Your Call Second Hand Novels & Stories

And before I second-guessed my decision, I hit the call. One... Two... The phone number is not active. I cursed. "Fuck!"

But I turned back anyway and pulled open the drawer. It was Scar calling. My fingers hovered over the screen for a moment, as I contemplated on picking up the call. The call dropped. Then, almost immediately, it rang again. This time I picked up. Brought the phone to my ear, and remained silent. “Why the fuck did you have to make me call twice?” the voice barked angrily. “Where the fuck have you been? Do you have the stamp?” I froze. Stamp? What stamp? I didn’t say a word.

Claire’s POV Flashback “The number you dialed is not responding..” beep beep I sighed. That was the same response I kept getting each time I tried to call Aiden. I had been feeling unwell lately and even missed my period. It bothered me so much that I was forced to visit the hospital even though I didn’t have much money but only the little I was saving for my rent, which would be due in two weeks. Since Aiden wasn’t picking up my calls, I had to go alone. But this was so unlike him.

“I’m sorry, sir, but you have a phone call.” I turned to Julian, “I’ll be back.” “Don’t leave me,” he said to his feet. “I’m following you.” And we ran to my study where I picked up the call. “Hello?” “Sir, we’re the bank and we’re trying to know if you are the one who said to pull out a lot of funds for the trip that you’ll be going to…” I trailed off while the person was talking as I smiled before looking across the room to see Julian investigating the paintings on the wall.

I called Margaret immediately. She picked up on the first ring. “I just got the same call,” she said. “Different number. Same voice.” I sat forward. “You think it’s real,” I said. “I think we can’t assume it isn’t,” she said. “What second layer,” I said. “That’s what I’ve been asking myself for the last three minutes,” she said. A pause. “Come in tomorrow morning. Early. We go through everything again from the beginning.” “Seven,” I said. “Seven,” she said.

"Thank you." "Not calling me Dante Moretti anymore?" "…" Feeling a bit sheepish, I asked. "I heard your mother call you Dante. Can I call you that from now on?" He seemed only partially satisfied, lightly raising an eyebrow. "…Temporarily acceptable." "What do you mean, temporarily?" Before I could even finish my words, my phone rang in my coat pocket. It was an unknown number. Frowning, I answered, "Hello, who is this?" "Isabella… it's me."

“But remember, Lady Elowen. Second wives don’t get to rewrite the story. They only get to accept the ending.” Elowen held that gaze for one long moment, then turned slightly - just enough to show she was aware of the dais and the court beyond it. The banners fluttered faintly with the movement of air through high doors. The sound of distant bells - announcement bells, ceremonial bells - threaded through the hall, low and inevitable.

It was a lifeline. ​I was only an hour into wiping down tables on my first day when Mark called me over. ​"Jamie, special task. Step into the back office. Now." ​I followed him, my gut churning. Mark closed the door behind us, and when he turned, he wasn't smiling. He was leaning against the desk, and he looked dangerous. He pulled out a massive stack of cash—bundles upon bundles of $1,000 pesos bills—and spread them out like a fan.