Coryxkenshin Phone Number

During a company team-building event, I collapse from a seafood allergy. Yet my fiance, Frederick Scott, rushes Beatrice Sutton, who only twisted her ankle, to the hospital. I come close to dying because I don't get treatment in time. Later, Frederick explains, "Beatrice is my best friend's sister. He's seriously ill now, and I promised him I'd take care of his sister. I swear I'll keep my distance from her from now on." This isn't the first time I've heard an excuse like that. On our fifth anniversary, Beatrice accidentally deleted a work file and burst into tears out of worry. When Frederick heard about it, he left me stranded on a mountain and drove back to the office himself. I spent a whole day and night walking home through the rain. On Christmas, Beatrice's house lost power. Frederick was worried that she might be scared of being alone, and he rushed over to her place without even telling me, leaving me out in the snow waiting for him until dawn. These kinds of things have happened countless times. Afterward, he always brushes them off with the same excuse. I've long since lost all faith in him and no longer believe a single word he says. I pick up my phone and call the company that keeps reaching out to me. "I've decided to accept your offer from last time. I'll bring the core technology with me."

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.

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.

Rose was a loving child to her mother but didn't seem to exist to her father. Along the line in high school, she met a wolf in sheep's clothing called Prince who was born with a silver spoon. He won her heart with his charm and wealth because anyone who dated him was a queen. Prince and Rose's relationship was kept secret from their parents. Only their friends, colleagues, and some teachers knew about their affair. She lost her virginity to him and got pregnant afterward. She was scared of telling her parents and also being a subject of ridicule so she obliged with Prince's advice of aborting the pregnancy. She ended up aborting many pregnancies for him that the doctor warned her not to go ahead with the last abortion as it might terminate her womb. On Prince's birthday, he had his way with her and impregnated her. She was in a state of a dilemma but still adhered to Prince's advice on aborting the final pregnancy. She lost her womb and the true nature of Prince surfaced as he broke up with her and abandoned her. He cut contact with her but karma caught up with him. He lost peace and stopped attending lectures as he was afraid to face his parents who were aware of his crime. He decided to conceal his whereabouts. His new place was lodging in a remote hotel where he was caught and exposed. His parents who have been looking for him for a long time found him with the help of a hotel receptionist who dialed the police number to expose his whereabouts. He finally met his parents and was instructed to go and apologize to Rose's parents for their loss because she actually committed suicide when guilt and shame were overwhelming for her.

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.

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."

His heart was about to burst off its ribcage from the amount of continuous consternation he suffered since the drive to the hospital after he receives the catastrophic news about his wife. Ace Taylor the renowned businessman, world-famous pharmaceutical tycoon, and eminent top textile industrialist of the United States dashed through the entrance of Breach Candy hospital. His eyes searching for the reception flurried as drops of sweat settle down on his forehead even on the biting cold night of mid-December. He slaps the desk on tenterhooks unable to form the right words to gain the attention of the middle-aged lady sitting at the entrance. She raises her head to embrace the attention and her eyes were on stalks to receive the striking Aphrodite who only could be anyone's dream watching on big screens and business magazines standing right in front of her. "My wife...Scarlet Taylor..." "Yes sir..yes sir" the receptionist scurried on her speech and looked through her monitor. "Burns case, room number 13, straight from left Dr. Shahnaaz Hussain is treating her. You can speak..." Ace raced in that direction leaving the receptionist hanging on her words. "Scarlet?" His eyes left red with unshed tears as he shook his wife awake. Scarlet opened her eyes and stared at the man standing in front of her dolorous. "Who are you?"

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.

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.