Sniper Mask Face Reveal

My mother-in-law, Kylie McGowan, told me that she wanted to experience the life of the younger crowd, so I took her to my husband Jerome Callen's newly opened upscale bar for a quiet drink. I had just ordered her a signature cocktail when a woman from the booth across the aisle sauntered over, wine glass in hand. Her eyes flicked over the menu on our table, and she laughed mockingly. "Seriously? You ordered the cheapest drink on the menu? Did you bring this old lady here just to enjoy the free AC? People like you should stay in the gutter. This place isn't meant for penniless people!" I rose to my feet, holding back my temper. "We're paying for our drinks here. What does our drink choice have to do with you?" But she suddenly snapped, grabbed a half-finished beer bottle off a nearby table, and swung it at my head. "My husband's the owner of this bar! I could smash your skull in and still afford the damages! Get out, you pauper! Don't be an eyesore here!" I wiped the liquor off my face as my entire body shook with anger. Then I turned away, started my livestream, and spoke directly to my followers. "Look here, everyone! I'm going live to catch a cheater. Let's go explore my husband's other home."

For a decade, my world had been measured in laundry cycles, grocery lists, and the ever-growing pile of dishes in the sink. I was elbow-deep in soapy water, scrubbing the remnants of another family meal, when it happened. A sudden, silent cascade of text flickered at the edge of my vision, like subtitles for a movie only I could see: [Gosh, the heroine is so tragic. Her husband's entire family has been feeding on her luck like parasites!] [Her husband stole her graduate school admission and her career!] [The in-laws are literally siphoning her health away. No wonder she's always sick.] [And the sister-in-law took her "romance" stat! No wonder her love life is a desert.] [Heads up! Her husband's about to give her another "gift." Let's see how much more he takes from her this time.] My hands, clutching a greasy plate, froze. Right on cue, my husband, Tristan, sauntered into the kitchen. A smug, self-satisfied smile was plastered on his face as he took my wet hand. He slid a flimsy, garishly colored plastic bracelet onto my wrist. "Look what I got for you, sweetheart," he announced, his voice dripping with pride. "I made a special trip after work. Found it at the dollar store. It's romantic and economical, just like you always say you want. You love it, don't you?"

I'm the top salesperson at a tutoring center. Payday comes, and my commission is 50 cents. I'm so furious that I march straight to my boss to demand answers, but his secretary, Sasha Watson, steps in front of me. She digs through her pocket, pulls out 50 cents, and flicks it straight at my face in front of everyone. "Here's your 50 cents!" My ears ring. Heat crawls up my neck and into my skull. "Ms. Watson, this has to be a mistake. I closed 1.5 million dollars on my own last month. My team pulls in over three million dollars. My commission should be at least 200 grand." Sasha rolls her eyes. She reaches into her wallet, pulls out a dollar bill, and slaps it against my cheek. "Stop barking! Fine, I'll throw you a dollar. Keep the change!" I'm about to lose it. "My mom is still waiting on that 200 grand for her surgery. Without it, she could die." The coworkers around us start whispering. "50 cents? For the top salesperson? That's insane!" "Lower your voice. She's the boss's niece! What she says goes. Unless you want to get fired, pretend you didn't hear anything." I turn away, pull out my phone, and dial our biggest competitor. "I'm in. Five million dollars a year."

Nadin has sworn for revenge, as her husband of three years had betrayed her and had a thing with her stepsister. Then, before her eyes, her stepmother murdered her dad. Afterwards, she used acid on Nadin to kill her but only succeeded in damaging her face and body, which demanded plastic surgery. Fast forward to the present time, a year after she got out of a coma as a result of the acid poured on her. “I want revenge. I want all of them to go to hell.” This was Nadin trying to kill herself after she got out of being in a coma for a year, and she had been reflecting on how she had been betrayed and hurt by people that used to matter to her the most. “If you must do that, then you need at least to stay alive. Besides, the doctor didn't save you just for you to harm yourself.” Luciano, her adoptive guardian, tried to give her reasons to live. Nadin is back with a new face and identity to his ex-husband’s life with her little game of revenge, as she remembered every pain, betrayal, and heartbreak they caused her. Meanwhile, her ex-husband was desperate to do everything for her to turn heads over heels with her, as he had attained the height he wanted but lacked just one thing, which was true love. The woman he failed to cherish and love before now, currently he wants to love her unmeasurably in another face, as she reminds him of his ex-wife a lot. When revenge meets desperation for love, could Nadin's ulterior motives change along the line and her ex-husband get her love back?

After my engagement to Simon Page, he secretly planned a trip abroad with Yara Watson, the woman he had loved for years. The day before their departure, he was chatting with his friends and Yara in the lounge of a golf club. "Simon, you just got engaged, and you're already taking Yara on a trip. Aren't you afraid Rosalyn will find out?" Simon scoffed. "I hired a guy to pose as her suitor. He’ll keep her so occupied that she won’t have time to bother me. "If something really happens between them, even better. I can use it as an excuse to officially end the engagement and be with Yara openly." Standing outside the door, I trembled as his words sank in. Tears streamed down my face as I looked at the handsome man behind me, his expression filled with guilt. "Then let’s grant him his wish and get married." But just as I was preparing for the wedding, Simon suddenly knelt before me in agony. "Rosalyn, I was wrong. Please, don’t marry him!"

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!"

On Valentine's Day, my boyfriend invited me onto a cruise ship heading for the open sea. “Quinn, just endure it. The Godfather loves blonde, blue-eyed beauties like you. “Once you please him, all my gambling debts will be wiped clean!" At the auction, I was locked inside a golden cage. The starting bid was $3 million. Just as despair drove me to bite my tongue, the bulletproof glass of the most mysterious private box on the second floor exploded outward. The mafia godfather stepped through the shattered glass. Shards crunched beneath his feet, and smoke curled from the muzzle of his gun. He looked exactly like my ex-boyfriend from five years ago. Back then, he was a bodyguard I had once slapped in public and kicked to the curb like an abandoned dog. His eyes were bloodshot as he grabbed my chin, smiling with an icy menace. "Sophia, you're not getting away this time."

I spent six months and a quarter million dollars to secure a week in Sicily. But when my husband’s childhood obsession, Chiara, cried nostalgia into his ear, Dante didn’t hesitate. He removed my name from the armored motorcade roster and replaced it with hers. He told me to take a commercial flight alone through rival family territory—a route where three associates had “disappeared” last month. The entire famiglia supported Dante’s decision without a single thought for my safety. So I changed my itinerary. I boarded a plane to Monaco instead of Palermo. I spent three months at the roulette tables, ignoring their frantic calls. That was when the famiglia started to bleed…

Drew Anderson's beloved stepsister, Lisa Anderson, severely injured a pack member with wolfsbane. Drew wanted me to take the fall. He said that as long as I confessed, he would formally make me his Luna. Drew placed a forged confession in front of me. "Freya, you're the only one who can help me. I swear I'll protect you forever." After he finished speaking, I saw Lisa hiding behind him with a victorious smile on her face. I looked at Drew's pleading expression and silently picked up the feather quill. Just as the tip was about to touch the parchment paper, my phone lit up with two new messages. One was from Drew. [Don't worry. I've already spoken to the Council of Elders. You'll only be locked up for a few days.] The other was from his sworn nemesis, Liam Kramer. A video clip was attached. [The real evidence is in my hands. Interested in making a different choice?] I deleted Drew's message and replied to Liam. [What is the choice?]

Ten days before the wedding, my fiancée spent over a hundred million to buy Marcus Collins a luxury yacht. So, I silently threw away the matching rings I had once planned to give her. Seven days before the wedding, she spent 50 million dollars to celebrate Marcus' birthday. Thus, I set fire to the photo album that held every memory of our past. Three days before the wedding, she wore the ring I had used to propose, and she kissed him deeply by the sea. Today, I finally chose to step aside. I notified our families and friends that the wedding was canceled, and I personally returned the engagement tokens to the Yardley family. Lowering my head, I said softly, "Mr. and Mrs. Yardley…I've always known I'm not worthy of Claire. I hope you can understand."