Purple Phone

To pay off my student loans, I started doing spicy streams online. I never thought I'd actually blow up. Every night, my audience floods the chat, fawning over my face and my body. I love the attention, and I work hard to give them what they want. Until I was dropped into a horror game. The first thing I saw when I opened my eyes was a rotting corpse. And for some reason, my livestream was still running. When the game’s Boss told us all to pick a weapon to die by. The other players all chose to die of old age, or peacefully in their sleep like a baby. I turned my phone to face the boss. "My fans think you're hot," I stammered. "They want me to be killed by... well, by the weapon between your legs. They said 'deeply.' Is that... an option?" The other players whispered among themselves. “This woman must have a death wish.” “Just watch. The Boss is about to tear her to shreds.” But no one expected the Boss to blush.

I thought I was the Conti family's "legitimate wife." Until the day I saw it with my own eyes, my husband, Christian, resting his hand on my stepsister Emma's bump belly, gentle like he was cradling the future. Everyone told me to be "big-heated": when the baby was born, they'd put it under my name, make him call me Mom, because the family needed an "heir." Even the private doctor they hired announced it in front of everyone—steady heartbeat, and from the ultrasound, it looked like a boy. I didn't cry and didn't make a scene. I just picked up the phone and told my lawyer to initiate the divestment. Twenty-four hours later, Christian's cards were frozen, his projects got their loans yanked, and assets started getting seized— That's when he finally understood: he hadn't betrayed a wife. He'd betrayed the lifeline of the entire family. But what I really wanted to know was— When he dropped to his knees and begged me to come back, would I tell him— I had already picked out his grave?

For the hundredth time, my dad hints at us that he really wants to become a grandfather during New Year Eve's dinner. Lydia Cooper, my wife who has insisted on living a childless life for the past decade, just smiles before placing more food on his plate. After dinner, she ducks out to the balcony and murmurs into her phone, "Be good, now. Mommy will visit you a few days later." I can feel my blood running cold in my veins as I stand in the living room with a glass of water. As I approach Lydia, I do my best to keep my voice light and teasing. "I just heard you say the word 'mommy.' Do you have an illegitimate child out there somewhere?" Lydia rubs her nose, her tone now awkward. "You might be hearing things. It was just my friend's child…" My heart plunges into my stomach pit at her words. I've been in love with Lydia for ten years. It's only natural that I know how she acts whenever she's lying.

I’m the daughter of the Alpha of the Embermoon Pack. As my post-transformation wolf form was tall, powerful, and strikingly beautiful, I had always been favored by my parents and cherished by the pack. Yet, during a journey with my brother, Gariel, I was betrayed, ambushed, and sold into an illegal mining camp on the frontier. There, electric fences, raised gun barrels, and endless despair became my prison. To prevent escape, the overseer would select a group of so-called “lucky ones” at regular intervals. In front of all the miners, they would hack off their hands and feet. Half a year slipped by in torment, and I wasted away until I was barely recognizable. My body was covered in scars, looking like a demon dragged out of hell. Even so, I clung to the belief that my brother would come for me. Then, one day, by pure accident, I overheard a phone call between the overseer and my brother. “You sure are ruthless to have the heart to sell your beautiful sister to us. Your parents must be losing their minds by now.” Those words instantly extinguished the very last trace of hope I had left.

I was setting up a weekend shopping list on the tablet my husband had just replaced for our home system. A notification popped up. He had forgotten to log out of a shared, encrypted family calendar— one I didn’t recognize. There was only one unfamiliar profile photo. I tapped it. A list titled “My Little Princess – Personal Notes” filled the screen. My Little Princess doesn’t drink alcohol—only mineral water or herbal tea. No late nights. She needs absolute quiet to sleep. She gets anxious easily—keep fresh white lilies in the house and her favorite vanilla chocolates on hand. I scrolled slowly, my expression unreadable. The final entry was bolded. Highlighted. “Next Wednesday: take my Little Princess to choose her wedding crown.” I closed the screen. Then I picked up my phone and called my husband. “Love,” I said gently. “Does your Little Princess prefer a classic European bridal crown… or something more traditional? I thought I could help you choose.”

Isla Hart gave up her dreams for love. But when love gave up on her, she had no choice but to fight for herself. After marrying the man she thought was her first, and forever, love, she gave up everything: her career, her family, her identity. For six years, she lived quietly as a devoted wife and mother, convinced that her sacrifices were for a greater good. Until the day he whispered another woman’s name under anesthesia. Until the woman showed up, pregnant with twins, claiming to be the real love of his life. Humiliated, heartbroken, and called unworthy by her husband’s family, she takes her three-year-old daughter and walks into a stormy night with nothing but a suitcase, a broken heart, and a single phone number to call. But rock bottom is where her story truly begins. With the help of an old friend, and a man she never saw coming, she’ll find the courage to start over, the strength to stand tall, and the power to prove that she is, and always was, more than enough. A story of betrayal, resilience, and second chances in love, Unworthy No More is a heart-tugging journey from silent suffering to radiant strength.

I became the ultimate simp for Shannon Seay, the school's notorious flirt, and everyone assumed I was head over heels for her. When she skipped classes to pick fights or chase thrills, I'd copy notes and homework for her. When she tangled in ambiguous flings with other guys, I'd provide alibis to cover her tracks. For three grueling years, I poured my heart and soul into transforming her into an academic star, securing her spot at a top university. But right before orientation, she dumped me. Towering over me, she declared, "I know you've had a crush on me forever, but you're all books and no spark. Compared to Hunter, you're too rigid. We're done. I'm with him now." The crowd held its breath, anticipating my meltdown. I peeked at my phone, confirming a $50-million transfer, and replied with genuine nonchalance, "Alright, congrats." No one knew my unwavering devotion was purely because her father had paid handsomely for it. Now that the pay had been secured, it was time for me to vanish.

Thanks to my dad's work, I have to transfer schools. Soon, I go to my new school to register for my enrolment. After submitting my personal information, the teacher in charge shoots me an odd look. "Is your father Mr. Chapman, the new shareholder? His child should have enrolled with us a long time ago. In fact, his daughter is half a year older than you. You're not that person at all…" Stunned, I dig out my phone and show my photo with my dad to the teacher. She glances at the photo before showing me the system window. "Mr. Chapman's daughter has been studying in this school since the first term. He even donated a library to the school recently. This is a photo the school board has taken. You can take a look yourself." In the photo, my dad and an unfamiliar student can be seen standing at the school's bulletin board. That young lady looks as old as I do. Her features are similar to my dad's. In fact, she resembles him more than I do! If they are an actual father and daughter pair, then who am I?

The day I died, the baby in my womb was only five months old. In that final phone call, my father, John Harlow, the godfather of the Harlow family, spoke with a voice as icy as a loaded gun. "A married woman belongs to her husband's family, even in death." When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day I had been placed under house arrest. He was circling my college application with a red pen. "Girls who study art are easier to marry off." In front of him, I tore the family's marriage alliance files into pieces. "I'm going to Camford University. I'm studying Computer Science." He sprang to his feet so suddenly that his finger nearly jabbed my face, his sleeve cuff revealing the family crest tattoo. "If you dare defy me, don't ever regard me as godfather." I smiled. "Exactly what I want." Meeting his stunned gaze, I spoke each word deliberately. "The name Harlow. I have long stopped wanting it."

“How dare you disgrace the family?” Richard Donovan’s voice was as sharp as his grasp on little Samantha's arm. At twelve years old, Samantha Donovan realized one thing, some dreams aren't made for girls. Samantha Donovan gets exiled for six years, because she dared to play hockey in her twin brother's place. Not until a phone call changes everything, her twin brother is brutally injured, and Richard has a condition. She gets to play again, but in disguise of her brother, the very reason he exiled her. She has to take Adrian Volkov's place by any means possible. Adrian Volkov was the son of her father's number one enemy. The real danger was not in hiding her identity, but having Adrian Volkov, the insanely hot captain and guy she's supposed to beat as a roommate. He is cold, arrogant, calculative and very suspicious of Samantha. Each encounter brings them dangerously close together, heat and passion sparks on and off the rink. Samantha fears Adrian finding her secret, and their family feud was another factor she has to consider.