Dumb Phone Finder

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.

I plan on ordering some food using my husband's phone, yet I've noticed a remark that's been saved on the delivery app. "The food is for a pregnant lady. Please make sure to be hygienic and use less oil and salt when making the dishes." I can feel my heart sink. I turn my gaze toward the bathroom, where my husband is. I can't figure out why my husband, who's been firm about not wanting a child, has been ordering meals for pregnant women. After a moment of hesitation, I scroll through the delivery app's order history with shaky hands. Numerous orders have been placed with the same restaurant, one that specializes in making exquisite dishes designed for pregnant women. Each of these food orders costs more than ten thousand dollars. My husband's company address has been chosen as the delivery address, and he's also the recipient. … After exiting the delivery app, I sit on the couch and stare into space. As I look at my husband's well-defined muscles, I recall how he, who's about to hit 40, is suddenly quite invested in getting in shape over the past year. I blurt out asking, "Have you been ordering food to your office often lately?" My husband freezes for a split second. Then, he fixes me with a gentle gaze. "I do that once in a while. Why are you suddenly asking about that? By the way, I haven't had the sweet and sour meatballs you make in a long while. Can you make some for me so that I can bring them to the office for my lunch tomorrow?" I smile at him and agree to his request. Still, I toss and turn in bed as the remark about the pregnant lady in his phone keeps gnawing at me that night.

My adoptive brother, Don Cassian. I loved him. The rival family drugged him. He had me pinned down. His hands on my breasts. He was hard, his eyes filled with a desperate hunger for me. But I shoved him off. Ran out the door. And called my best friend, Camilla. "Cassian's in the master bedroom. Get here. Now." I locked myself in the bathroom, letting the cold water wash away the fire he’d started in me. I remembered the last time. In my past life, when Cassian kissed me, I didn't say no. We made love all night. I thought my ten-year crush was finally mine. Then came St. Patrick's Cathedral. The Vitelli family's sapphire ring, passed down for three generations. The blessing of the Elders. I had everything I ever wanted. But the day after the wedding, I got the news. My best friend, Camilla, was dead. An overdose of antidepressants in her apartment. I was on the phone, crying for her, when a knife went through my chest from behind. I turned. It was Cassian, his face twisted with hate. "If you hadn't blackmailed me with those ledgers—if you hadn't forced your way into my bed—Camilla would still be alive. You have to pay for this!" That's when I understood. He never married me for love. It was all because of a whisper from Camilla: "Aurora controls the family's money. She can ruin you with a phone call." And a warning from the Elders: "Don, you must marry her. She knows too much." So this time, I stepped aside. I let them have each other. But why? Why did he come after me, his eyes red, looking like he'd lost his mind? "Aurora," he begged. "Why don't you love me anymore?"

Blurb: "You're mine! You're my wife. You're fucking MINE" my husband roared furiously while he was pushing me towards the wall. I lowered my hand to protect my belly, he didn't know that I'm pregnant yet. "I will never leave you, I will never let you go. I'm drowning without you" he whispered desperately this time, leaning his forehead on mine. My eyes were cloudy, I lifted my other hand and caressed his cheek. I know that he needs me, I know he wants me, but not as a wife. He just needs my body, it always about my body and sex, and it will always be just about them. He needs me to be his submissive. His sex slave. With trembling voice I mumbled, "I'm not, Raf. I'm not yours. We can't be together, we came to the end of this useless marriage" His phone rang. It was Debbie, the other woman! He tightened his jaw and clenched his fists and said, "I wil take this call and get back to finish our talk" Once he left the room, my tears flowed like a river on my burning cheeks. I knew it, he will always choose her. I wiped my tears harshly and made a phone call, "I'm leaving, can you take me to the airport?.." Trembling, I took a step towards my closet to put something on to hide the bruises on my body. ________ I'm Natalie, this is my story. I loved my husband with all of my heart. Although he was dark, vicious, and sadistic. I was his little dirty secret. We got married under some circumstances. No one ever knew about this marriage. I made my decision, I will never go back to him. I will never let him treat me like his submissive again, NEVER!

" No one wants to kiss chubby cheeks or sleep with a girl covered in rugs," Vince smiled as the corners of his mouth went up in a smirk. " Now get off your high horse and stop fantasizing about my perfect chest," he growled. My name is Perez, but the bullies call me Fatrez because I'm fat, not that I like being fat, their is nothing I can change about it, unless the angels decided to work out a miracle. But everything that has a beginning has an end, I could do the bullying, not that I can't. But the head of bullies is sinfully handsome, he leads as they follow. Always throwing the first comment before the rest come along. Even if he is sinfully handsome, I could never dream of me with him, the fact that am fat, call it obesity and dumb in class with extra front teeth. No one wants such a girl. Even if I was a boy I wouldn't date me. Why would he look at me twice without laughing so hard and crumbling down. The best I can do is disappear and never come back or kill myself to stop the bullies from finding other victims, they would probably die of guilt, that's my plan. But Vince is such an arrogant jerk, he could never crack, let alone feel guilty. I've got to stay alive to pay back, make his life miserable, perhaps I'll sleep at night satisfied that he is suffering because of me. But maybe the bully isn't strong like I thought, is his heart made of stone or it's all a mask to fool the world and make him feel better. His heart bleeds after all and I can injure it.

Two years after breaking up with Evan Grey, my lung cancer finally reached its final stage. At the end of my life, I dragged my aching body to Lake Manco, where we promised we'd come together on the 999th day of our love. In the end, I was the only one who went. As the doctor's calls came in endlessly, no doubt urging me to return to chemotherapy, I silenced my phone and buried the pendant Evan gave me by the lake. "Evan, maybe this is the last time I'll think of you…" As soon as the words left my mouth, a drop of blood from my nose fell into the sand. Then, from behind me, I heard the voice I'd missed every day for the past three years, "Miss, could you please take a photo of me and my girlfriend?"

I am a billionaire titan who controls the world’s medical supply chains. With one phone call, I can bring an entire city’s healthcare to its knees. In the boardroom, I am the queen they all fear. But eight years ago, I was nothing. They said a girl like me was lucky to have even breathed the same air as a Harrington. I was the "placeholder" wife of Ryan Harrington, a man whose family name carries the weight of a dynasty. To the Harringtons, I was a nameless girl from the gutter, a woman Ryan married and discarded like a piece of trash. His mistress threw me out into the winter night, pregnant and penniless, expecting me to wither away and die. But you can’t kill a woman who has nothing left to lose. I used to pray for his love. Now, I’m coming for his empire.

My name is Elena, and I died at twenty-two. My parents forced me to take my foster sister’s place and traded me for a territorial alliance. My mate was the most volatile heir of the wolf packs. Beaten bloody and fading fast, I made my eighth call for help. At my adopted sister Seraphina’s birthday party, she played the recording of my final, groveling plea—and laughed. My parents listened to those desperate calls with nothing but irritation, dismissing each one as theatrics, an inconvenience unworthy of their time. My brother snarled over the phone, “Then just die already!” So I did. In the end, it was my three-year-old daughter who made the final call—using her smartwatch to video my mother, live-streaming the freezer where my severed head lay. Now, my spirit watches from above as they all, one by one, begin to unravel.

Penelope Rivera's little boy toy, Theodore Schneider, is throwing another tantrum. She slides the divorce papers across the table toward me. "Just sign them for show. It's to keep Teddy happy." I clench the cuff of my suit and nod in silence. I sign my name in one swift stroke. As I'm walking out, I hear one of her girlfriends teasing, "Samuel's way too easygoing. Does he actually do everything you say?" Penelope takes a graceful sip of red wine and smirks. "Wanna bet?" They bet that I will quietly go through with the divorce at the courthouse, even if my eyes are red with tears. Listening their laughter, I rub my thumb over my phone screen and reply to the message I've just received. "Will you marry me?" it says. "I will."

When Peter, my father-in-law, suffered a heart attack and needed an urgent transplant, the hospital miraculously had a compatible heart. Helen, my mother-in-law and I were overjoyed. We thought it was a blessing from above. However, just as we were getting ready for surgery, Nate, my husband, disappeared with the compatible heart. When we finally reached him by phone, it was Camile, his first love. “Nate is busy prepping for my dad’s heart surgery. Stop distracting him!” Helen was trembling with fury. On her way to confront Nate, she got into a car accident and ended up in a critical condition. I begged Nate to come back and operate on her, but he walked into another operating room. In the end, my in-laws died. Their bodies were donated for organ transplant. It was not until later that I found out that their organs had been donated to Camile’s family.