Sally Face Plot Novels & Stories

My Alpha brother's Omega assistant had always wanted to be Luna. She didn’t know my identity and she mistook me as a rival trying to steal her place. She framed me for theft and tortured me without mercy. As I lay dying, it was my old companion—Rex, the Siberian war dog who had fought beside my brother and earned the highest military honors—who sacrificed his life to protect me. She dragged me by my hair, smugly satisfied, and threw me before the crowd like refuse. In her hands, she flaunted her "gift" made from Rex's fur. She had no idea she was about to face the fury of the entire werewolf world.

On the day my internship officially turned into a full-time job, I used the black card my dad gave me to buy a bicycle. The moment Karen Kosner—the office's self-appointed queen of frugality—found out, her face went dark. "Two hundred thousand on a crappy bike? You're not afraid karma's gonna strike you dead for throwing money away like that?" The veins in her forehead bulged, her expression twisted with rage. "What's the point of this useless thing? You can't eat it. A bus pass would've made way more sense. My brother's out there busting his hump for every hard-earned dollar, and you're spending like water. Keep this up, you'll make him jump off a roof." My face dropped. I rubbed the sore spot on my forehead where she'd jabbed me. "Are you out of your mind? I'm spending my own family's money. What the hell does that have to do with your brother or your family?" Karen kept muttering under her breath, but I wasn't about to stand there listening to her crap. I turned and went to get some water. When I came back, the black card in my bag was gone. She leaned toward me, still playing the part of the vicious future sister-in-law. "Who knows which random guy gave you that card. Trashy. I threw it away, so get real and live right with my brother. "From now on, every penny you spend has to go through me. You buy something only if I say yes. I need to break you of this reckless spending habit." My temples throbbed with anger. Fine. So she thought she was some kind of financial genius, did she? We'd settle this nice and slow—once she lost her job and got blacklisted by the entire industry.

My five-year marriage with Alexander was like a couture gown, ripped to shreds. "I want Victoria to show your collection for the New York Fashion Week spring preview." My husband Alexander's voice cut through the sketch I was working on. I stopped drawing. I must have heard him wrong. "What did you say?" "Victoria is new. She needs a platform. Your new spring collection is the perfect springboard for her." "You're a showstopper every year. What's the harm in giving her one shot?" he asked, his tone as casual as if he were discussing the weather. "Besides, the brand needs new blood." I stared at the man I'd spent five years with. Suddenly, his face looked sharp, unfamiliar. "Do you have any idea how many nights I've stayed up working on this collection? And you want to give it to some new assistant?" "Evelyn, don't be so petty. It's just a preview." His expression turned cold. "I've already decided." I clenched my fists, a thousand emotions churning inside me. Fine. If you're going to treat me like this, don't blame me for leaving you.

By a twist of fate, my husband, Morgan Lancaster, and I perish together in a sea of flames. When I open my eyes again, I find myself back on the very day we received our marriage certificate. In my previous life, we appeared to be a loving couple in the eyes of others, yet Morgan refused to share a bedroom with me the entire time we were married. It was only moments before our deaths that I discovered I was merely a substitute for his first love and that he had chosen to remain chaste for her for life. After getting another chance at life, neither of us mentions the past. Instead, by mutual understanding, we file for divorce that same day. From that point on, we go our separate ways. Eight years later, Morgan shows up arm in arm with his childhood sweetheart, Freya Springer, at a business summit. He is now a prominent and celebrated rising star in the business world. Seeing me dressed in a plain outfit, he approaches with a glass of champagne. His tone drips with mockery as he asks, "Ms. Smith, even if you still have feelings for me, there's no need to dress like a waitress just to get close to me. You aren't hoping for a reconciliation, are you?" I say nothing and simply smile as I wave at someone in the distance. My son, Theo Coltrane, toddles over and tugs at the hem of my shirt. "Mommy, Daddy says that he's tired from waiting so long. When are you coming home with us?" The smile on Morgan's face freezes instantly, and he nearly loses his grip on the glass in his hand.

My mother said I was a born beauty and was able to charm any man. She told me not to touch a man before my twentieth birthday. In the previous timeline, I listened to her, so when a wealthy heir was dosed with an aphrodisiac, I pushed him away when he tried to take me into his embrace. But the effects of the skincare routine I did transferred to my mother after my twentieth birthday. I used face masks, but my face became wrinkled and spotted. Meanwhile, my mother glowed with smooth and youthful skin. I danced, but I only became fatter while my mother became slim. Seeing how I looked like a fifty-year-old woman, my father called me a useless piece of trash and wanted to marry me off to a bald man as his second wife. I cried and begged my mother for help. But she said this was for my own good, her twenty-something face a mask of hypocrisy. I was forced to run away from home, but doing so only sped up my aging. Three days later, I died on the streets right by a trash heap. When I opened my eyes again, I found myself back in time to the night I met that rich heir. This time, I did not push him away but straddled him in bed.

Richard Montague, a rich heir in Durmask, has just posted a new tweet on Twitter. The accompanying photo features a luxurious winery. The caption reads, "My wife loves this place a lot, so I bought it immediately." I tap on the photo, soon realizing that this is Amie Winery, the same place that I had briefly mentioned to Richard last week. Then, I recall the fact that he has told me that he's prepared a surprise anniversary gift for me in a mysterious tone. So, this winery must be the gift! With a wide smile on my face, I respond to his tweet in the comment section. But three minutes later, Kiara York, a popular celebrity from the same company that I'm in, quickly proclaims her love for Richard on the Internet. "Wow, my husband is so generous! I'm very satisfied with this gift!" All the onlookers and fans begin shipping Kiara and Richard like mad overnight. "What a sweet relationship! As expected of the rich heir in Durmask! Even the way he announces his relationship is very domineering!" The whole turn of events leaves me feeling stunned. Once I realize that Kiara is just trying to ride on the coattails of Richard's popularity, I quickly post a picture of my marriage certificate online. It comes with a caption. "If she's the legitimate wife, then who am I?" But Kiara soon posts a marriage certificate of her own. To my surprise, there's a photo attached to the certificate. Richard's face is shown in the photo. Kiara mocks me, "There's a limit to being a lunatic fangirl, you know! Rick and I are husband and wife by law! You can't just slap a Photoshopped picture here and pretend that he's your husband!" As I stare at both copies of the marriage certificates, which show the courthouse's stamp, I fall in deep contemplation. Then, I look at the place Kiara tagged on her Twitter comment. Finally, I can't resist calling Richard, who's currently overseas. "How dare you engage in bigamy behind my back!"

At the peak of my career, my husband slapped me in public.  With a look of disgust, he said, “Tess, you’re pathetic. You made Grace fail the class because you’re jealous. Don’t you know she’s applying for a scholarship?” Caught off guard, I stumbled and fell to the ground, clutching my stomach as pain surged through me. I knelt there, begging him to take me to the hospital.  However, all he did was swat my hand away and sneer. “Quit the act! Aren’t you just a useless woman who can’t get pregnant?” At that moment, my heart felt like it had shattered into a million pieces. It wasn’t long before bystanders intervened, insisting on taking me to the hospital. Unfortunately, it was too late to save the baby. Once the surgery was over and the reality of what had happened sank in, I turned to him and demanded a divorce.

I had been married for seven years when I invited my widowed stepsister, Mable Stark, to stay with us for a while. I never imagined I'd catch her flirting with my husband, Lester Kaine, on our balcony. Blinded by rage, I chose to end it all for the three of us. But when I open my eyes again, I'm back on Valentine's Day—the day she and I both fall into the water. This time, Lester doesn't hesitate to save Mable. Then, he hires paparazzi to take photos of me in explicit angles just to ruin my reputation. With my name dragged through the mud, my dad cuts all ties with me. Four years later, Lester returns as a world-renowned lawyer with the pregnant Mable. They cling to each other like an enviable, loving couple. When Lester spots me singing in a private lounge, he starts mocking me. "Erica, four years have gone by, and you've ended up singing in bars. "If you'd just admit you were wrong, I might consider helping you find a better job. You shouldn't have to waste away in a place like this."

I left Seaport for Crellan, thinking I was about to marry Bryson. Instead, I got drugged and kidnapped on our engagement day. Barely conscious, I caught him talking to his assistant. "Doctor and kidnappers—handled?" Bryson said. "Get her kidney. Lily's out of time." The assistant wavered. "She's not in great shape. This could ruin her." That gave Bryson a flicker of guilt—but it vanished quick. "She's not fragile like Lily. She's a broke student. If her kidney didn't match, she wouldn't be living like this. That's worth it." His face stayed ice-cold. I clenched my fist so hard my nails dug in, blood pooling in my mouth. So that was true Bryson—a monster in disguise. He thought I wanted to sell my health for some empty marriage. Too bad I never wanted it.

On Christmas Eve, my uncle, Garrett Wayne, takes a sip from the fancy whiskey I bought. Then, he points at me while grinning. "Well well well… I've been watching you since you were a kid, Flint. You were a bed-wetter when you were a little boy, and now that you're all grown up, you stay cooped in your parents' shop while running that social media account of yours. You don't have any skills at all. "My Ronnie, on the other hand, has an amazing job that will continue paying him and keeping him around no matter how hard times get. Small businesses like your family's will definitely crumble as soon as the tiniest change happens in the global economy!" All of my relatives roar in laughter at Garrett's quip. My cousin, Ronnie Wayne, pretends to be playing on his phone, though his grin has already become ear-splitting. Mom and Dad can only laugh along as well even though deep down they are very uneasy and anxious. I just gaze at Garrett coldly. In six hours, the blizzard apocalypse will descend onto this world. At the same time, a zombie outbreak will occur across the globe. In my previous life, Garrett, who had looked down on my family and me, didn't hesitate to push us into the upcoming zombie horde just to take over my parents' grocery store. In this lifetime, I swear that I will never let him off the hook! I'm about to pick up a plate of food and smash it onto Garrett's head when I hear a mechanical voice chiming in my head. "Ding! You have been bound with the Rage System! You may talk back and retort to others to your liking in exchange for supplies. The more arrogant you sound, the better supplies you'll receive!" As I look at Garrett's insufferable face, I let out a chuckle. "Oh yeah, I'm not skilled at all. But I suddenly remember this funny little thing. Uncle Garrett, you claimed that you had gone on a business trip to Brimstone eight years ago. But the truth is, you got arrested by the vice squad, right? "Does Aunt Cassia know about this?"