Atomic Number Synonym Novels & Stories

Karen had invested her last penny in the business she had recently established and was eagerly awaiting the promised funds from her benefactor to take it to the next level. "Maybe he forgot. I should remind him," she thought, and promptly sent a text message: ‘I hate to sound desperate, but my finances are tight.’ After sending the message, she realized she had used the wrong number. She quickly started typing, ‘Please ignore the...’ when an alert popped up on her phone: ‘Five billion dollars transferred to you by Roger Dawson.’ Roger? The first name sent a chill down her spine, but the last name left her puzzled. "Roger? Could it be Tonia's bodyguard?" That was his number, but when did his name change? Her phone rang immediately, and the name she had feared for months echoed in her ears, his voice filled with emotion yet calm like a winter breeze. "Karen, stay put, I'm on my way to you." The call ended before she could process it. He was the reason she had fled, refusing to sign the divorce papers. Her love for him was unrequited, his heart belonging to her adopted sister, but what hurt more was the feeling of being traded between friends like a commodity. She would rather die than return.

When Isabel Baker agreed to moonlight as a bartender at a private party, she never imagined she'd get anything more than tips. However, on this resort island, nothing was ever that simple. After tending bar with the deliciously handsome Noah who was flown in for the party, Izzy realized that she was about to break her number one rule: never fall for a tourist. But with his quick wit, charming smile and passion for marine life, Noah was the kind of guy that she couldn’t resist. At the end of the night, she barely managed to turn him away from coming home with her. Noah had only come to the island for one of Jack Saunders' famous parties. Yet once he met Izzy, he couldn’t bring himself to leave. After one steamy night together, he knew that he would do almost anything to keep her. Theirs should have been an easy love story, complete with a happily ever after. Except Noah was also moonlighting as a bartender that night and his true identity threatened Izzy’s research. When his billion-dollar company and her marine research project collide, their entire relationship crumbles into the sand. Will they be able to rebuild their beautiful sandcastle together, or will it be washed away by the rising tide, forever just a memory?

I was being sold. I shuddered. Whoever would buy me… “Raise your number again, and I will rip out your throat.” Whoever it was, they were violent. I heard a hiss of pain and gasps around the room. Soon after, I was dragged off the stage and down the hall again. Then, I was tossed onto something soft like a bed. “I’m going to untie you now, okay?” “You smell so good…” he groaned and placed a hand on my thigh. “What’s your name?” Staring at the two twins in front of me, I cannot find a word to say. They even told me about a world beyond my understanding. “You’re a hybrid. There are things you need to understand about our world before we take you back to the pack. Thousands of years ago, the Old Moon Goddess passed away.” “When she was alive, we were one large pack, but when she died, we split up. Currently, there are the Black Moon, Blood Moon, and Blue Moon packs. The Blue Moon Pack is the most powerful.” ******Lucy, a hybrid of human and werewolf from White Moon Pack, the second goddess of the moon, the only survivor of the White Moon Pack. She has the power to unify the wolves, and because of her special identity, her parents died at the hands of the alpha of another pack.

Mikel Rysdale needed an escape after a devastating blow to her heart and lifestyle. The number of people she can trust can be counted on one hand. Escaping to the one place she was free, she finds the most unlikely person to lean on. In his eyes, he was a broken man incapable of rejoining society. Army Veteran Killian returns home to live on his family's land in peace. Happy to see his sister again, he wasn't prepared to welcome a guest. What started as a tolerable relationship, the two found the need to be there for each other. Old wounds are hard to heal especially the ones in your heart. “Who are you?” His question was meant to be gentle but they came out as an angry ogre. She laughed at his question. The first chord of that sweet laugh was now trapped in Killian's mind and heart. Slowly she stood up and walked towards him. She was within four steps of him and her scent was intoxicating. Vanilla and the scent of fruit he had to know of. Up close she was perfection in his eyes. Unconsciously he stepped forward wanting to be close to her for some reason. The pain, the memories none of it was on his mind. His sole focus was on her. “Name's Mikel Rysdale. You can call me Mik for short.”

*** COMPLETED: This story has steamy scenes that are not suitable for minors.*** When Cassie discovered that her boyfriend of six months was cheating on her with a married younger woman, she looked for the cheating woman's husband and insisted to have sex with him. However, after the deed, she found out that she got the wrong person and had a tryst with the billionaire Liam Chapman instead. Soon, her life spirals out of control—Liam's expelled son enrolls in her school. Her ex-boyfriend’s cheating goes out. Students complain about her teaching methods. And her co-teachers think that she is having an affair with the education minister because of the speed of her promotion and the number of her awards. Wanting to escape the drama, she resigns and goes to another city, only to meet Liam Chapman again. This time, he has an offer she can't reject. A contract marriage of three years. He will provide all her needs, but in return, she will provide his, and that includes focusing on his little monster of a son who hates studying because he thinks it's very uncool. However, as she stays with husband and son, she falls more and more for Liam and loves his kid as if he is her own. But, time is running out. Soon the contract will end, and she will need to leave the life she learned to love.

When I was born, the nurse handed me over to my parents, and the smiles on their faces instantly vanished. Hovering over their son's smooth head was a line of numbers that no one else could see. 6570 days. It was exactly 18 years. Not a day more, not a day less. The nurse thought they were just nervous first-time parents, but my parents knew the truth. That number was my lifespan. While everyone else in the delivery room was celebrating a new life, my parents were staring at my death. For the next 18 years, I was the most precious person in the family. No matter how poor we were, the eggs were always mine, the new clothes were always mine, and the meat was always mine. My younger sister could only look on enviously. My parents often told her, "Let your brother have it. He doesn't have much time left." I was well-behaved from a young age, never causing trouble, quietly waiting to die. On my 18th birthday, I blew out the candles and said a sincere goodbye to the world. The next day, my parents and sister, dressed in black clothes, walked into my room with swollen eyes. I rubbed my eyes, smiled at them, and said, "Good morning." The air froze. The sadness on their faces slowly turned into astonishment, then coldness.

My wife's gym is celebrating its grand opening, and I drag my buddy along to check the place out with a 9.90-dollar trial class I bought through an e-commerce platform. For the entire time, I never once let it slip that I'm the owner. Right after we finish training, a male coach tosses a price sheet at us. His eyes sweep over us with contempt as he says, "You two look like freeloaders. Our private sessions cost a few hundred each, and we don't offer freebies to people like you." I let out a disbelieving laugh. "We paid for this trial class. How is that freeloading? Go get your manager." He rolls his eyes and makes it seem like he's enforcing a very important rule. "Don't bother looking for the manager. My girlfriend owns this place, and she hates broke losers who try to get free classes." He dials her number right in front of us. His voice sounds both arrogant and pitiful. "Babe, two guys showed up and tried to con us into giving them a free class. They even told me to call the manager. Come over here and show them what's what!"

I get picked up by the cops in the middle of the night for street vending. While questioning me, they pull up my file. One officer eyes me suspiciously through my mask and asks, "What's a Clairefield University graduate like you doing selling stuff on the street at midnight?" I freeze and lean over to look at the file. The ID number matches mine, but the photo has been replaced with one of Madison Bass. That's when it hits me—20 years ago, I was the one who got accepted to Clairefield University! Dazed and numb, I stumble home only to hear my husband, Joseph Gunther, speaking on the phone. "Madison, don't worry. I won't let Lucy interfere with your life. Just go abroad in peace." It's him! Joseph helped Madison steal my identity and my future. My stomach twists. I turn to confront him, to expose the truth. But before I can, he strangles me to death with a belt. "I'm sorry, Lucy. You can't ruin Madison's future…" When I open my eyes again, I'm back in the classroom. Our homeroom teacher is handing out university application forms. This time, I'm taking my life back.

I was getting married—but I didn't tell my parents. It was my fifth wedding. The last four? Total disasters, thanks to them. Every time, they claimed something was "wrong" with the wedding car and somehow scared the guy off. First was my college boyfriend. We were solid—four years strong. My parents pushed for marriage... then ditched the idea on the big day because his car wasn't "fancy" enough. Second groom? My boss. He pulled up in a shiny new car they actually approved—until they didn't. Yanked me right out. Third time, they set me up with someone themselves. The guy brought ten cars to play it safe. Didn't matter. They shut it down before I even stepped outside. Fourth time? Same story. I kept wondering—what was so cursed about these cars? Why push me to get married, only to destroy it every single time? This year, I was trying again. Wedding number five. This time, I was pregnant—with the son of the country's richest man. I didn't tell my parents. Thought I'd finally outsmarted them. But just as I was about to get in the car... I saw them sprinting toward me.

On the day the male influencer patient was discharged, he posted a tearful video accusing my chaste, principled doctor wife of sexually assaulting him. In the clip, he cowered in a corner of the hospital, trembling, his clothes disheveled. With a terrified cry of "Dr. Shelby," he abruptly cut the footage. Overnight, my wife became a monster in a white coat—public enemy number one across the internet. We begged him, again and again, to come forward and clarify the truth. Instead, he posted an injury assessment report and wept about being bullied by his doctor. My wife had no way to defend herself. She was suspended pending investigation—and in the end, she leapt from the thirtieth floor. I endured humiliation and waited for the truth to surface. When it finally did, I obtained a reexamination report that proved her innocence. But by then, no one cared about the truth anymore. And I, consumed by despair, died of cancer. When I opened my eyes again, I had returned to the day that patient was first admitted. This time, I begged my wife to take leave—I wanted to take her away from this doomed fate. But my gentle wife wrapped her arms around me, her eyes red, and said, "Don't be afraid, honey. This time… I won't run away."