Call Chica

At 4:30 in the morning, my husband answered a call from his ex-girlfriend and accidentally put it on speaker. "Jason, my daughter, Alison, has a fever—over 104. I can't get a ride..." The sudden sound of sobbing jolted me awake. Jason hurriedly turned off the speaker and lowered his voice. "Send me your location. I'll come right away." It seemed he had forgotten that today was my first prenatal checkup.

Billionaire Harold Houston's difficult and painful demise of his ex-wife forces him to find a new spouse. Harold approaches Tricia Moore, a stunning call girl for wealthy men, following a one-night fling and declares his love for her at first sight. When she accepted, her entire world abruptly changed. She discovered she got pregnant, but who is the child's father? Houston Harold? or the last man she had a stand with?

After my husband picked up his secretary and our son, they went into the hotel for a business meeting. Photos of them were trending online. I gave him a call to ask him about it, but he hung up on me impatiently. “I’m meeting a client. Obviously, we’re meeting at the hotel! Can you stop being unreasonable?” I was busy contacting IT support to retract the trending topics. Two hours later, I received a call from the emergency department of the hospital. When I reached the hospital, my son was already dead. In his hand, he was still holding a staff ID tag. The secretary’s name was on the tag. I broke down crying. My husband, Zac Davis, had blocked my number so I could not reach him. After I completed the hospital procedures, Zac finally returned my call. He sounded very angry and impatient, “Did you fetch our son? Why didn’t you inform me? Don’t you know that we’re all waiting for him to pass us the agreement? Just send the document over now!” After that, he immediately hung up and blocked my number again. I stared at the notification on my phone and sneered. I was going to snatch your clients and force you into a dead end!

On the day the privileged heiress, Olivia Cruz, and I register our marriage, she leaves me and Mom stranded on a deserted road before running off to her childhood sweetheart, Brad McCoy. Rage triggers Mom's cardiac arrest, so I call Olivia in anxiety, begging her to come back and save Mom. But she just says a cold line before ending the call, "Not this again. Every time I have to step away, your mom suddenly has heart pain. Your family sure knows how to put on a show, huh?" With that, Mom misses her chance at rescue and dies. That night, a mutual friend posts online. "Growing up together is a whole different kind of bond!" The post shows Olivia perched on Brad's lap with his hand resting on her waist. It's the perfect picture of intimacy that leaves little to the imagination. I expressionlessly tap on the like button before typing my comment. "Is this what you meant by 'something important'?" The friend sneers. "Relax, it's just a game of Truth or Dare. I can't believe you're taking it so seriously." Olivia doesn't even bother to explain, but when I walk away without a word, she finally panics.

My sister, Vivian Richmond, is celebrating her birthday with the rest of the family while I lie trapped in an abandoned factory, bleeding heavily. She's hired four thugs to torture me, and they've left me fighting for my life. I crawl toward my phone with what little strength I have left. When I finally reach it, I call my husband, Ethan Monroe. "Ethan, I'm seriously injured. Come save me now… I'm at the factory nearby. It won't take much of your time…" He scoffs at my weak, desperate voice. "Sienna, whining won't get you anywhere. Are you playing the victim now?" he says. "You'll stop at nothing to ruin Vivian's birthday party, huh? Hurry back with a gift and apologize to her, or I won't go easy on you this time." Before I can speak, I hear Vivian calling his name over the line. Ethan has no idea that the moment the call ends, I no longer need his forgiveness. He doesn't know that the foul, rotting corpse that makes even an experienced forensic pathologist like him recoil in disgust belongs to the wife he's hated for years.

Abductors bind me in a basement, subjecting me to the torment of dozens. Meanwhile, my husband, Evan Foster, dines by candlelight with his lover, Carmen Locke. My abductors grant me one chance to call for help, and I dial Evan's number. I'm certain he will come for me. I believe Evan would give his life for me, as he once vowed that his future held no meaning without me. Clinging to hope, I call the number etched in my heart. However, Evan scolds me for interrupting their date. "You think I'll come get you? Dream on. Maybe I'll bother to collect your body if you die out there." His words crush me, and I do die. Five days later, Evan stands before the autopsy table, grimacing at the mangled remains before him. Even as the police department's finest forensic expert, having dissected thousands of bodies, he condemns the killer's brutality. Yet, despite his cold dismissal of my desperate plea over the phone, he now wears a look of pity. Evan, if you knew these fragments belonged to me, would you still find me worthy of your compassion?

⚠️ Warning: descriptive sexual acts, please refrain from reading this if you're below 18, forbidden love, sex. control, manipulation. He leaned in closer, his breath warm. "Is that what you call it when you wear that skirt?" he asked, his hand sliding down my back. "Or when you bend over, letting me see?" I struggled to find words to protest, but my body was reacting to him. "Please," I whispered. "We can't." He held me firmly, his gaze intense. "Can't or won't?" he asked. "I see it in your eyes, Emma. You want this." I tried to push him away, but he was too strong. "Mr. Hathaway, please," I begged, feeling confused by my own feelings. He leaned in closer, his breath hot. "Call me Alex," he said softly. "We're not at work anymore." Hearing his name sent a rush through me. Alex. It reminded me of the attraction I had been fighting. His hand moved up my thigh, and I couldn't help but respond. I moaned softly. "You like that?" he asked, his voice thick with desire.

My boss gives me 200 thousand dollars in cash so I can pay his workers their salaries. I leave the house to buy some envelopes to put the money in, but that's when my father lends the money to our neighbor so they can buy a house. I question him about it, but he says I know nothing about forging relationships. Even my mother and brother blame me for not keeping my things properly—they say I'm dumb for leaving money lying around when I know my father likes to lend money to others. Later, my boss fires me but doesn't call the cops. All he wants is for me to repay him. To do so, my father finds me a high-paying job. It's only when I get there that I realize I'm supposed to be an old man's housekeeper. On my first day there, he violates me. I want to call the cops, but my father tells me to be forgiving of him. After that, the old man's daughter thinks I seduced her father and has me beaten to death. When I open my eyes again, I'm back to the day my father lent money to our neighbor.

I’m the straight-A, first class princess. And yes, I’m currently getting blackmailed into sucking off my hot married professor under his desk every week while he details exactly how he’s going to knock me up before the semester’s over. The problem? I let him blackmail me and I love it here. Then my asshole stepbrother Jax catches me reeking of faculty dick late at night. Does he tell? No. He bends me over and fucks me stupid and bare, and informs me I’m his breeding bitch now, gonna keep me knocked up and locked in his wing like a pretty little secret while he has a girlfriend he's supposed to be engaged to in a while. And Riley? My gorgeous bi bestie who’s been pining since junior year? She’s in my bed every night after, but I want a boyfriend for my self too. Call me ruined. I call it happiness. Good girls run. I’m staying right here, legs open, waiting to see who gets to fill me first. ~Yesss~ This is a steamy story but of course it contains sweet love and shows how life could be hot complicated but lovely as well. XD

On the third anniversary of our engagement, my fiancé—Dominic Corleone, heir to one of the most powerful Mafia dynasties in New York—told me he was not ready to form a new family so that our wedding would have to postpone. I told myself to wait for some time, the bond between the Corleones and the Valentinos—our families’ sacred alliance—would hold us together. But what followed were his endless betrayals and tortures. I walked into a bridal boutique and saw him laughing with Liliane, the childhood friend who always lingered too close. I watched him destroy the wedding gown I had spent months designing—then crush my hand beneath his heel until it bled. And when I thought I had hit rock bottom, he proved I was wrong—by getting behind the wheel and running me down. He thought I’d beg and cling to him, terrified of losing the Corleone name and privilege that came with it. But instead, I made one phone call and insisted firmly on canceling the engagement. However, that call didn’t just end a marriage arrangement. It unearthed a secret that had been buried for over a decade…and turned a marriage born of duty into a story of dark devotion.