no other choice. But what will happen when they find that it's more complicated than they thought to keep their feelings in check?

Three months after my baby was born, I found out my husband, Joe, was cheating. The other woman? Hailey. Pregnant and smug. Joe actually got on his knees, begging for a divorce. I said yes. Until I could find a place, Joe's mom, Claudia, let me stay at the house. "Hailey," Claudia said, "you'll handle all the household responsibilities now." Hailey, all fake enthusiasm, chirped, "I'll take good care of this family!" Claudia replied, "Great. You'll start your day at five making breakfast. When Luca's hungry, you'll feed him and change his diapers. Once he's down for a nap, clean the house, grocery shop, and prep lunch. Laundry in the afternoon, tea service mid-day, then bathe Luca and cook dinner. After that, you'll put him to bed." Hailey's face? Priceless.

My name is Dakota Wetherby. On the very day my husband, Theodore Aldridge, and I get legally married, he brings his ex-girlfriend, Sofia Moretti, into our home. "Sofia recently suffered a miscarriage, so she's going through a very difficult time. I'm genuinely worried about her," he says. "We're just friends. It's only natural for friends to comfort each other," he adds. Sofia is Theodore's college sweetheart. Rumor has it they separated on good terms when she went abroad for further studies. Clad in Theodore's jacket, she curls up on our bed. Her pale, ashen face is streaked with tears. "I'm so sorry, Dakota. I had no idea you two were getting married today. "I was too upset and didn't know who else to reach out to, so I called Theo. "He was only comforting me because I lost my child. It's completely my fault for overstepping and ruining your wedding day. "You can ask for whatever compensation you want. Just please don't blame Theo for this." I hold the freshly issued marriage certificate from the courthouse and walk up to her. "Since you've brought it up, I suppose I'll reluctantly accept your compensation. "Theodore and I are married for business reasons, with billions in projects hanging in the balance. "Tell me, how exactly do you plan to make up for all of that?"