Cool Call Sign Novels & Stories

After the doctor confirmed her pregnancy, the first thing Eliza Lockett did was ask her lawyer to draft a divorce agreement. "Ms. Lockett, once both parties sign, the marriage will automatically dissolve after the 30-day cooling-off period." Eliza's expression did not change. "Can I sign his name for him?" The lawyer hesitated, then quickly shook his head. "No. He must appear in person." "He agrees to the divorce," she said evenly. "He's just busy with work and can't come. If you don't believe me, I'll call him now and let you hear it yourself." She took out her phone and dialed Alban Sidham. "Alban, there's something I need to talk to you about—" He cut her off before she could finish. His voice was cold and edged with impatience. "Didn't I tell you to handle your own affairs? I don't have time for your trivial matters."

When my appendix bursts, my parents, my brother, and even my fiancé are all too busy celebrating my sister's birthday. I'm outside the operating room, frantically calling every family member I can think of to sign the consent form, but every call is either ignored or hung up on. After hanging up on me, my fiancé, Joel Graham, texts back. "Sophie, stop being dramatic. It's Yvette's 18th birthday today. Whatever it is can wait until after the party." I quietly set my phone down and sign the consent form myself. It's the ninety-ninth time they've chosen Yvette Norton, my sister, over me. This time, I choose not to care. I'll stop letting their favoritism hurt me. Instead, I'll do everything they ask of me without complaint. They'll all think I've finally learned to be obedient, and they'll never realize that I'm preparing to leave them for good.

"Sign the papers, Serenity. I don't love you." Those were the last words Jackson said to me before he threw me out of his villa. He chose his first love over his pregnant wife. I left with a broken heart, hiding the secret of the twins growing in my belly. Five years later, I returned as a top jewelry designer. But why is my ex-husband blocking my way, looking at my children with red eyes? "Serenity, are they mine?" I smiled coldly. "No, Mr. Billionaire. They call another man Daddy now."

When I was fifteen, I lent my rabbit’s foot luck to Shawn Crawford. Half a year later, his wealthy parents found him and came to the orphanage to take him home. When I was eighteen, I stopped him from getting involved with the school belle who bullied me. Later, the girl died on the spot in a car accident. Shawn blamed her death entirely on me. He prevented me from taking the college entrance examination and ruined my life. Forced into wandering homelessly, Shawn still refused to spare me. He sealed me inside a coffin and buried me alive. When I opened my eyes again, I was reborn to when I was eighteen years old. This time, I would reclaim what was mine, my rabbit’s foot luck.

I've gone on a business trip. It's 3:00 am when my best friend suddenly calls me. He asks me why I didn't tell him that I already have a baby, seeing as we haven't met for a year. That question takes me by surprise. Josephine Bennett and I have been married for many years, but we've been using contraception all this time. Since when do we have a baby together? My best friend then sends me a screenshot of Josephine's social media feed. The caption shows, "This marks our 100th day together, my darling baby! I love you so much!" My heart goes tense when I see the screenshot. Immediately, I call Josephine to ask her what's going on. Her reaction is very cool and collected, though. "That's a relative's baby. I found the baby super adorable, so I decided to share the post. I didn't think I'd end up sharing the caption too." I just smile when I hear Josephine's answer. Later on, I call my older brother, Leonard Sterling. "Cut the funding for Josephine's research project. Turns out she's been cheating on me."

My name is Cedric Bainbridge. For six years, I've been hiding the fact that I'm married to Beatrice Thorne, the CEO. Despite everything, she won't allow our son to call her "Mom". Once again, his birthday slips her mind. Her thoughts are entirely consumed by her male secretary. I've had enough. I sign the divorce papers and walk away with our child for good. For the first time, Beatrice, who is always so calm, completely loses control. She storms into my office, demanding to know where I've gone. But this time, neither my son nor I will ever look back.

In my third month of employment, I realized that my colleagues were calling me an old geezer behind my back. This nickname came from Wanda Stewart’s arrogant and ambitious assistant. I had hit the age of 32, but was still clinging onto the last vestiges of hope of marriage after eight long years of our relationship. I asked Wanda, “Do you know that your subordinates call me an old geezer?” She said without batting an eyelid, “That’s just the way Samuel is. He’s just a straight-talker and he’s just kidding. You’re already 32, are you seriously fussing about this?” She then chuckled, “You two are really alike.” My heart turned cold. Turns out that eight years of my youth were nothing but a joke to her. I turned to leave, resigning from my post and blocking her. Yet, the woman who was always so calm and cool started panicking. “Jansen Graham, please come back to me.”

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.