Sally Face Plot Novels & Stories

After my sister's appendectomy left her without both kidneys, I took a scalpel and held an entire hospital hostage. I locked twelve doctors and three patients in the morgue, announcing to the world they'd all been infected with HIV. With only three hours until the treatment window closed, the doctors, trembling and begging, swore that they knew nothing. I started a live stream, flashing a blood-stained scalpel. "You have three hours to find my sister's kidneys." I didn't care if they were already inside someone else.

My mother-in-law spreads lies about me having contracted an STD during my sister-in-law's wedding. When I hear this, I want to demand an explanation. However, my sister-in-law stops me and begs me to prioritize her happiness since it's her wedding. I hold myself back and wait until the reception is over. Later, my mother-in-law merely sweeps the matter under the rug and say she doesn't remember anything because she was drunk. However, the lies spread like wildfire. My neighbors scorn me, and my colleagues isolate me, treating me like a walking bacteria. I become dispirited from the constant mental distress and end up getting knocked by a car when I leave the house one day. I die from the accident. When I open my eyes again, I'm taken back to the day my mother-in-law lies about me having contracted an STD.

In my past life, my mother had adopted me out to my aunt, but kept my older sister close to her. I followed my aunt into the world of business and became a success that everyone envied. My sister, consumed by jealousy over my life, seduced my husband. To claim my fortune, she even schemed to burn down my villa. But she hadn't counted on the fire spreading too fast—we both perished in the blaze. Reborn, I now had a second chance. And of course, my sister was the first to step forward, claiming she should be my aunt's daughter. I smiled. Things were panning out just as I'd hoped.

Right before my sugar daddy’s untouchable first love was about to return, he told me to get along with her. “She knows about us?” I ask. David nodded. “I told her. Anyway, we’ll be living together.” I take a sharp breath. After all, was this first love really that open-minded? As a diligent and professional sugar baby, I’d do my absolute best to win her over. [Baby, I’m David’s sugar baby. The three of us living well together is what matters most.] [Baby, don’t worry. I have a very high tolerance for morally questionable situations!] We chatted enthusiastically for an entire month until she returned. Wait. Wasn’t the man standing in front of me, over six feet tall, David’s sworn enemy?

My sister and I are twins, but my mom never liked me. Once I secured admission to a prestigious university, my mom insisted that I work to finance my sister's college education. However, my sister decided to abandon her college studies during her second year, driven by the desire to marry a man a decade older than her. Things took a dark turn when her boyfriend was involved in a hit-and-run accident. My sister drained my medical treatment funds to keep him out of jail, even if it meant jeopardizing my own well-being. I didn't survive. I woke up again and had a second chance at life on the day when the admission results came out. My sister was crying and pleading, "Sister, can you let me go to college this time?" In this life, I won't give in to her demands.

Ten years of marriage, and my husband slid the divorce papers across his mahogany desk. "You contributed nothing to this family. Under the prenup, you walk away with nothing." "Consider this a courtesy. Ten thousand a year. A hundred grand for a decade of your youth." "Don't even think about touching a cent of family money." I smiled and signed. I'm the kind of woman who's already died once. The next day, I took that hundred-thousand-dollar check and walked straight into the territory of his most dangerous enemy—Dominic Salucci. The man who controls half the East Coast underworld looked at me like I was inventory he hadn't ordered. "Why should I help you?" I leaned in close. "Because I know every decision Vincent Moretti is going to make for the next ten years. Every property. Every shipping route. And I know about the son he's hiding in Zurich." He studied me for a long moment. Then he smiled. "Interesting." What he doesn't know—what Vincent doesn't know—is that in my last life, men like them buried me without a second thought. This time, I'm going to watch every last one of them kneel.

Three years after our divorce, I ran into Cole Allen again on the streets of Atlantica. I was there as a volunteer, handing out boxes of cold medicine, and he had become a homeless man, struggling to survive. It was ironic because our divorce had all started because of a box of cold medicine. “Two times a day. Two pills each time.” I handed the medicine to him, my tone calm, like I was speaking to a stranger. However, Cole’s eyes slowly turned red. “Sadie, you still hate me.” I didn’t look up. I kept passing out boxes of medicine to the people in line. “This box of medicine only costs one dollar. It’s very cheap, yet you forced me to sell my blood for money. Cole, how could I not hate you for that?”

On the day the Lowens go into bankruptcy, my best friend, Winona Quentin, dumps Justin Lowen on the spot. Meanwhile, I quickly swoop in and take Justin to a hotel for an unforgettable night together. Once the deed is done, Winona lies in the arms of Justin's best friend, Hunter Jackson, while laughing at me. "Robin, you don't have any standards at all! After all, you just went for the guy whom I dumped! He's nothing but a broke fool right now! Why do you still want to be with him?" When Winona isn't paying attention to me, I smile mysteriously. She really is an idiot. While Justin is broke, he's not stupid. Sooner or later, the Lowens will make a glorious comeback thanks to their connections and resources.

I gave my full support when my father decided to set aside $2.1 billion in trust funds for his three illegitimate kids. Things had been very different in my previous life. At the time, the company urgently needed capital for a new project, and I had convinced my father to postpone setting up the trusts. I never imagined the three of them would take it as an attempt to seize the family fortune for myself. Furious, they went street racing to vent their anger. The result was a fatal crash. The car was destroyed, and none of them survived. Under my leadership, the company continued to grow at an astonishing pace and eventually secured a place on the Fortune Global 500 list. Yet on the very day I received the title of Young Entrepreneur of the Year, my father got me drunk and ordered my limbs broken. As I lay there screaming in agony, I demanded to know why he was doing this to me. His reply was filled with venom as he crushed my fingers one after another. "If you hadn't been so greedy for the inheritance, Ethan and the others wouldn't have gone out to clear their heads. They never would have died in that crash." In the end, my father beat me to death. When my critically ill mother learned the truth, the shock took her life as well. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the very day my father decided to establish the trust.

My best friend, Cassidy Braun, earned a modest monthly salary of 2,800 dollars, only to constantly trash her doting husband with an annual income of 600,000 dollars, labelling him a broke loser. “That incompetent husband of mine can’t even afford a 20-carat diamond ring! “I have the looks that can bag me a billionaire. I must have been out of my mind to marry that piece of trash.” I chimed in. “You’re right. You’re practically a goddess. Only a Greek God stands a chance with you.” Eventually, Cassidy left her husband and hooked up with a trust-fund kid, just as she wanted. A year later, she was scammed out of every penny she owned and diagnosed with cancer. Fragile and broken, she came to me. “I heard that ex-husband of mine remarried and that he’s loaded now. Judging by the way he used to worship the ground I walked on, I bet he’ll drop the woman in a heartbeat if I ask to get back together.” I gave a dismissive nod while running my fingers along the new Birkin bag my husband had bought. “Oh, absolutely. He’s pretty wealthy now.”