Phone Beeping Virus

The Rossi family has a rule. If you want to be the next Donna, you have to prove yourself. Make three hundred million dollars, clean money, in a single year. All on your own, no family help. I spent ten years trying to do it for Vincent. I built ten companies from the ground up. But every single time, just as I was about to cross that finish line, something would go wrong. Everything would just… collapse. This year, I finally did it. I ran to his study, audit in hand, my heart hammering against my ribs. I thought I’d finally won. Instead, I learned my entire life was a lie. He handed my entire empire to Ava—my father's bastard. All because she supposedly saved his life once, and he wanted to make her the real Donna. I gave up. On him. On my family's dream of rising with his. Then I picked up the phone and called the Outfit in Chicago. "Your marriage proposal," I said. "I accept."

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.

Even after more than three years of marriage, Samuel Ferguson still seemed impossible to satisfy. After the third round, he brushed a tear from the corner of Tania Russell's eye, a roguish smile playing at his lips. "Did you cry from the pleasure? Want me to carry you to the shower?" Tania turned her head, avoiding him, her fingers digging into the sheets until her knuckles went white. Steam rolled through the bathroom, wrapping a set of broad shoulders and a narrow waist in a haze of heat — but that heat could not thaw the icy chill in her heart. An hour ago, in the throes of passion, the name "Lulu" had slipped from his lips, and it still lingered in her mind. All those years, he had always called her simply "Tania." After a moment, she wiped her tears, reached for the phone on the bedside table, and stepped out onto the balcony. "Elias, investigate Samuel for me. I think… he's cheating." "A lead?" Elias did not waste time. "He used to call her 'Lulu'".

Everyone thought he called me into his office to scold me. But when I got home, my phone lit up. “I’m sorry… did I f**k you too hard?” he asked, calm as ever. *** After years of being Grant’s invisible wife, Aurelia finally chooses herself. She leaves the mansion, the marriage, and the man who made her feel small. But healing doesn’t come easy, not when your ex can’t let go. Her new boss turns out to be the man every woman whispers about, Julien Knightley, ruthless in the boardroom, magnetic in every other room. The kind of man who sees through the walls she built, and makes her want to live again. But when Grant realizes he’s lost control, obsession replaces love, and the lines between power, passion, and possession blur. The end of her marriage was the beginning of her dangerous new story. A story of healing, second chances, and a woman who refuses to stay broken...

Brooklyn pulled her phone from her designer handbag to take a photo of her marriage certificate, but her husband snatched the marriage certificate from her hand and asked coldly, “What do you think you are doing, Brooklyn?” Brooklyn looked at her new husband with eyes full of love and replied, “I want to share our happiness with people who are important in my life, Preston.” A surge of anger rose in Preston’s heart, and he said, “Listen carefully, Brooklyn. You will never have my heart. You are nothing but my nominal wife. Please ensure that our marriage remains a secret. Should you disclose our marital status to your so-called important people, you will face consequences.” Brooklyn felt that her heart had been squeezed by invisible hands. The pain was so intense that she couldn’t breathe. Brooklyn swiftly regained her composure before meeting her husband’s gaze. She looked at her husband with eyes that were calm but devoid of any warmth and replied, “I understand, Mr James.”

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.

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.

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.

For our fifth anniversary, my boyfriend, Caelen Blackwell, flew me—and his mother—to Miami. I thought he was going to propose. Instead, he checked me into the cheapest room of a luxury villa and disappeared. Two days later, I found out he was staying in the private suite with another woman—his mistress, Samatha, the same woman he had just proposed to. When I confronted him, all he said was, “I’d never marry a crippled woman. Look at you, you’ll never be rich, powerful, or beautiful like her.” So I just made one phone call to my father—the most feared mafia boss in Spain—and told him to cut off everything Caelen had been using to build his empire. It’s not like I didn’t know how men like him worked—use a woman up, then toss her aside. I just never thought he would be stupid enough to believe I was the kind of people who could be disrespected or discarded like this.