Desperate Measures Read Online Novels & Stories

She slowly turned on the black phone by pressing the small button on the right side of the phone. It was a spare phone she had bought six months ago when she was tempted by the heavily discounted advert displayed outside the store. As a normal woman, of course she was tempted by the offer advert. Although after buying she had felt regret because the phone was not as good as the phone she used to use. But in such a precarious condition, the discount cellphone turned out to be quite useful to save her threatened life.

Clock’s ticking and also, the money option is gone. Eva’s eyes met mine, wide with fresh panic. “Bastard!!!!! I can smell his fucking desperation from the text message!!!" He not only raised the stakes but he changed it. And now we had less than twenty-four hours to destroy my heart on camera… or watch our entire world burn.

Another step forward… measured, deliberate, and my shadow spilled over his shoes like a storm cloud swallowing light. Graham’s breathing shifted, shallow, uneven, his chest heaving like a man trying to disguise panic as rage. His eyes burned… oh yes, they burned, but rage without control was nothing more than desperation dressed as fire. And desperation? I could smell it from a mile away. “And if I don’t?” I murmured, my voice dipping into a whisper sharp enough to slice skin. I could feel the tremor in his jaw, the twitch in his temple as he fought not to break, not to look away from me.

I rasped. He nodded once. “For you. For us. Because no one else makes me feel like you do. Because even when you drive me insane, I want you next to me. In my bed. In my space. In my life . And if that means adjusting to Byron… then I’ll try.” He stepped in. I didn’t stop him. His hand curled around the back of my neck, pulling me in, and the kiss was desperate . Raw. No rhythm. Just lips clashing, breath catching, a tangle of heat and tongues and teeth like we were trying to burn it all into memory.

I could only believe William and follow him to the outskirts to live with his relatives. However, he brought me to a wrinkly old man instead. The house was run-down, dark, and covered in spider webs. The old man was afraid that I would escape, so he put a dog collar around my neck. However, I had just given birth. How could I have the energy to escape? I could only look at William helplessly. I no longer had tears to cry. “Where is our son? Did you sell him?” My blood had soaked the train seats because of a premature delivery.

He rattled off the address, his voice shaking with fear. “Stay on the line. Help is on the way,” the operator replied, their calm voice cutting through his panic. “If you can, try to keep him stable and monitor his pulse.” James put the phone on speaker, setting it down beside him as he turned his full attention back to Darvan. “How do I even do that?” he wondered aloud, anxiety clouding his thoughts. Kneeling over Darvan, he tried to steady his nerves. “Sir Darvan, please hold on. Help is coming,” he murmured, his gaze darting anxiously between the unconscious figure and the door, willing the ambulance to arrive faster.

They wouldn't underestimate me again. "For those of you who seem a little...surprised," I began, my voice amplified by the microphone, slicing through the rising hum, "Let me assure you, this is no mistake." My gaze swept the room, lingering on a few particularly pale faces, and a few red ones (they didn't matter to me). These were the ones who thought Desiree had me collared, who thought they had me cornered, who underestimated the "stone bitch." Their shock was a delicious appetizer.

Me. It wasn’t about ruining her. Not completely. It was about remaking her. Breaking her down until she had no one else, until the world had turned so sharp she’d cut herself on it just trying to stand, then I’d be the hand waiting to pull her back up. I leaned back, smiling faintly at the thought. Derek would crumble first, he was impulsive, desperate, easy to push over the edge. Blackwood would be harder, but men like him always fall hardest.

His eyes searched for mine with desperation, as if he were trying to reach me through the other side of a pane of glass. “No… no…” I kept repeating, not even sure what I was refusing. A nurse rushed in, followed by a doctor. My breathing was a frantic, uncontrolled gasp; the monitor began to beep louder. “She’s having an acute crisis,” the doctor said, firm but compassionate. “We need to help her body come down.” Dad held my hands, but I couldn’t stop trembling. “What does that mean?” he asked, voice breaking. “A mild sedative,” the doctor explained. “It’s not to erase anything—it’s to let her nervous system rest. She’s hypervigilant. Her body still believes she’s in danger.”

Then his lips curved into an annoyed frown. “This is getting embarrassing,” he muttered. I blinked. “I just need my money back… I'm begging you.” Gary exhaled and then stood up, his face devoid of emotion. “Move,” he said. “What?” “You’re blocking the way.” My heartbeat tripled. What did he mean? He was my last hope. “Gary—” “Move,” he repeated, his voice colder now. I didn’t move. I couldn’t. I was desperate, and he was the only light at the end of my tunnel.