Purple Phone Mga Nobela at Kwento

Behind the glamorous facade of a billionaire marriage, a toxic game of cat and mouse is unfolding. Maya Perkins thought she had it all - a jaw-droppingly handsome husband, Larry Jonathan, a life of luxury, and a love that would last forever. But when Larry's obsession with Brandy Owens, the seductive widow of his late friend (and campus sweetheart!), threatens to destroy everything, Maya is forced to make the one phone call she swore she'd never make. Lies, deceit, and betrayal collide in a shocking tale of love, lust, and the true cost of perfection. Will Maya survive the wreckage of her marriage, or will she become the latest casualty of a love that's gone lethally wrong?

On the night of New Year's Eve, I wake up in a hospital ward with an IV drip connected to the back of my hand. A nurse passes me the hospital bill. "It's 300 dollars in total, including the emergency treatment fee and the cost for a bottle of glucose drips." When I turn on my phone, I feel my heart sinking. I only have 29.01 dollars left in my bank account. The wallpaper of my phone is a countdown of my family contract's app. Today is the date when I have to renew my family contract for the year. In order to accumulate enough money to go home, I've been working as a staff member in concert venues. Earlier, I had collapsed backstage, so I was quickly sent to the hospital. The dial tone keeps beeping for a long time. Finally, my mom answers my call in what seems to be a noisy background. "Mom, I'm at the hospital right now. I need 300 dollars to pay the hospital bill." "You're at the hospital?" Mom's voice turns shrill immediately. "Why did you visit the hospital during the holidays? You really are a jinx!" "I fainted earlier. I was working at a concert venue—" "What? So, you refused to do chores at home during the holidays! Instead, you decide to work at a concert venue?" Mom interrupts immediately. "I don't have 300 dollars on me! You'd better come up with a way to pay that bill of yours!" "Mom…" My hand tightens around my phone. "Today is the last day of my family contract's renewal period. I'll renew the contract once I pay the bill." "Renew the contract, huh?" Mom just sneers at me. "That's a part of your duties! How dare you use it against me! Helena Lambert, if you don't renew the contract today, you can forget about calling me 'Mom'!" After that, she ends the call. I can only grip my phone to the point that my fingers turn white. After that, I tap on a social media app in hopes that I can borrow money from my friends, only to see the latest post on the social media feed. My younger sister, Hannah Lambert, has posted a photo collage there. "I'm here with my parents to watch my favorite singer's concert! Snagging tickets to the first-row seats is definitely worth it!" The background of those photos is the same concert venue where I work part-time at. It's the most expensive venue in town. Apparently, tickets cost 2,900 dollars each.

To help my sterile Alpha mate Marcus Blackwood conceive an heir, I had used many hormone injections. My belly was covered with purple bruise marks from all the needle punctures. But after our son Connor was born, he was very weak and even ran much slower than the other pups. Marcus looked at Conner coldly and snarled at me, "It's all your rotten bloodline! You've brought shame to the Blackwood pack!" Later, he held his mistress Scarlett's pup—a three-year-old pup who was strong enough to beat an eight-year-old pup—and publicly rewarded Scarlett with a new Porsche. But when my five-year-old Connor accidentally knocked over his milk, Marcus kicked him in the chest and called him worthless. He even locked my son, who was afraid of the dark, alone in the drafty woodshed at the countryside estate during winter. Every day, Connor got only one bowl of spoiled food, until he starved to death. When I found Connor, his small body was already ice-cold, still clutching the family portrait I had drawn for him in his little hands. After that, Marcus tortured me to death. When I opened my eyes again, I was back at our engagement party. Marcus publicly took Scarlett's hand in front of everyone. "I’m breaking off my engagement with Hazel Whitmore! She is just a foolish she-wolf who can only birth idiots! Scarlett is the one I love!" I realized that he was also reborn. He wanted to humiliate me in front of everyone again. But he didn't know that without my exclusive genetic healing technology, he would remain childless for this entire lifetime.

After my husband's death, I retained all his personal accounts and our marriage certificate. Since then, Chuck Smith had been wooing me persistently, declaring that he would give me all his love to overcome the pain of loss. He would search the entire city for some sweets that I mentioned on a whim, and he deleted every woman's number from his phone while keeping me updated on his location in real time. But just as his feelings reached me, and I was ready to marry him, I found Chuck getting frisky with his new secretary in the basement parking lot…

I woke in the middle of the night to my Don husband murmuring in his sleep. “Juno, be good. Tomorrow I’ll buy you and Mamma a new house.” My eyes flew open. Juno? That was the name I’d always planned for a purebred Ceylon cat I dreamed of owning, but I’d never gotten one because of my pet fur allergy. And a new house? Could this just be a coincidence? I shook him lightly. “What did you just say?” He frowned and mumbled coarsely, “Had a nightmare. Dreamt of a shootout.” I didn’t press further. In the darkness, I reached for his phone and silently opened his messages.

In the seventh year of my marriage to Adrian Sandford, his ex, Celine Wheeler, came back. She posted: [We were young, reckless. We missed our shot. This time, I'm fighting for love.] That night, Adrian sat on the balcony, cigarette burning between his fingers, staring out till sunrise. My phone wouldn't stop buzzing either. Their friend group—everyone who saw them grow up—flooded the chat. Regret for them. Relief, too. They forgot I was still in there. Adrian had no clue how many times I replayed the years I chased him. Seven years. I'm tired.

Our third wedding anniversary was coming up, but my wife, a programmer at a major tech company, suddenly claimed she had to work overtime to meet deadlines. She said she couldn't go on the trip we'd planned. That very afternoon, however, her intern posted a video on social media. My wife—the same woman who normally wouldn't even open a door for fear of chipping her manicure—was holding a screwdriver, repairing an old flip phone. The caption read: [Having a programmer wife is the best. Even when Grandma's phone breaks, we don't need to pay for repairs.] I chuckled, liked the post, and commented: [Right up her alley.] Within minutes, the company group chat exploded. There were over ninety-nine unread messages speculating on when I'd finally snap. Not long after, my wife called. Her voice was ice-cold. "What was that comment supposed to mean? How is Shawn supposed to face anyone at work now? "His grandma's phone broke, so I fixed it. What's the problem? Your parents have always spoiled you. You can't possibly understand real hardship. "Delete the comment. I'll make it up to you over the New Year; we can take that trip then." The New Year? I'd already waited through two other major public holidays. I'd even taken special leave for this trip, and she still bailed. Now she was dangling empty promises again? I hung up on her. My leave ended around the same time as our divorce cooling-off period.

My twin sister and I marry twin brothers from a powerful mafia family. She marries the elder, Leo Smith, a federal judge. I marry the younger, Sam Smith, a surgeon. While I'm hospitalized for a high-risk pregnancy, I'm abducted by criminals demanding ransom. They use my phone to call Sam 32 times, but every one goes unanswered. Enraged, one of the abductors beats my stomach with a baseball bat to vent his anger. I try desperately to protect my unborn child, but I lose the baby anyway. Finally, the abductor calls Sam one last time. This time, he answers, only to snap, "Annie almost miscarried. I was just taking her for a checkup. Can you stop calling and trying to get my attention?" With no ransom coming, the furious abductors tie me up and throw me into a swimming pool. Then, they leave. Just as I'm about to take my last breath, my sister arrives and pulls me out. Seeing me almost dead from the miscarriage, she calls Leo in a panic. But all she gets is a cold answer. "Currently punishing the man who nearly caused Annie Morgan's miscarriage. Do not disturb." She tries to call the police, but her phone dies. With no other option, she drives me away herself. On the way back, a sudden blizzard hits, and a landslide blocks the road. The car breaks down. We're trapped and shivering in the cold. Thankfully, a forest patrol finds us just in time. We survive. When we wake up in the hospital, the first thing that comes to us is that we have to get divorced!

In the seventh year of my long-distance relationship with my girlfriend Quinn Summers, I quit my job without telling her and traveled more than six-hundred miles to Oceanton. I only wanted to surprise her and ask her to marry me. When the receptionist heard I was looking for Quinn, her expression slightly shifted. "Our CEO Ms. Summers is still in a meeting. Please wait a moment." I was surprised. Quinn had never told me she had been promoted. During our video call last week, she had even complained about how stressful work was and how far away a promotion felt. When I turned around, I heard the receptionist whispering to her coworker. "So… This is the guy Ms. Summers is keeping on the side? Seriously, he has some nerve, coming all the way to the company." "If Mr. Gomez finds out Ms. Summers is cheating during their marriage, this is going to be very bad." I was about to turn back and tell them they had the wrong person. Quinn was not married, and I was her real boyfriend of ten years. But before I could speak, a man in a black suit walked in from the revolving door. The receptionists immediately fell silent and greeted him with deep respect. "Mr. Gomez." The man was on the phone, his voice low and gentle. "Honey, I'm downstairs. You must come with me to your prenatal checkup today!" A clear female voice came through the phone, agonizingly sweet. "I know, honey. The meeting's almost over. Wait for me at the guest lounge." I had listened to that voice for seven years. I knew it far too well. It was my girlfriend, Quinn.

On my birthday, I passed out at home alone for more than two hours. My Alpha, Augustus Brock, took our son and went to an amusement park with Christine Terra, who had just severed her mate bond. Someone snapped photos of them, and the images went viral on social media. [Brock Pack's Alpha is enjoying a sweet family outing with his mate and heir. His Luna's face is revealed for the first time!] In the photo, Augustus held our child in one arm while wrapping the other around the woman beside him. My son, Ethan Brock, who had always been a neat freak and never let me touch him, had actually kissed that woman on the cheek. He was grinning from ear to ear. I lay on the floor. The harsh glow of my phone screen hurt my eyes. I then heard Augustus' voice through our mind link. "I'll celebrate your birthday with you next time. Christine just severed her mate bond and isn't in a good mood. I'm taking her out to cheer her up. Stop making a scene." Right after that, Ethan's voice followed through the mind link. "Mom, I want Christine to be my new mom! From now on, it's enough if you visit me once a month. If you come too often, she won't be happy about it." My phone buzzed. It was a message from an unknown number. [You know who he really loves. I've regained my freedom. If you know what's good for you, sever the mate bond yourself.]