Se connecterShare
Mistake 2
Date de publication:
2026-02-25 17:10:26Unknown Caller
Arielle didn’t remember pressing the call button.
She only remembered staring at the empty space where Daniel’s number used to be saved… and then deciding she didn’t need it.
She knew it.
Her fingers moved on instinct.
Nine digits.
Her heart thudded violently in her chest as the phone rang. Once.
Twice.
Three times—
It clicked.
Arielle straightened on the bar stool, suddenly breathless.
“Hello.”
That voice.
Deep. Smooth. Controlled.
Not Daniel.
She blinked slowly. “You… sound different.”
A pause.
“I should hope so.”
Her brows furrowed. She pulled the phone away from her ear and squinted at the number. The screen blurred. She wiped it with the edge of her sleeve like that would fix her vision.
“Daniel?” she tried again, her voice softer now. Fragile.
“No.”
The single word was firm. Not confused. Not apologetic.
Just no.
Her stomach dropped.
“Oh.” She let out an awkward laugh. “Oh my God. I’m so sorry. I think I— I must’ve dialed the wrong number.”
Another pause.
Longer this time.
“You did.”
There was something about the way he said it. Not annoyed. Not amused either.
Interested.
She should hang up.
Instead, she sighed dramatically. “That’s so embarrassing. Can we both pretend this never happened?”
“That depends.”
Her lashes fluttered. “On what?”
“On whether you plan to cry again.”
Silence.
Her mouth fell open. “You heard that?”
“You were loud.”
Her face burned. “I was not.”
“You were.”
And there it was.
Something shifted in her chest. Not comfort. Not safety.
Awareness.
His voice was calm in a way that felt unnatural. Like someone who didn’t rush. Someone who didn’t react.
Someone used to being in control.
“Well,” she snapped defensively, “for your information, whoever you are, my ex ruined my life.”
“Mm.”
“Mm?” she mocked. “That’s all you have to say? Mm?”
“What would you prefer? Condolences? Threats?”
Her heart skipped.
“Threats?” she repeated, half-laughing.
“If he hurt you,” the man continued smoothly, “I could handle it.”
The way he said it made the noisy bar feel distant.
Arielle swallowed.
“Handle it how?”
Another pause.
Then softly, “You ask too many questions for someone who called the wrong number.”
Her breath caught.
This was strange. Very strange.
And yet…
She didn’t hang up.
“Why didn’t you hang up?” she asked suddenly.
“I was listening.”
“To a drunk stranger ramble?”
“Yes.”
“…Why?”
This time, the silence stretched so long she thought the call had dropped.
Then—
“You sounded honest.”
Her throat tightened unexpectedly.
No one had called her that in months.
Honest.
Not dramatic. Not emotional. Not unstable.
Honest.
She laughed weakly. “You don’t even know my name.”
“Tell me.”
She hesitated.
Why was she hesitating?
“It’s Arielle.”
The line went quiet.
And for the first time since the call started, something shifted on his end.
A subtle inhale.
“Arielle,” he repeated slowly.
Her name sounded different in his voice.
Measured.
Like he was committing it to memory.
“And you are?” she asked.
A faint exhale.
“No.”
Her eyes narrowed. “No?”
“No.”
“That’s not how introductions work.”
“I don’t do introductions.”
She scoffed. “Are you in witness protection or something?”
A beat.
“You could say that.”
She laughed again, shaking her head. “Okay, mysterious stranger. Well, thanks for not hanging up on me.”
“You’re welcome.”
She checked the time.
1:47 a.m.
“I should go before I embarrass myself further.”
“You already have.”
“Wow. Rude.”
A small pause.
Then—
“Get home safely, Arielle.”
Her stomach flipped.
“How do you know I’m not already home?”
“You’re not.”
She froze.
The music thumped around her.
“What makes you so sure?” she asked carefully.
“I can hear it.”
Her pulse quickened.
“You’re at a bar. Glass against marble. Ice. Music in the background. You’re seated. Not standing.”
She looked down at the counter.
Her fingers were tracing circles in condensation from her drink.
He was right.
Her chest tightened.
“You pay attention to details,” she murmured.
“Yes.”
Something about that answer felt like a warning.
She swallowed.
“Goodnight… whoever you are.”
A small pause.
Then softly—
“Goodnight, Arielle.”
The line disconnected.
---
Across the city, Kael Virelli lowered the phone slowly.
The room around him was silent.
Floor-to-ceiling windows overlooked Manhattan’s glittering skyline. Below, traffic flowed like veins of light.
He hadn’t moved the entire duration of the call.
Arielle.
Drunk. Emotional. Honest.
Careless.
He glanced at the screen again.
Unknown Number.
He should delete it.
He didn’t.
Instead, he pressed a button on his desk.
Within seconds, his security analyst appeared on the monitor.
“Yes, sir.”
Kael’s voice was calm.
“I need information on a number.”
A pause.
“Priority level?”
Kael’s eyes darkened slightly as he replayed her laugh in his head.
“Immediate.”
The analyst nodded and disappeared from the screen.
Kael leaned back in his chair, staring at the city.
He didn’t know why he was doing this.
She was nothing.
A drunk mistake.
A wrong number.
And yet—
She had said his ex ruined her life.
She had sounded small for a moment.
And Kael Virelli did not like the sound of small.
His phone buzzed.
Information already populating the screen.
Name.
Address.
Roommates.
Workplace.
Kael read it all without expression.
Then he made one quiet decision.
“Keep an eye on her.”
Because the girl who dialed the wrong number…
Had just dialed into the most dangerous man in the city.
And he had no intention of letting her disappear.
Latest chapter
Wrong Number Mistake 28
"I need you to fuck me” she whispered, desperate for sensation, for presence, for proof of life in the midst of unraveling mystery. "I need to feel something real. Now."He lifted her, carried her to the bedroom, stripped them both with urgent hands. This wasn't careful, wasn't controlled—this was need, raw and mutual, him entering her hard and deep before they reached the bed, her back against the wall, legs wrapped around his waist."Look at me," he demanded, thrusting, relentless. "Stay with me. Don't go where I can't follow."She held his gaze, saw her own fear and hunger reflected, and came with his name breaking from her lips, her nails drawing blood on his shoulders.After, they lay tangled, breathing hard, the photograph forgotten on the other side of the apartment.But not gone.Never gone.They worked in parallel.Kael reached out to contacts he hadn't used in years—old men in European cities, intermediaries who remembered names, archives that didn't exist in official record
Wrong Number Mistake 27
"What about my father?"Camille turned. Her face was wet, aged, stripped of the competence she wore like armor."He was powerful. Charismatic. Dangerous in ways I didn't understand until too late." She laughed, joyless. "I was young. Stupid. Though love could tame violence. When I realized it couldn't, I took you and ran. Changed our names. Hide.""Changed our names?""Lawson was my mother's maiden name. Before that..." Camille stopped. Shook her head. "It doesn't matter. He's gone. Dead, probably. It has been for years.""But?""But I see it in you. The attraction to darkness. The need to fix what can't be fixed." She moved to Arielle, touched her face with trembling hands. "Please. Don't repeat my mistakes. Don't let him destroy you."Arielle thought of Kael. Of his hands, gentle and violent. Of his honesty, brutal and rare. On the way he looked at her like she was the first real thing in a lifetime of performance."He's not destroying me, Mom. He's... seeing me. Really see me.""Th
Wrong Number Mistake 26
Then Kael's voice, amplified, everywhere and nowhere: "You won't kill her. You need her. Alive, you have leverage. Dead, you have nothing." "I'll do it!" "You won't." Arielle spoke softly, almost sympathetically. "Because you're not a killer, Marcus. You're a businessman. You calculate risk, return, probability. Killing me has negative expected value." His grip tightened. "Then what? We stand here until—" "Until you listen." She reached into her pocket, was slow, careful, and withdrew papers. "Your financial structures. The shells, the loans, the laundering. I found them all. And in thirty minutes, unless I make a call, every document goes to the FBI, the SEC, and the New York Times." "You're bluffing." "Try me." She met his eyes. "I've killed a man with information before. You're already dead. I'm just offering you the choice of how." Vance stared at her. And saw what Kael had seen—what Daniel had missed, what her mother feared, what she herself was only beginning to understan
Wrong Number Mistake 25
The StormThe attack came at 4 a.m.Arielle woke to the sound of breaking glass, Kael already moving, gun in hand from the nightstand. He pushed her behind him, toward the bathroom, the safe room built into the penthouse's core."Stay there. Lock the door. Don't come out until—""I'm not hiding." She grabbed her clothes, the knife, and her phone. "We face this together."He looked at her—really looked—and nodded. "Together."They moved through the dark apartment, silent, coordinated. Three intruders, she counted from the sounds. Professional, but not silent enough. Kael's world had made her learn the difference.The first man died in the kitchen. Kael's shot, precise, no hesitation. The second fell to Arielle's knife, thrown with desperate accuracy, catching him in the throat as he rounded the corner.The third ran.They pursued, down the fire stairs, into the street. He had a car waiting, engine running, and almost escaped.Almost.Kael's second shot took out the tire. The crash was
Wrong Number Mistake 24
The InterruptionThe day went as planned.Kael to his meeting, Arielle to her laptop, tracing Vance's financial structures through layers of corporate obfuscation. She found three shell companies, two questionable loans, one connection to a known money launderer. Enough for leverage, maybe. Enough to start.She was compiling the report when the door opened.Not Kael—too early. Elena, the driver, looked apologetic."Ms. Lawson. There's a situation. Mr. Virelli asked me to bring you to him.""Where?""Warehouse district. He said..." Elena hesitated. "He said to tell you it's not a trap. But to come prepared."Prepared. Arielle dressed quickly—practical clothes, flat shoes, the knife Kael had given her last week tucked into her boot. She didn't ask how Elena knew to check the bedroom, how much she'd heard, how much she knew.Some things she was learning were better not questioned.The warehouse was cold, cavernous, lit by a single bulb hanging from the ceiling. Kael stood beneath it, jac
Wrong Number Mistake 22
The Morning AfterShe woke to his mouth on her thigh.Arielle blinked, disoriented, the gray light of dawn filtering through industrial windows. Kael was between her legs, sheets pushed back, tracing patterns on her skin with lips and tongue and occasional teeth."Good morning," he murmured, not stopping."What time—""Early." He looked up, eyes dark with intent. "You were sleeping. I was hungry.""Lemme see if we have some gi…..""No ……For you." He kissed higher and she felt his smirk against her skin, closer to where she was already wet, already wanting. "Always you."She should have protested. Should have suggested coffee, planning, the war waiting outside these walls. Instead, she threaded her fingers through his hair and guided him where she needed him.He was skilled. Unsurprisingly. The control that governed his business, his violence, his entire life—he applied it here, learning her responses, her rhythms, the exact pressure that made her gasp. Two fingers inside her, curling,
Wrong Number Mistake 23
The Reunion Three weeks of separation. Three weeks of dead drops and coded messages and pretending her heart wasn't in pieces. Three weeks of walking past his building without looking up, of deleting his number from her phone only to memorize it, of becoming so good at the performance that she sta
Wrong Number Mistake 21
The PerformanceThe first week was the hardest.Arielle moved back to her apartment—publicly, dramatically, after a "fight" with Kael that her neighbors definitely heard through thin walls. She threw his dark blue scarf in a trash can on the corner where photographers from gossip sites could find i
Wrong Number Chapter 20
The Morning After the TrapArielle couldn't sleep.She lay in Kael's bed, his arm heavy across her waist, listening to him breathe. The bar kept replaying—Vance's smile, the crushed wire, the certainty that they'd been outplayed.Kael stirred, pulled her closer without waking. Even in sleep, he rea
Wrong Number Chapter 19
The Bar Trap"You're enjoying this," Kael accused, watching her adjust the wire."I'm enjoying competence," Arielle corrected. "There's a difference."They were in his bathroom, mirror lit, her wearing a dress designed to look vulnerable and his hands adjusting the microphone against her sternum. H
Vous vous intéresseriez aussi à
On My Professor's Bed
Xee write801.5K VuesMy Marriage Is A Contract
Marvy514.0K VuesOne night with Ex-Husband
Anjaani540.8K VuesThe Trap Of Ace
Eva Zahan1.0M VuesBillionaire With Benefits
Chris Muna 79 VuesMy Boyfriend's Dad?
Smiley writes 130 VuesTHE CLEANER'S TRIPLE BET
Billie Patsy234 VuesThe Billionaire Family’s Biggest Mistake
Sir Josh13 Vues
