Dumb Phone Finder

"How can you miss a spot? Oh you are such a dummy. I can't believe my brother is married to you." Bella rolled her eyes and looked at me like I was trash. "Yea, even I'm surprised you're my wife." Alec stepped in, tall And handsome he was. If only he wasn't always so cold like this. "You're too dumb, all the time letting my mother and sister speak to you like that. I wonder when you'll ever stand up for yourself." "Can we talk, in private?" I said as polite as I could. Alec just looked me with disgust and shrugged. "Well, good night everyone. I'm off to this fancy hotel to have a gooood night!" He said, ignoring me. I hated that he did that, but I just wished I had the boldness to correct him and teach him to treat me right. "I hope you bring home a new girl. This one expired 3 years ago." Lolita said. "Mom, I married her three years ago." Alec said and they all bursted out in laughter.

Anne Wellington spent three years as Donald Ashford's perfect fiancée, sacrificing her identity and dreams while he prioritized Hannah Grey, the woman who "saved his life" as a child. Anne endured public humiliation, emotional neglect, and constant comparison to a woman who weaponized victimhood. What Donald never knew? The patient woman he took for granted was heir to the Wellington real estate empire, a dynasty worth billions that could crush his company with a single phone call.

“Please! Jason! Pick up the phone!” Finally, someone picked up, but it wasn’t Jason. “Didn’t Jason tell you that he has no time for you today? He’s busy. Why do you keep calling?” The voice on the other end was Laura, Jason’s ex. The realization that Jason was with her while I and his unborn child were battling for our lives after an accident was a betrayal too painful to bear. If I survive, can I ever forgive him?

Three days after my death, Dominic Sharp receives a phone call asking him to identify my body. He has an arm wrapped around a woman's waist as he says indifferently, "I couldn't care less if she's dead. Call me once she's been cremated." My body is sent to the crematorium. After putting the ashes into an urn, an employee calls Dominic again. He clucks his tongue impatiently. "Alright, alright. I'll be there soon."

"Just join me for a drink perhaps?" Her bushy brows rose suggestively at me. She knew my answer, she knew what I'd say. I grabbed the bottle off her scrawny hands and said "You know, for a one time thing, this has become a regular." To be honest, I was actually looking forward to meeting up with her. Not that I was going to admit it to her face. "Like therapy sessions from two dumb, ill-favored kids. Who are trying to give each other easing words." She was right. Though her stumbled movements indicated a slight intoxication. Suddenly, out of the awkward moment, she looked up at me with a sad smile and said. "I might be a street girl but is it too bad to wish for a normal life? Go to proms? Have new clothes? Shelter? Love? Do I not deserve?" Her teary eyes searched deep into my soul. I was unaware of the lack of distance between us. When did we get so close with barely an inch barrier? "Flare..." that was all I could say because then all I could feel were soft lips against mine. Her lips! And it felt so nice. Subconsciously, I grabbed her little body and went for another kiss, this time, a deeper kiss.

“Why do you suddenly want out of this marriage? Who the fuck are you screwing, you dumb bitch?!” “I'm not screw-” I tried to explain, but he was already on me and I screamed as he dragged me up by my neck, his hand so tight on my throat I couldn’t breathe. “Who is it?!” he growled. “Who the fuck would dare!” ---- In a world absent the mate bond, alliances were formed through blood, power, and betrayal rather than fate. Makena Blackwell was born into the mafia's lowest-ranking position, promised at birth to a powerful heir in exchange for her family's survival. She was ready to marry him. But he was ready to destroy her. On the night she was meant to die, however, something impossible happened. A man rose from the icy steel trays of her father’s morgue. He was a stranger, with no memory, no name, and no pulse. And when their gazes met, fate spoke the word they never expected to hear in their lifetime, echoing so loudly in their souls it shook the very fabric of their being. “Mate!” The man the world left for dead wasn’t just anyone; he was the dread every mafia house feared, and he was hers. She was promised to a prince of power… but fate gave her the king of the dead.

My parents made Dana and me settle it with rock-paper-scissors. Loser had to marry the Baillieu heir—the so-called "freak." I won. Then flipped the script. "Cool. I'll take Blake. Dana can have the empire." Last time? I was dumb in love with Michael—Dad's adopted golden boy. Chose the company, stayed behind, and handed Dana off to Blake Baillieu. Big mistake. Six months in, Dana was gone—wrecked by that marriage. Right before she croaked, she texted Michael blaming me. Said I lost the game and ditched the deal, dumping Blake on her. Michael? Snapped. Dude went full psycho. Turns out, he and Dana had been sneaking around for years. He dragged me behind the Baillieu estate and forced a dozen intellectually disabled men to assault me. "If it weren't for your cruelty, Dana would still be alive! You'll pay for everything she suffered!" I was over eight months pregnant—almost due. Begged him to stop. Begged for my baby's life. He didn't care. Kept ordering them to take turns. Even when my water broke, he just watched. Both my baby and I died that night. Now? I'm back. And this time, I rewrote the story. Step one: marry Blake.

On the company's designated monthly day off, Gigi Lott, Donald Hoover's secretary, posted an Instagram story. The caption read, "So what if you're the boss of me when we're at work during the day? At night, I'm the one on top!" In the photo, she was lying atop a water bed covered in rose petals, and the usually stern Donald was kneeling down to massage her feet for her. From his pocket hung a brand new golden necklace. Just that morning, I bought several gold bars and gave them to Donald while beseeching him to make our relationship public. He happily took the locket from me, but when I tried to take a photo of us with our phone, he smacked my phone out of my hands, smashing it into pieces. With a look of pure derision, he declared, "Why don't you take a good look at yourself in the mirror first? You really are a motherless wretch who wasn't raised right. Look at the lengths you'd go to just to ruin me!" Throughout the last five years, I had meekly gone along with his demand that we keep our relationship a secret, claiming it was because office romances were forbidden. But now, I was abruptly hit with the realization of how laughable it all was. The next day, I sent my father a message. "I admit defeat. I'm willing to come home and inherit the family business."

Karen had invested her last penny in the business she had recently established and was eagerly awaiting the promised funds from her benefactor to take it to the next level. "Maybe he forgot. I should remind him," she thought, and promptly sent a text message: ‘I hate to sound desperate, but my finances are tight.’ After sending the message, she realized she had used the wrong number. She quickly started typing, ‘Please ignore the...’ when an alert popped up on her phone: ‘Five billion dollars transferred to you by Roger Dawson.’ Roger? The first name sent a chill down her spine, but the last name left her puzzled. "Roger? Could it be Tonia's bodyguard?" That was his number, but when did his name change? Her phone rang immediately, and the name she had feared for months echoed in her ears, his voice filled with emotion yet calm like a winter breeze. "Karen, stay put, I'm on my way to you." The call ended before she could process it. He was the reason she had fled, refusing to sign the divorce papers. Her love for him was unrequited, his heart belonging to her adopted sister, but what hurt more was the feeling of being traded between friends like a commodity. She would rather die than return.

When I got into a car accident, Carter was busy throwing a birthday party for his assistant. I was scrolling through my phone and somehow ended up tapping on the Love Pawnshop. Without really thinking, I hit the button to pawn my love. Five days later, the pawnshop took back every bit of love I had left to give, and there he was, Carter, on his knees, crying his heart out, begging me for another shot. But the thing is, once love is pawned, it’s almost impossible to get back.