Deadpan Expression Novels & Stories

The new intern always claimed to have the company’s best interests at heart, but her actions told a different story. To cut costs, she secretly swapped the two-thousand-dollar gift basket I had prepared for a client with a knockoff version she bought online for just two dollars, shipping included. During a critical overtime session, she turned off the power to save on electricity. Then, she boldly suggested canceling the company’s annual holiday leave. With a self-righteous expression, she declared, “The company doesn’t support freeloaders. I believe the holiday season is the perfect time to boost sales. I propose everyone work unpaid overtime and dedicate themselves selflessly to the company!” While the employees grumbled in frustration, I stepped up to refute her absurd suggestion and spoke out on behalf of the team. But instead of backing down, she accused me of embezzlement in front of everyone and recommended to the boss that I be fired. The shocking part? The boss agreed. Fine. If that was how they wanted it, I couldn’t wait to see how the company would function without me.

“This is Abraham Blackwood, heir to the Blackwood empire, one of the richest families in the country." The moment I stepped ahead, he turned slowly and my breath caught in my throat. The shock of seeing him again struck me like a bolt of lightning. No… It can’t be him. But it was. Sitting there, casually sipping tea, was him—the man from the bar. The same piercing blue eyes locked onto mine, his expression shifting from mild amusement to disbelief. His sharp blue eyes pierced through the room and locked onto mine with an intensity that made my breath freeze in my throat. I couldn’t move, couldn’t speak. The memories of the night in the bar flooded back—his arrogance, his rude comments, his piercing gaze that had felt so unsettling. I stared at Alexander, still in shock. The man sitting across from me wasn't just any stranger. He was a billionaire—an heir to a vast fortune. My brother had been friends with him for years, and their families had arranged this marriage as part of a business partnership.

My roommate won first prize in the national lottery, a full 100 million dollars. She quit her job on the spot, blocked her boss, and said to me, "Amanda, from now on, we'll live in Luxuria Heights, eating the best food and living it up." We went on shopping sprees at Hermès and treated Michelin restaurants like our daily canteen. On moving day, she told me to go ahead to the top-floor luxury apartment and wait for her. She said she needed to pick up a package. Excited, I entered the password she had given me. "Beep. Incorrect password." I was just about to try again. Then, the door opened. The person who came out was not my roommate but a stranger in a suit. He looked at me and frowned. "Who are you? Why do you have the password to my home?" I was stunned. "This is Lydia Zaydn's apartment. Who are you?" The man's expression turned strange. "Lydia Zaydn? I've lived here for five years. I've never heard of that name."

“Little wolf,” he murmured, “tell me where that son of a bitch touched you.” I tensed, then frowned in confusion. “Wh–what do you mean?” His expression darkened when I asked. “I want every place he touches to remember only me, because you are my mate. And no one has the right to touch you.” *** On the night of her fifth anniversary, Natalia Russo thought she would be cherished. Instead, she was betrayed, stabbed, and left to die by her very own mate and her stepsister. But death wasn’t the end. She wakes up five years in the past, a day before her wedding; alive, unbroken, and no longer the fool they once used. This time, she refuses to love blindly. She rejects her mate, shatters their plans, and begins a ruthless game of revenge. But what happens when she starts falling for the Alpha who made her childhood miserable…her worst bully who has a secret of his own. And why does her heart race whenever he’s near?

I was hit by a car and suffered a brain injury while trying to save my fiancé. Before I was taken to the hospital, I accidentally saw him locked in a kiss with his assistant, Sarah Mineli. I suspected he was cheating, so after I woke up, I pretended to have amnesia to test him. "Do we know each other?" Ethan Meyer paused, his expression faltering. Then he suddenly pointed at his best friend. "I'm your fiancé Grayson Hudson's closest friend. I came to attend your engagement ceremony." I watched as he and Sarah stood there, their fingers tightly intertwined, my face turning deathly pale. Grayson stepped forward and draped his coat over my shoulders. "Baby, I'm your fiancé," he said softly. "It's my fault I couldn't protect you." I felt the warmth of his palm and gave a faint smile. "Then let's go home," I said. "We still have an engagement ceremony to prepare for."

At Sullivan Group's annual banquet, a female university student approaches Peter Sullivan and offers herself to him. The usually cold and distant Peter suddenly freezes because this young woman looks exactly like his deceased first love. He can't help but tease, "You're asking to be my mistress in front of my wife. Are you so sure you won't be thrown out?" The young lady lifts her chin, and her stubborn expression is identical to that of his lost love. "You two got married for business reasons and mutual benefits. Does she have any say over what you do? Peter, only you can save my mom. Will you do it or not?" She's right. I'm just a pawn in a marriage of convenience. How could I possibly influence Peter's choices? But then, I catch a glint of tenderness in his eyes that I've never seen before, and a self-deprecating smile forms on my lips. Maybe, instead of clinging on and being thrown out like trash, it's better if I give up my place willingly.

I suddenly got a call from the police, telling me I was involved in an abandoned baby case. My best buddy was holding me up as we rushed to the scene when Shirley Dunn, the girl who had asked me for directions last week, suddenly pointed straight at me. "That's her. I saw her this morning, holding her stomach, going into the restroom! Now the baby's been born, and her belly's flat!" I was completely stunned. Before I could react, she shoved the newborn straight into my arms. "This is your own flesh and blood! How could you abandon him?" The officer's expression was equally severe. "Miss, I understand that becoming a mother at 20 can be scary, but abandoning a baby is a crime. If you didn't want to raise a child, you shouldn't have had one." More and more college students gathered around, their stares stabbing into me like needles. Cold sweat soaked my back. My best friend suddenly burst out laughing. "Congrats, man! You're a dad now!"

"I've transferred the three hundred-dollar rent to you. Thanks, Samuel." A contact named Misty has sent my husband, Samuel Tucker, a message on WhatsApp. I snatch his phone immediately, only to be stunned by what I see. "Rent? Samuel, you told me that this is the income you earn from your part-time job!" Samuel's expression freezes on his face. Then, he tries to snatch his phone back. "Darling, my brother has already passed away. It's difficult for Misty to raise two children on her own…" As I caress my tiny baby bump with a hand, I feel my heart sinking at his words. "Which residence is this rent for?" Samuel parts his lips hesitantly. A long time later, he finally tells me the residential area's name. I'm completely flabbergasted at that point. The luxurious apartment sitting in that particular area is an asset that my deceased parents have left for me. Also, the rent there is worth 10,000 dollars. Yet, Samuel has rented it out to my widowed sister-in-law, Misty Patterson, and her children for only 300 dollars!

“You can still walk away,” he said, his voice lower now. I shook my head. “I don’t want to.” Something in his expression softened, just slightly. Then he stepped closer. Close enough that I could feel the warmth of his body, the steady rhythm of his breathing. For a second, neither of us moved. Like we were both waiting, deciding. His hand lifted, hesitating just slightly before brushing against my jaw, tilting my face up to his. “Last chance,” he murmured. I didn’t answer, I didn’t need to. I closed the distance instead. The kiss wasn’t soft. It was searching, deliberate. Like he was testing something, me. And I responded before I could stop myself. Before I could think. My fingers curled into his shirt, pulling him closer as the world around us slipped further out of reach. The hesitation was gone now. Replaced by something heavier, something I didn’t want to question. And this time, I didn’t think.

I was setting up a weekend shopping list on the tablet my husband had just replaced for our home system. A notification popped up. He had forgotten to log out of a shared, encrypted family calendar— one I didn’t recognize. There was only one unfamiliar profile photo. I tapped it. A list titled “My Little Princess – Personal Notes” filled the screen. My Little Princess doesn’t drink alcohol—only mineral water or herbal tea. No late nights. She needs absolute quiet to sleep. She gets anxious easily—keep fresh white lilies in the house and her favorite vanilla chocolates on hand. I scrolled slowly, my expression unreadable. The final entry was bolded. Highlighted. “Next Wednesday: take my Little Princess to choose her wedding crown.” I closed the screen. Then I picked up my phone and called my husband. “Love,” I said gently. “Does your Little Princess prefer a classic European bridal crown… or something more traditional? I thought I could help you choose.”