Gartic Phone Prompt

Isabela "Isha" Vergara has it all - beauty, brains, and a future everyone envies. To the world, she's the daughter of a wealthy, respectable family living comfortably in one of Manila's richest cities. But behind the elegant façade is a home built on lies and fear. Her father, a desperate businessman drowning in debt, hides his failures behind charm and manipulation. A narcissist and a gaslighter, he gambles away what's left of their fortune while her mother, too afraid to lose the luxury she clings to, chooses silence over truth. One night, Isha overhears a phone call that shatters her world: a deal made in the shadows to settle her father's massive debt. The price? Her. Without her knowing, she's been sold... and the man who bought her is Kervin - her father's powerful business partner whose intentions go far beyond business. Now, trapped in a web of deceit and desire, Isha must face the darkest truths behind the perfect family portrait and decide how far she's willing to go to reclaim her freedom.

My mafia boyfriend, Silas Vale, didn’t recognize me when I dragged myself back to him after being tortured and shot by his rival gang. He was too busy holding Amy—his childhood sweetheart—in his arms. “Get this woman away from me,” he snapped at his guard. “Amy’s afraid of blood.” I’d lost so much blood I genuinely thought I might die that night. But luckily, a stranger passed by and rushed me to the hospital. When I finally recovered enough to walk, I went home—only to find Silas there, completely unconcerned about the fact that I had disappeared for almost a week. And Amy was there too. Her clothes were scattered across the floor. I didn’t confront Silas or say anything. I just pulled out my phone and called my brother. “You said you are moving to Italy? I’m coming with you.” If Silas couldn’t cherish me the way he was supposed to… then I’d vanish from his world for good this time.

Thanks to an accident, I'm somehow able to get on a phone call with the past version of me from seven years ago. Upon hearing that I will be getting engaged to Edward Herring soon, Younger Me is so excited that she keeps rolling around in bed. She also claims that she will be the happiest woman in the world seven years later. Am I happy, though? I can only smile bitterly without saying anything. Then, I silently show Younger Me the old scars of the suffering and pain I've gone through in the past. The gentle Edward is no longer here. Now, the Edward I'm with is the type who allows others to call me a manipulative bitch repeatedly and demands that I grovel to his first love, Madison Scott, and her family in a form of apology before our engagement. "So, do you still want a future like this?" The sparkle in Younger Me's eyes fades away instantly. After that, my past has been rewritten. Let's never see each other from the start, Edward Herring.

To attract more potential customers, my wife decided to join the cycling community. During the two months I was away on a business trip, she posted new cycling routes every single day on the map and became a well-known cycling socialite in the local scene. A neighbor suddenly sent me a video. The location tag pointed straight to my backyard. [Dude, your wife is something else. Already found herself a riding partner? Looks like the bike’s not the only thing getting ridden.] In the video, an unfamiliar lace panties hung on the handlebars of the bicycle. The lush grass swayed rhythmically, with an undulating figure occasionally peeking from behind it. I dialed her number. “What are you doing?” She squealed, “I’m out for a ride, honey. I’ve been landing a lot of high-quality clients lately. I’m working really hard to make money!” “Oh?” I smiled. “With your body?” I tightened my grip on the phone and enunciated each word, “It’s pretty dark in the backyard. Want me to turn on the lights for the two of you?

On my birthday, one of my husband’s subordinates leaned close to him and whispered in Russian, “Sasha has a surprise prepared for you tonight.” My husband smiled at me as he finished cutting my cake. Then, in the same language, he replied, “She has quite a few tricks in bed. I’ll see her later. “Just don’t let Madam find out, or I’m afraid I’ll get thrown out.” Everyone around laughed and assured keep it quiet. None of them knew that I’d been fluent in multiple languages since I was a child. What they also didn’t know was that I’d found the hidden phone he kept in the false drawer, where all the filthy videos of him and Sasha were saved. I didn’t confront him. Instead, I contacted a few remaining connections in the Vegas and had them prepare a new identity for me. In three days, Claire Vega would no longer exist, and he would never have me again.

They had been married for three years, yet he treated her like dirt while he gave Lilith all of his love. He neglected and mistreated her, and their marriage was like a cage. Zoe bore with all of it because she loved Mason deeply! That was, until that night. It was a downpour and he abandoned his pregnant wife to spend time with Lilith. Zoe, on the other hand, had to crawl her way to the phone to contact an ambulance while blood was flowing down her feet. She realized it at last. You can’t force someone to love you. Zoe drafted a divorce agreement and left quietly. … Two years later, Zoe was back with a bang. Countless men wanted to win her heart. Her scummy ex-husband said, “I didn’t sign the agreement, Zoe! I’m not going to let you be with another man!” Zoe smiled nonchalantly, “It’s over between us, Mason!” His eyes reddened when he recited their wedding vows with a trembling voice, “Mason and Zoe will be together forever, in sickness or health. I refuse to divorce!”

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.

"Do you know what marriage is?" Evelyn asked with a raised brow. "Marriage is 'I do' and 'you do', then boom, children come in anytime they want," Drake replied with a cute smile. "How do children come in?" She asked knowingly. "Man and a woman call them," he replied foolishly. "How do they call them?" She probed. "Just like this…" He placed his phone to his ear. "I already forgot that it's useless talking to you," Evelyn got annoyed and walked away *** Twenty years old Evelyn Brown was forced to marry the son of the richest man in the country, Drake Valentino. She thought her life was perfect, not until she was forced to get married to a man she barely knows because of money. Evelyn had thought the arranged marriage wasn't bad as her groom was a handsome young man from a rich family, just like hers until she entered the marriage. She was shocked into disbelief when she realized her husband wasn't as normal as she thought he was, he was a complete… Moron!

On the day I was awarded the highest honor in the vampire world—the Order of the Night—I died. Three hours after my death,my parents, my brother, and my Consort had just finished celebrating my sister’s Nightfall Commencement. While my sister Olivia was posting warm, smiling family photos on the vampire social network,I was locked in the basement,dragging my tongue across my phone screen,desperately trying to make a call for help. The only person who answered was my Consort—Julian. He said only one thing: “Bella, stop acting. Olivia’s Nightfall Commencement is important. Stop throwing a tantrum.” That was the ninety-ninth time they had disappointed me.And the last. I lay in a pool of blood so dark it was nearly black,my breathing fading into nothing. They thought I was just sulking somewhere,hiding as usual. They believed that if they taught me a lesson,I would crawl back obediently, like I always did. But they didn’t know. I had never left the house. I was already dead.

On my way back from a business trip, I scrolled past a video. A newborn was abandoned by the roadside, crying so hard. As a first time dad, I couldn’t help looking at the baby a little longer. I froze because that baby looked exactly like my son. I had booked the best confinement center in the city for my wife. I had checked them into a VIP suite. I had employed a nanny and a nursing team to look after my wife and my son full-time. I broke out in a cold sweat. My wife didn’t check her phone, so I immediately called the center's manager, Ms. Thompson. She laughed lightly. “Don’t worry, Mr. Smith. Your wife and baby are perfectly fine. They just fell asleep.” The next second, she sent me a photo of my sleeping baby. I stared at the tiny, unfamiliar face. In that instant, the blood in my body turned to ice. I was only gone for four days. So how was my son a different person?