Call Sign Unique Novels & Stories

There isn't any cure for migraines. But my billionaire wife, Ashley Weston, has not had a single migraine for years thanks to my daily massage with both hands. On the day I get into a car accident, I beg a passerby to call her to save me. She replies impatiently, "So you're resorting to such shameless tricks just because I won't answer your calls?" Through the phone comes the mocking laughter of her childhood friend, Jordan Hanson. My right hand is permanently fractured, and my left hand suffers from muscle weakness after the accident. A lawyer helps me draft a divorce agreement. With much difficulty, I sign it and send it to Ashley. On the day her head throbs with unbearable pain, she looks at my drooping hands and remains silent for a long time.

My husband's childhood sweetheart is a fake heiress. She and I are abducted at the same time. But when my husband, a doctor, arrives at the scene of the abduction with a medical team, he chooses to save her first. My legs have been broken, and I struggle to stay afloat in the ocean. I'm on the brink of death, and I beg him to save me and the child in my belly. He merely looks at me. Before leaving, he almost generously helps me call 911. Then, he says, "It's disgusting that you're lying about being pregnant just to save yourself. I've repaid you for saving my life—come to the hospital later today to sign the divorce papers." After listening to his words, I remove the hearing aid from my right ear with a trembling hand.

My husband—one of the top elites of Raventon Street, cold and ruthless to his core—keeps a stray orphan girl he rescued from the slums hidden in an apartment. Rowena Fletcher is clean and fragile, like a newborn creature untouched by the world. And somehow, that innocence softens something in Micah Benson—a man who's spent years clawing his way through the brutal wilderness of capital. He thinks this secret game of his goes unnoticed, but I find out anyway. At the Benson family's charity gala, I smash his favorite antique vase in front of everyone. He doesn't even flinch as he simply signals the bodyguards to clean up the mess and then hands me a divorce agreement. "Sign it, Sabrina. The penthouse in Ashbourne City is yours." I burn the divorce agreement—and that's when he finally shows his true colors. He freezes all my accounts and launches a hostile takeover of my gallery. On the night the storm hits, I get a call from the hospital. My sister, Roberta Slater, has been in a car crash—she needs emergency surgery. In the security footage, he stood there, watching coldly. "Sign the papers, or start planning a funeral." I dropped to my knees and slammed my forehead against the floor, blood trailing down my face as I begged, "Micah, please… don't…" A long, flat beep echoed from the other end of the line, slicing through the sound of rain. Then a voice on the line says, "We did everything we could." However, I have gone back in time—to the day I first found out about Rowena. This time, I no longer cry. Instead, I plan my divorce on my own terms. I call Valebrook Bank that same night and begin preparing for a quiet disappearance. But the moment I truly vanish from his world, Micah loses his mind.

Penelope is running out of time as she needs to find hefty sum of money for her brother’s surgery. With having no one to help her, she relies solely on her escorting job. One day, her path crosses with Kilian King who needed an escort to a charity ball he is hosting after two years. She discovers his need for a surrogate and leaps at the opportunity. Kilian King has been a widow for two years since his wife died in an accident. He has become cold and detached over the years but a call from the hospital has him searching for a surrogate. What happens when she is offered the opportunity to become a surrogate for a billionaire? She has no choice but to sign the agreement to save her dying brother There will be personality clashes and sparks when Penelope and Killian meet. Will sparks fly as they are confined to be in each others company?

I thought I had it all: a loving husband, a successful career, and a family to call my own. But it was all a lie. Behind the façade of our perfect marriage, my husband was hiding a dark secret. He had two children with another woman - my own niece, whom I had raised as my own. But that was only the beginning. When I finally became pregnant after ten years, my husband's true colors shone through. Despite the doctor's warnings, he refused to sign the papers for a C-section, insisting that I give birth naturally. His stubbornness cost me my life, and that of our unborn child. Or so I thought. But fate has a way of twisting and turning. The next day, I woke up. And with that, a new chapter began. A chapter of revenge, of betrayal, and of redemption. But will I be able to reclaim what's rightfully mine, or will the secrets of my future destroy me?"

My mother-in-law, Claire Rogers, had taken a turn for the worse with her leukemia and slipped into a coma. The doctors said she needed a bone marrow transplant urgently. I called my husband, Martin Hughes, the hospital director who had access to the bone marrow registry. All he had to do was sign off on the match, and she would be saved. Martin answered right away and drove straight to the hospital without a second thought. However, halfway there, he got a mysterious call and vanished without a trace. I watched Claire Roger's heart monitor grow weaker and weaker, frantically dialing Martin's number 99 times. On the 100th call, he finally picked up. My voice was shaking, panic bleeding through every word. "Martin, Mom needs the bone marrow transplant. You're the only one who can authorize the match. Please, come back!" All I heard was his quiet breathing on the other end. Before he could say anything, Waverly Tucker's voice cut through the silence."Darling, thank you so much for doing my bone marrow transplant surgery! How about I repay you with my body?" My phone slipped from my hands and crashed to the floor. So, that was where he had been all this time, performing surgery on Waverly. While I desperately needed him, he had abandoned his family to be with another woman.

How rich can a person be? My wife is incredibly rich. People call her "The Queen of Cloudridge" because nearly half the city's properties are owned by her. We've been married for five years, and every time she goes out to meet her first love, she transfers a property to my name. By the time I have 99 homes in my name, she suddenly notices that something has changed. I no longer cry, beg, or ask her to stay. I simply choose the finest mansion in all of Cloudridge, bring the property deed with me, and wait for her to sign it. She signs the papers, and for the first time, she softens. "When I get back, let's go watch the fireworks together." I quietly tuck the agreement away and hum in response. But I never tell her what she's really signed this time. It's not a property deed. It's our divorce agreement.

“Stop pretending and sign the divorce papers immediately. I’ll personally be watching for you to sign the divorce papers this time.” “Divorce papers? I’m not even married. Who are you?” Yuriel Scott woke up in a hospital after an accident. Suddenly she was presented with a divorce certificate by Aleandro Gilren, a multi-billionaire entrepreneur in the capital. “Don’t test my patience and sign the divorce papers right now.” Aleandro said impatient. “I don’t even know you; why should I sign it?” Yuriel tossed the document in Aleandro’s face.

Love is sweet and unique like the flavor in candy. Sometimes sweet, sometimes sour. Sometimes, something that looks good will look bad. Vice versa, it is that same with matters of the heart. Sometimes, giving in is sweeter than being with someone you love. However, with an acidic groove. The sweet and sour side is like a unique unity, like a complicated storyline. But, made an impression on the heart. Two separate earphone cables, reconnect. The sweet taste that accompanies the sour taste that will not move gloomy. Because, the sweet one will be loyal to make the sweet groove on the sour. Isn't this a unique fair epilogue? When the smile comes and the shackels of disappointment both embrace at the end of the story.

When my son suffered a heart attack in the middle of the night, I rushed him to the hospital where my wife worked. Instead of taking charge herself, she handed the operation to an intern. "New doctors need opportunities to learn. I'll be right there supervising. Nothing will happen." But before the surgery even began, a phone call pulled her away, leaving a trembling Marvin Vance alone in the operating room. My son never made it off the operating table. I collapsed in the hallway, sobbing in grief. Yet I overheard my wife gently comforting Marvin. "For your first surgery, you held on this long. You've done an amazing job, my little cinnamon roll." Awkwardly copying trendy slang younger people used online, she reassured him with endless patience. Then she turned to me with a cold expression and demanded that I sign a letter forgiving Marvin. "He has his whole future ahead of him. You can't destroy his life." I tore the document to pieces and threatened to call the police and expose what had happened. In response, she arranged for a medical donation and had my son's body dissected that very night. Driven insane by grief, I threw myself from a building while clutching my son's ashes. When I opened my eyes again, I found myself back on the day of my son's surgery. This time, I immediately contacted my parents and transferred him to another hospital. But that night, they still dissected a child.