The story Ninety-Nine Missed Calls is no longer available here

My mother was tied up in an abandoned warehouse rigged with explosives by a rival gang. The kidnappers sent a video, and the countdown showed only 30 minutes remaining. I called Vincent Porter, my fiance and a mafia Don, for help. He was the uncontested king of this district. If he appeared, no one would dare touch her. Vincent answered and said he would bring his men right away. However, halfway there, he suddenly claimed there was an emergency and ordered the convoy to turn around. Desperate, I drove toward the warehouse myself, watching the seconds tick down on the video as I called Vincent again and again. On the 99th call, Vincent finally picked up. Soft violin music played in the background. His voice was ice-cold. "Alice, don't use such childish stunts to get attention." "My mom is about to die…" "Then let her." The call ended. As the countdown hit zero, the explosion went off. Seconds later, Vincent's childhood sweetheart, Jenny Thorne, posted on Instagram. The photo showed the same hands that usually held guns now carefully trimming her nails. [Woke up from a nightmare. So grateful he's here. A Don's protection really does make you feel safe.] It turned out this was his so-called emergency. He had gone to comfort a woman frightened by a bad dream. Shattered beyond repair, I ended everything with a carefully staged death. Later, when I returned in glory as a queen, he stood before me, completely broken. He had been stripped of everything. He begged, "Alice, please don't leave me."