Mr Wrong Number Novels & Stories

The phone rang once, then a robotic voice cut in. “This number doesn’t exist.” “What?” Raven frowned, pulling the phone away from his ear. He tried again. “This number doesn’t exist.” “That’s impossible!” Raven shouted. Cullen had used this number for years. From his last days at high school, through college. It had always been his number. He called again. And again. Each time, the same monotone response: “This number doesn’t exist.” Raven’s fingers trembled as he opened his messaging app and typed out a quick message. When he hit send, a red warning bar appeared at the top of the screen. The message couldn’t be delivered.

Kristina started, “try giving him a call, just to confirm his number so he can have a great day.” “I'm not doing that.” “You actually should. He could have made a mistake inputting the digits. I've done that before, and my biggest regret was, I didn't make them dial the number before me.” “Even if the number is wrong, I can always get it. He's around.” “Yes. Moreover y ou'll soon be neighbors.” I groaned. “When are you leaving again?” “Not today, but trust me, you will miss me when I'm gone.”

I glanced at the screen; it was an unknown number. My hand hovered over it as my mind decided whether it was proper to pick it up. “Screw it!” I pressed the green button and brought the phone to my ear. “Who is this?” “Ah, Mr. Wright. I was worried that I had gotten the wrong number.” My forehead creased and my nostrils flared. I knew that pathetic voice anywhere. “How did you get my number, Mr. Kane?” I spat with so much venom. “I have my ways, Mr. Wright. No need to be so bitter about it,” he chuckled. “Can’t two men just talk like businessmen? It shouldn’t be that hard.”

Allen to head out of the car first as soon as we reached the mansion. “The number you have dialed is incorrect. Please, check the number, and dial again!” “What the fuck?” I blurted as I checked the number myself to check if I dialed the wrong one. There’s no way I could be mistaken when I dialed the number straight from the inbox who sent me the video. “The number you have dialed is incorrect. Please, check the number, and dial again!” “Damn it!” Could no longer hold onto my frustration; the phone was about to bend sideways as I clenched it in my hand, carrying a big mystery in my head: how come the number was already unreachable?

Marcus was really to do anything just to have the chance of explaining things to her. "Okay, so August would call her, she doesn't have his number right?" Few minutes later, they've discussed and they were already ready to execute it. "Hello" August said immediately she picked up. "Sorry, who's this?" She wasn't really sounding good. "August, Marcus friend" he introduced "please don't hang up"he added rushly. "You don't sound too good yourself are you okay?" He asked with concern. "I'm fine" she said sharply "to what do I owe this phone call?"

"Is she sure it's prepartum depression? Sounds like she's hallucinating." "They say Mrs. Melson's package costs 120 grand. Look at the clothes this woman's wearing. Bet she can't even fork out a tenth of that." "Either her husband drove her up the wall, or she's jealous of Mrs. Melson. What an unlucky day." I was in my maternity attire. It wasn't like I was wearing tatters. The insults bounced off me, and I sneered. "I had no idea you were a thief, Melanie." Without hesitation, I turned to the receptionist. "Hi, did she give you her ID when she moved in? I'd like to know how she was verified."

Her only pain and concern was why her one and only heartthrob derived joy in making her look like an idiotic joke all the time. " You heard me Kara. I hate repeating myself and you know it." Fabian, Damian's wealthy childhood friend, walked briskly towards him, with a glass of wine still in his hand. He sometimes wondered how he was still friends with a scoundrel like Damian. "What on earth are you doing?" He whispered to Damian between gritted teeth. "Stay out of this" Damian said with his eyes still fixed on Kara. "Mr Willows it's fine. My PA will take care of it. I'm well aware that it was a mistake." Mr Gregory, the owner of the soiled shoes pleaded.

He didn’t want to feel sane as the pain in his heartfelt too overbearing to handle. After a while, he brings out his phone from his pocket and dials Hannah, his ex, number. He kept getting disconnected and that put him on the edge. He enters his car and drives off to her place knowing full well that another person was likely to answer the doorbell but wanted to use his drunk state as an excuse.

An unknown number. One message. UNKNOWN NUMBER: You just made it worse.