What Happens In 'A Telephonic Conversation'?

One impulsive kiss to hide from an ex. One desperate contract to save a child. After a double betrayal by her boyfriend and best friend, Lyra impulsively kisses a handsome stranger in a grocery store to avoid being seen weak.That stranger turns out to be Lucas Thorne, a cold tech billionaire whose traumatized nephew Leo, has been silent since an accident. When Lyra is hired as Leo's specialist, the boy forms an unbreakable bond with her the only person who can bring back his voice. To ensure his son's recovery, Lucas proposes a one year marriage contract. But as Leo begins to speak and the fake family starts feeling real, Lyra and Lucas must decide if their marriage ends when the contract does, or if they're ready to admit that the healing wasn't just for the child it was for them too.

On the day of the crash, I called Enzo Vitale ninety-nine times on the emergency channel. On the hundredth call, his Consigliere finally picked up. "Don Enzo has already used family resources to escort Miss Moretti to a private hospital," he said. "Her condition…isn’t good. Don asked me to tell you not to disturb him again." But that was not the worst part. When I woke up, my baby was gone. The doctor said the accident was too severe and they could not save the child. Then I heard the truth. “Chiara is carrying my child,” Enzo said. “Her last wish is to have a child before she goes. I gave her that. But this must stay between us. Alessia cannot know.” “We had no choice,” my mother Rosalina said, her voice flat. “Chiara doesn't have long. We want her last days to be peaceful.” “Alessia will understand,” my father Alberto said. “She's always been reasonable. She'll see this is about giving a dying woman her final wish.” They were comforting a dying woman. My child was dead. But all they cared about was Chiara's baby. I stumbled away. Chiara stood at the end of the hallway and smiled at me. “I am not dying,” she whispered. “I just want everything you have.” I picked up my phone and dialed a number. “Professor Luciano,” I said quietly. “I've changed my mind. I am ready to join your closed medical research program.” The woman who once begged for love had died with her child.

I only realized I was the protagonist of a mafia novel after I met my husband, and the mafia boss, Lucien Vaughn, was a traveler from another world. According to the rules of his world, he wasn't allowed to develop romantic feelings for anyone in the story. However, the moment he saw me, he fell in love. And every time his heart stirred for me, he suffered pain so intense it felt as if his soul were being torn apart. He endured it ninety-nine times. Then, one day, I was kidnapped by a rival mafia family and taken to South Merica, where I suffered brutal torture. Yet somehow, I managed to escape and hide in a basement. As I listened to my enemies raging outside and searching for me, I quickly used the secret method Lucien had taught me to contact the world beyond this one. The connection worked, and through it, I overheard a conversation between Lucien and one of his friends from the other world. “Lucien, I thought Olivia was the person you loved most! How could you arrange for your enemies to kidnap her?” Lucien's voice was calm and detached. “I didn't have a choice. If I hadn't done it, then Emily Carter would've suffered in this storyline instead. She’s only a supporting character. She would’ve died. “But Olivia is the protagonist. The storyline will protect her. Once this story’s mission is completed, I'll finally be able to stay in this world forever. And when that happens, I'll make it up to Olivia." Tears streamed down my face. My heart felt as if it had been ripped apart, leaving behind nothing but pain and despair. So, when my enemies finally smashed open the basement door, I didn't struggle or run.

The cocktail hour had just ended when I picked up a video call in the bridal suite. It was Ethan, three years from now. By then, time‑travel tech had matured enough to let him contact me three years into the past. After enough specific details, I finally believed it. The man on the screen really was Ethan, three years older. I rubbed my aching ankle and pouted at him through the screen. "Ethan, smiling at all these guests is exhausting. But the second I remember I actually married you today, I'm happy all over again." "We're still happy three years from now, right?" He was leaning back against a headboard, and he didn't answer. His face was flat and unreadable. Then I heard it: a woman's voice from his end, low and breathy, asking to be kissed. I froze for a second, then covered my mouth and laughed. "Is that future me? In broad daylight? Get a room." Ethan turned the camera into the bed. My maid of honor was lying there, naked, sprawled across his chest. Her body was covered in hickeys. He looked straight at me as I started to break, and his voice didn't shift at all. "As soon as the reception ended, I told you I had a client meeting. I went to her room instead." "Jo, now you know what's coming. The guests haven't gone home yet. If you want a divorce tonight, you can have one. Up to you."

The buzzing of my phone in the middle of the night jolted me awake. On the other end of the line came a voice I could never forget. It was my daughter! However, she died three years ago!

On our sixth wedding anniversary, my cheeks burn as I dodge my husband, Ethan Grant, leaning in for a hungry kiss. I push him toward the nightstand for a rubber. What he doesn't know is that I've tucked a surprise in there, a positive pregnancy test. I can already see it, the way his whole face will light up the second he finds it. But the moment his hand goes for the drawer, his phone goes off. His best friend, Henry Miller, comes on the line in Danish. "Mr. Grant, how was last night? That new love couch our company rolled out is treating you okay?" Ethan lets out a low laugh and answers in Danish, "The massage feature's great. Saves me from having to rub Sandy's back myself." He still has me pulled tight against him, but his eyes look straight through me, like he's seeing someone else. "This stays between us. If my wife ever finds out I slept with her sister, I'm done." It feels like someone just put a knife through my chest. What they don't know is that I minored in Danish in college, so I catch every single word. I force myself to stay calm, but the arms I have looped around Ethan's neck won't stop shaking. At that moment, I stop hesitating and decide I'll take the offer from that international research project. Three days from now, I'll be gone from Ethan's world for good.