Bakugou Phone Wallpaper

When I was waiting for Theodore at City Hall from dawn to dusk, he was accompanying his first love on a hike. I called him dozens of times, but he rejected my calls instantly each time. He finally picked up on the twentieth call. "Why are you blowing up my phone when you simply didn't see me for a day? Why are you acting so desperate? Sammy's feeling unwell because of her heart and I still need to take care of her at the hospital. We'll talk later about registering our marriage." Ten years of love. This was the 100th time Theodore had left me alone in front of City Hall for his first love. I hung up and calmly tossed the wedding ring away. This marriage? I was done with it.

On April Fool’s Day, my CEO husband cut out my heart to save his childhood sweetheart's son. After the surgery, he tossed me into a cold rental apartment, where I died in agony. Three days after my death, my five-year-old daughter played in the room as usual. Walking by the sofa, she wrinkled her little nose and mumbled, "Mommy, there's a weird smell in here." She touched my face and murmured, "Mommy, are you pretending to be Snow White? Why are you so pale?" She shook my arm harder and raised her voice, "Mommy, it's my birthday today—get up and blow out the candles!" Confused, she picked up the phone and called her father. “Daddy, did I make Mommy mad? I lit the candles, but no matter how much I call her, she won’t wake up.” On the other end of the call, Patrick Hart’s voice was cold and impatient. “What could possibly be wrong with her? She’s just pretending to be asleep for sympathy. It’s Johnny’s birthday, I’m busy. Don’t bother me! Tell your melodramatic mother to stop playing her little tricks. I don't have time to humor her." My daughter removed the candle from her bun, pinched off a piece of the bun, and fed it to me. "Mommy, I made a secret wish… I really wish you could hold me again, just like before."

Alex Carter has spent his life struggling to make ends meet, haunted by the unsolved murder of his parents. At 23, he finally lands a job as a flight attendant, hoping to leave his painful past behind and build a better future. But everything changes when he meets Captain Damien Russo—the most sought-after pilot in the country. Towering at seven feet tall, dangerously handsome, and impossibly charismatic, Damien is a man of mystery, admired by passengers and feared by those who know his true nature. What starts as stolen glances and secret rendezvous in airport hotels soon turns into a passionate affair. But Damien refuses to come out, keeping their relationship hidden. Alex tries to ignore the red flags—the late-night disappearances, the cryptic phone calls, the way powerful men seem to bow at Damien’s feet. Then the truth crashes down like a storm. Damien Russo isn’t just a pilot; he’s the heir to one of the most powerful drug cartels in the world, using his position to smuggle contraband across borders. And worse—his family may have played a role in the death of Alex’s parents. Torn between love and revenge, Alex is thrust into a world of luxury, deception, and deadly secrets. As rival gangs close in and the FBI tightens its grip, he must make an impossible choice: betray the man who stole his heart or risk everything for a love that was never meant to survive. One thing is certain—no one walks away from the mafia unscathed.

The year was 1983. The sun had set. It was dark outside. Only one dim light was in the Foster family’s living room. “Dad, Mom, I’m willing to live abroad with you.” When they heard their daughter’s words through the phone, Philip York and Angela York were moved to tears of excitement.

I died on the day I won the Global Medical Doctorate Award. Fresh from celebrating the sixteenth birthday of my younger sister, my parents, brother, and my fiancé finally returned home, but it was three hours after my death. My family photos were beaming with happiness on social media, while I laid in the suffocating basement drenched in blood. Before I died, I had struggled to slide my tongue across my phone screen in a desperate attempt to call for help. My parents and brother had blocked my number. Only my fiancé answered my call. The moment his voice came through, he snapped, "Winona, Winnie's sixteenth birthday is important. Stop trying to hijack attention with your pathetic excuses. Enough with the theatrics!" It murdered my last spark of survival. In that electronic death rattle, my heart flatlined. The 100th time they chose her. The 100th time they abandoned me for her. But it was also the last time. They thought I had ran way to get their attention again, and that if they taught me a harsh lesson, I would come crawling back pathetically. But not this time. Because I didn't leave home. I had been lying in the basement of my house.

A rogue attack shattered my wolf, costing me my birthright as the pack's heir. But my mate, Alpha Kael, seemed devoted to me. For three years, he injected me with a "Lunar Essence" he claimed would help me heal. I thought he was the only wolf who truly loved me. I never imagined he was poisoning me with Silver Dust, a suppressant designed to crush my wolf's spirit. All to ensure my wolf would never reawaken, securing my adopted sister Selene's claim as the pack's Alpha heir. My hands shook, my world turning to ash, as I opened his safe. Inside was the proof. From the rogue attack to the loss of my wolf, it was all a conspiracy orchestrated by Kael and Selene. That night, I pulled the burner phone from my drawer and dialed a number I'd sworn I'd never call. "Grandfather, I'm coming home. I'll be there in seven days. Please send someone for me."

My family was the wealthiest in River City, with assets worth trillions. On my eighteenth birthday, my brother, Calvin Chester, gifted me an entire jewelry production line while my parents built a private museum and named it after me. The greatest hardship I’d ever faced? Learning how to spend my inheritance. Then I met Dario Darwin. For him, I cut ties with my family and helped him build his empire from scratch. But when I was three months pregnant, he demanded I drink on behalf of his assistant, Fran Fallon, a woman “slumming it” as an intern while secretly being the heiress to another fortune. “Stop pretending,” he sneered. “You’re not like Fran, raised in pampered luxury. You’re older, so act like it and take care of your juniors!” Then, to the clients leering around the table, “My wife’s just being dramatic. She can hold her liquor. Don’t hold back—pour her another!” Amid their jeers, he left with Fran, abandoning me to a room of drunken men. Years of sacrifice, only to be humiliated. I scheduled an abortion and called him. “We’re done.” Through the phone, Fran’s simpering voice chimed in, “It’s my fault that Clea is upset… I should quit and go home to my family’s billions.” “Ignore her. She’s faking it,” Dario cooed back. On the day Dario signed the divorce papers, my parents and Calvin came to take me home. Our marriage came to an end, but his tragedy was about to begin.

A few weeks before our wedding, Rodney Luther's stepmother, Jessica Flaine, posts a photo on her social media. In the photo, she's wearing the wedding dress I picked out, holding a bouquet of red roses, and shyly leaning toward Rodney, asking for a kiss. The caption reads—"Dreams fulfilled." I don't call Rodney in tears or throw a fit like I used to. I simply like the post and leave a comment. "Screenshot sent to Rodney's father." Not long after, Jessica deletes the post, and Rodney's phone call follows immediately. "Ivana, you're being so petty! The rest of my days belong to you. It's only today that I'm fulfilling a small dream of Jessica's. Hurry up and explain things to my dad! "Come on, be good. I've got a gift for you." A scoff escapes me. "Rodney, do you hear me clearly? Go explain it to your father yourself!"

My son asked me for something I couldn’t give. “Just three chances, Mom,” he whispered. “If he really doesn’t love us after that… we’ll leave forever.” He was talking about his father — Giovanni Romano. The heir to a Mafia empire. My husband in name only. He never called our son his own. He never once said he loved me. Chance one, Giovanni forgot. Chance two, he lied. Chance three… he broke something no apology could fix. So I packed our bags, held my son’s hand, and walked away. No tears. No goodbyes. Just quiet. The night our plane took off, my phone buzzed. “Wait,” his message read. “I’m coming home.” But home isn’t where he is anymore. It’s wherever my son finally sleeps without crying. Because some promises don’t break — they shatter. And some mothers never wait again.

I turned a nobody from the streets into a Mafia, and I defied my papa—a man who loved me more than anything—to do it. For five years, I cast aside the honor of being a Principessa, all for the dream of a life with him. I thought the man I loved was on the verge of becoming the next Don of the Moretti family. But then my papa collapsed during his prayers in the church, suffering a massive cardiac arrest in the one place he believed was most sacred, most safe. Robin was by my side day and night, whispering encouragement. "Isabella, you have to be strong. It's the only way your papa can rest in peace." I was planning our wedding, ready to marry the man I thought I could trust with my life, when I overheard him talking to his mistress, Ava. "We finally got rid of the old bastard." "Once I marry Isabella, half the Moretti empire will be ours.." The five years I had willingly dedicated to him had been nothing more than an incubator for his twisted ambition. I wiped my tears and became the Moretti family's princess once more. I swore I would make them pay in blood. So, on the night before my wedding, I picked up my phone and dialed my brother's number. "Brother," I said. "It's time to close the net."