Slade Wilson Face Novels & Stories

My fiancé slapped me across the face in front of the entire academy. He did it to save face for another girl. That same day, I deleted every way he could reach me and announced that our engagement was over. No one believed me. Orion Draven and I grew up together. From the age of six to eighteen, I followed him like a shadow for twelve whole years. Everyone knew I loved him. Everyone knew I would forgive him. Even Orion thought so. On the day I left Ironhold Academy, he stopped me at the gate. For the first time, there was panic in his voice. “Why? Just because I hit you?” I looked him straight in the eye and said each word clearly. “Yes. Because you hit me.”

The day Yancy Shepherd died, Benedict Page poisoned our dinner. His eyes were wild, and bloodshot, as he watched me writhe in agony. There was a madness in his gaze, but worse was the hatred, a disgust so deep it twisted his face into something unrecognizable. "If it weren't for you forcing your way into our lives, Yancy wouldn’t have died from heartbreak. You ruined us! It’s all your fault!" A photo slipped from his trembling hand and landed at my feet—Yancy at twenty, looking radiant, her smile as bright as a blooming flower. I collapsed to the ground, my strength fading fast like a rose withering in the final grasp of winter. Helpless, I waited for the darkness to claim me, consumed by despair and bitter regret. Why hadn’t I listened to the system and killed him when I had the chance? But when I opened my eyes again, everything was different. I stood watching Benedict flee our engagement ceremony. My brother moved to chase after him, but I quietly raised a hand, stopping him. This time, things would be different.

In an interview with the famous billionaire, Richard Wilson, the host asked him; "What's the one thing you regret the most?" On screen, Richard holding his mistress's hand, blurted out; "I regret the first day I allowed the thought of divorcing Flora to cross my mind." The hall went silent. Browses knitted in confusion, mouths left agape in shock. His mistress, Debby Jones flinched in embarrassment. How she wished, the ground should open up and swallow her whole. No one could believe that Richard Wilson would still choose his ex wife, Flora Blake after the embarrassment she brought to him just a month after their glamorous wedding. In a turn of events, Flora Blake was asked, "Did you ever regret cheating on your husband, just a month after your wedding? Sources had it that six years ago, you left without any form of remorse." Flora smiled, her eyes rolling between the anxious crowd and the pathetic face of the man she once took an oath to love till death. "My only regret is not cheating on him earlier than that. Like, let me say...a day after our wedding." "What?" "This woman got some shameless nerves!" "She isn't even grateful that billionaire Richard is willing to take her shitty ass back!" ***** Murmurs of different intensity filled the atmosphere. What the crowd never knew was that there's one secret of the Wilsons only known to Flora, and to protect this, they can forgive even the dirtiest crime above adultery so long as Flora will promise not to spew any word regarding such. But now that Flora's mind has toughened up over the years, is there any amount of compensation that can make her to let go of the past and embrace the undiluted love she once desired for a lifetime?

My best friend and I were in relationships with the brothers from the Wilson Family, and we both got pregnant at the same time. She flaunted her relationship publicly, making everyone in Junopia know that Rick had left the monastery for her. On the other hand, I kept silent about my relationship with the heir of the Wilson Family. Thus, everyone mistakenly thought I was single. That was until my best friend saw my pregnancy report. In a fit of rage, she rallied a group of friends, stormed into my dorm, and vandalized my room with food waste. "I thought you were my best friend, and here you are, trying to steal my man," she accused. Not only did she live-stream this accusation, trying to paint me as the other woman, but she also spiked my chicken soup, hoping to get rid of my unborn child. In defiance, I poured the contaminated soup over her head. "Just so you know, Rick isn't the only Wilson brother," I retorted. Later, Rayden, the man who controlled Junopia, wrapped his arm around me and declared icily, "I've heard troubling rumors about my wife being called a mistress. We need to talk."

I was locked in a fridge for 40 days while the uncensored photos of me spread like wildfire across the internet. In the face of the salacious rumors about me, my mother reacted by reposting them. Then, she turned to warn my sister, "Look at how disgusting the entertainment industry is. Don't join it, alright? Stay home and inherit your sister's assets instead. My dearest daughter must be innocent and pure, unlike her." She forgot. She forgot I only joined this 'disgusting' industry to pay for her cancer treatment.

My father-in-law said he wanted to experience "how the young folks have fun these days," so I took him to my wife's newly opened upscale cocktail bar for a quiet drink. I’d just finished ordering him a custom cocktail when a man from a booth across the room swaggered over, glass in hand. His eyes scanned the drink menu on our table, and a condescending smirk twisted his lips. "Only ordering the cheapest well drinks?" he sneered. "Brought the old man here to enjoy the free air conditioning? Trash like you belongs in a dive bar. Who even let you in here?" Anger burned in my chest. I stood up, my jaw clenched. "We're paying customers. What's it to you?" But before I could say another word, his face darkened with pure rage. He snatched the half-finished beer bottle from our table and smashed it on my head. "My girl owns this place!" he snarled. "Even if I crack your skull open, I can afford the payout! You filthy pauper—either get on your knees and lick my shoes dry, or get the hell out of my sight. You're an eyesore." The beer dripped down my face. My hands trembled with fury as I wiped it away. Then, a cold calm settled over me. I opened my phone, switched to the camera, and went live. "Alright, everyone," I said into the screen. "You won't want to miss this. We're going live to catch my cheating wife and see the double life she's been leading."

My father-in-law was clinging to life after a car accident. The only way he'd survive is if I—a top surgeon—operated on him myself. I'd just changed into my scrubs when my wife, Clara Stevens, rushed in and grabbed my arm. "You're not going anywhere. The priority is protecting Rick's face. Not a single scar, you hear me?" I pulled away. "Dad has minutes left. If we miss the window, he's gone." Clara didn't even flinch. "That worthless country bumpkin father of yours was born a burden. If he dies, he dies—at least we won't have to take care of him anymore. But if Rick's face gets ruined, I swear you'll pay." Her first love, Rick Ford, tugged her sleeve with a fake whimper. "Clara, your husband seems pretty upset. You think he's stalling on purpose? Trying to hurt me?" I was so angry, I just laughed. So that was the case. All along, Clara thought the one dying… was my father.

The story of 'EVERY WOMAN CANNOT BE PRETTY' is a message to millions of women around the world who feel inferior due to their average looks that ‘ Beauty is not in the face alone.’ The protagonist in this story, Sarah Liam suffers from PCOS ( Polycystic Ovary Syndrome) with side effects of being obese, acne prone and having more than normal hair growth on face and body. To top it she is short in height and has a prominent mole on her chin. In all, she is not what one can call “pretty”. Her husband wants to use her as a sex toy, her best friend betrays her trust by sleeping with her husband. Faced with treachery by loved ones, shunned by many, at the brunt of the unkindest of jokes, the story shows how Sarah manages to rise like a Phoenix, hold her head high and eke revenge on the people who have cheated her, solely with the strength of her talent and grit. But with her flawed appearance, will she ever find true love? Can she ever aspire to marry a handsome man or will she have to settle for someone similarly flawed? Read on..

First day back in the office. I was face down at my desk during lunch when the desk next to mine started rattling under a series of hard knocks. I looked up. It was the firm's new architect, Flora Reeves. "Lunch time ended five minutes ago. You're still asleep at your desk? Don't bother coming in tomorrow. You're fired!" I told her I had just come back from a client meeting. I had been pulling all-nighters on the project for a week. She looked at me like I was something on her shoe. "All you do is take clients out, drink with them, and scribble a few sketches. "You don't even punch in. You're barely in the office. What gives you the right to nap at your desk during work hours?" I almost laughed in her face! I was the firm's chief architect. The bulk of the projects on Walsh & Co.'s books had my name on them. The firm's success was, frankly, carried by me. She saw me out of the office most days. She did not see me in another city, on another job site, talking down another client. And in our industry, most of those clients had hired Walsh & Co. because of my name and reputation. I kept my composure. "You're not in HR. On what authority are you firing me?" She said, "On the authority that my husband is the president of this company." I went still. When did my boyfriend get married?

On my boyfriend, Draco Leroyce's birthday, I take him to a newly-opened fancy restaurant of my own for his birthday meal. Thinking that we'll be having a birthday cake for dessert later, Draco and I decide to order a set meal that includes a pizza and a plate of pasta. With a smile, I hand the menu over to the waitress. She plasters a fake smile on her face as she grabs the menu. But she secretly calls us "broke ass bastards" in Virellian. I draw my brows into a deep frown instantly. "What did you just say?" The waitress is momentarily stunned. Then, she shoots me another fake smile. "I said I'll prepare your food right away." I just sneer back at the waitress before responding to her in fluent Virellian, "You were calling us broke ass bastards."