Future Phone Novels & Stories

# Iron Valley Neah is human, living in a world that was never hers. After her parents die in a car crash when she is fifteen, her mother's best friend—the Luna of the Iron Valley Pack takes her in. Neah grows up alongside Caleb, the future Alpha, training with warriors, earning her place through grit and stubbornness alone. She has plans: college, business school, a life built on her own terms. She knows she will never have a mate. She knows she doesn't belong. Then everything shatters. Caleb finds his true mate and Neah is cast aside overnight. Wolves from rival packs show up at the border asking for her by name. A half-dead Alpha from the most powerful pack in three territories crashes into her life claiming *she* is his mate. And a phone call from a voice she buried three years ago delivers an impossible truth—her mother is alive, her father's death was no accident, and someone has been watching her since the day of the crash, waiting for the right moment to collect. Liam Ashford, the ruthless young Alpha of Shadow Peak, never wanted a mate. He watched the bond destroy his father and nearly destroy his pack. But his wolf dragged him across three territories to a human girl with no wolf, no rank, and no idea how valuable she really is. Neah doesn't need a mate. She needs answers. But the closer she gets to the truth, the more she realizes the bond she keeps rejecting may be the only thing standing between her and the people who want her dead. What is it about a ordinary human girl that has every powerful wolf in the region willing to kill or die to claim her?

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."

Eight months pregnant, I had every bank card frozen by my husband’s female secretary. Over the phone, she laughed coldly and said, “From now on, every cent you spend needs my approval. Jack works too hard to waste his money on a useless woman who only knows how to shop.” That same day, I was rushed to the hospital with contractions. Every card I tried was declined. And as if that wasn’t enough, she had also moved my parents out of their private senior suite and into the cheapest room available. Her reason? Two ordinary old people had no right to waste Jack’s money. I laughed. She had no idea those “ordinary old people” were the Don and Donna of the Bellandi family, the couple who had controlled Italy’s underworld for decades. She had no idea Jack’s company, his reputation, his fortune—everything he owned—had come from the Bellandi family. My parents had already planned to retire completely after my child was born. They were going to hand the entire family over to me. And to Jack. Too bad. Jack had allowed her to humiliate the only real power he would ever have the chance to stand beside. Three days later, Jack held a welcome party for his mysterious investor. In front of everyone, his secretary dialed the investor’s number. The next second, my phone rang.

After Pierce Emery and I got back together, I started "renting him out." Every time his old flame, Daphne Roach, called him away, I stopped crying and causing scenes like before. I charged by the hour instead. Ten grand an hour during the day. Twenty at night. Triple on holidays. Three months later, my account was up almost two million dollars. Pierce had promised to help me pick a dress for a banquet, but Daphne called him crying, saying she'd sliced her hand while cooking. I didn't even look up. I just held out my phone with the payment screen open. One night, I came down with a brutal fever. While Pierce was driving me to the hospital, his phone rang again. Daphne. He stared at the screen for a long second before answering. Her voice came through shaky and tearful. "Pierce, the thunder's so loud. I can't sleep. Can you come stay with me?" I quietly pulled out an umbrella and told him to let me out at the next intersection. He looked at me like he wanted to explain something, but I just smiled. "Don't forget to transfer the money." The same thing happened again on the day our daughter went in for her routine checkup. Except this time, she was the one asking him for money.

After being abroad for half a year, I went back home to see my fiancee. However, I was stopped at a parking lot by a random man yelling at me. I tried to shrug him off, but he arrogantly retorted, “Don’t you know who I am? Vanessa Whitecastle is my wife. If you’re smart, you’ll do what I say.” I stood in place and looked at him. Then, I made a phone call, “Are you seeing another man, Vanessa?”

After three years of marriage, I believed I had the perfect family. My wife, Sarah, was gentle and caring, and our son was bright and adorable. On a rare day when I finished work early, I arrived home to find Sarah asleep, slumped tiredly by the crib. My heart went out to her, and I decided to carry her to our bedroom. As I approached, Sarah's phone screen suddenly lit up. A message appeared: “Sarah, is our son asleep?"

The ambulance’s siren blared as it sped toward the hospital. But an obnoxious power-walking mob blocked its path at the entrance of our residential area. As a result, the ambulance could not leave the area. I got out of the car to negotiate with that group of power-walkers. I immediately recognized that the woman who led the mob was none other than my mother-in-law, Miranda White. “Miranda, the illness of someone important to me has flared up. He’s in critical condition! “Please get these people to move and let the ambulance pass! Quick!” I was frantic with worry. But Miranda shot me a sideways glance and jumped to conclusions. “He should’ve died a long time ago! “He’s your father. What gives him the nerve to interfere in Caleb’s marital home?! If he’s sick, he deserves it!” Right after she finished her sentence, she waved her arms and called more people over. The number of people joining the power-walking mob continued to increase. They packed the road so tightly that it was completely blocked. When it became clear the ambulance could not possibly leave the area, Miranda shot me a smug glance. She picked up her phone and said in a coy voice, “Honey, what are you doing at home? Come down and join me for a power walk! Getting some exercise is what matters most for your health.” Inside the ambulance, the phone screen next to the patient lit up for a moment, then went dark again. It was not my father who had collapsed.

“Hello. We are calling to inform you that your son, Hudson Miller, has been involved in a disciplinary infraction. Please come to the office of Erin Academy and see the principal immediately.” Well, whose rat child was this? Not his, he knew that for sure. -.- -.- After a fateful phone call, Gael Laurent, global icon and popular popstar, is drawn into the quiet life of single parent Arabella Miller and her child, Hudson. The strange woman who wants nothing to do with him and her mischievous child may muddle the clear waters of everything Gael has ever known ...

My husband was out cold. Middle of the night, his phone lit up on the nightstand—chat app blowing up. I leaned over and grabbed it, quiet as a breath. Messages from someone named 'Viv.' Her last one? [Goodnight, Matt.] I had my fingerprint saved, but I'd never used it. Six years of trust. Six years of believing he was loyal—maybe too awkward to cheat. But something felt off. So I tapped in. And just like that, I opened Pandora's box. My heart? Tanked.

Late at night, with heavy rain pouring down, in the city hospital. "She has a mild concussion, and her abdomen was hit. The baby couldn't be saved..." Anna was given anesthesia but was still conscious. She felt something disappearing inside her, a tearing pain that the anesthesia couldn't numb. "Have you reached her family?" "Her husband's phone is off. I'll try contacting someone else..." She vaguely heard voices, and a tear slid down the corner of her eye. Her body couldn't hold on, and she lost consciousness...