She Calls the Wrong Number in Tears—Never Expects the Stranger Who Answers Is a Romantic Billionaire
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The Wrong Number That Changed Everything
Rain hammered relentlessly against the cracked windshield of Kiana Lo’s battered old Honda. The car had finally sputtered to a halt in the corner of a dimly lit gas station parking lot. The fluorescent lights overhead flickered, making the raindrops glisten like falling shards of glass. Kiana slammed her hand against the steering wheel in frustration.
“No, no, no… not now,” she whispered, turning the key again and again. Nothing. Not even a click.
At 27, Kiana felt twice her age. The weight on her shoulders was crushing. She glanced at her phone: 12:47 a.m. Her rent was three weeks overdue, with eviction looming the next day. Her mind raced to her sixteen-year-old sister, Zoe, who was home alone, running a fever that wouldn’t break. The clinic had turned them away yesterday because they couldn’t pay the co-pay. The rationed medicine wasn’t helping anymore.
“What am I going to do?” Kiana’s voice cracked, tears threatening to spill.
The rain intensified, drumming on the car’s roof. The last gas station employee locked up and drove away, leaving Kiana isolated in the cold night. Shivering, she reached for her phone. There was only one person who might help—Derek, her ex-boyfriend. They’d broken up six months ago when he moved to Chicago to focus on his career. But he’d promised he’d be there if she ever really needed him.
With trembling fingers, Kiana scrolled through her contacts and dialed Derek’s number. The phone rang once, twice, three times—then a deep, calm voice answered.
“Hello?”
It wasn’t Derek. The voice was richer, softer somehow, yet masculine and steady.
“I’m sorry,” Kiana said quickly, pulling the phone away to check the number. She’d hit a seven instead of a four in Derek’s number. “Wrong number. Sorry to bother you.”
Before she could hang up, the man spoke again. “Wait. Are you okay? You sound upset.”
Kiana hesitated. His genuine concern broke through her defenses. A sob escaped her lips before she could stop it.
“My car broke down,” she admitted. “I’m at a gas station, it’s late, and I don’t know what to do anymore.”
There was a pause. Then he said, “I’m Silus. What’s your name?”
“Kiana,” she whispered, wiping her eyes.
“Kiana,” he repeated, testing the sound. “That’s a beautiful name.”
“Lock your doors, okay?” Silus instructed. “Is there someone you can call to come get you?”
Kiana laughed bitterly. “That’s what I was trying to do when I dialed the wrong number. No friends or family left. My sister’s sick, and I don’t have many friends left. People get tired of hearing about your problems.”
“I know exactly what that’s like,” Silus said softly. Something in his voice made her believe he truly understood. “What about a tow truck?”
“I can’t afford it,” she admitted, embarrassment burning her cheeks.
Silus didn’t end the call or offer empty platitudes. Instead, he asked, “Do you want to tell me about it? I’m not doing anything else tonight.”
Maybe it was the anonymity of talking to a stranger, or maybe it was just that she’d reached her breaking point, but Kiana found herself telling him everything: how she’d been raising Zoe alone since their parents died in a car accident three years ago, how she’d lost her job during layoffs, how medical bills piled up, and how she was barely holding on.
Silus listened without interrupting, without trying to fix things. Just listening. And somehow, that was exactly what Kiana needed.
“I’m sorry,” she said after nearly twenty minutes.
“You don’t need to hear all this,” she added.
“Sometimes it helps to say things out loud to someone who doesn’t have any expectations,” Silus reminded her gently.
The rain had stopped, but the night felt darker than ever.
“Where do you live, Kiana?” Silus asked.
She hesitated. “Westbrook Heights. The apartment complex on Dale Street.”
“That’s not far from this gas station on Reed Avenue, right? The one with the broken sign?”
“Yes, that’s the one. How did you know?”
“Lucky guess,” Silus said. “Look, I’m going to call you a rideshare. The driver’s name is Marcus. He’s a friend of mine. He’ll take you home. No charge.”
“You don’t have to do that,” Kiana protested.
“I know I don’t have to. I want to.”
“And your car? I know a good mechanic who can look at it tomorrow. I’ll text you his info.”
Kiana was stunned by the stranger’s kindness. “Why are you helping me? You don’t even know me.”
“Maybe I need this as much as you do,” Silus said softly. “Marcus will be there in about ten minutes. Can you stay on the phone with me until he arrives?”
“Yes,” she whispered. “Thank you.”
They talked while she waited. Silus told her about the mystery book he was reading, describing it so vividly she wanted to read it too. His voice was calming, like a warm blanket on a cold night.
True to his word, a car pulled into the gas station ten minutes later. Marcus, an older man with kind eyes, helped Kiana gather her things and drove her home.
When she got to her apartment, Zoe was asleep on the couch, fever broken. Kiana covered her with a blanket, still on the phone with Silus.
“I’m home. Safe and sound, thanks to you.”
“I’m glad,” he said. There was something in his voice she couldn’t identify—relief, or something deeper.
“Can I call you tomorrow just to check on you and your sister?”
Kiana hesitated. This man was a stranger. But something told her she could trust him.
“Yes,” she said softly. “I’d like that.”
When they hung up, Kiana stared at her phone, the number that had answered wasn’t Derek’s—but somehow it had been exactly the right one to call that night.
Silus set his phone down on the sleek glass desk of his penthouse office. Outside, the city lights twinkled, but he barely noticed them. For the first time in months, he felt something other than cold numbness.
At 30, Silus had achieved more success than most in a lifetime. His finance firm managed billions. His face graced magazine covers. Yet he had never felt more alone.
A year ago, his wife Vanessa had filed for divorce, claiming he was emotionally unavailable. The tabloids feasted on the story. Three months ago, his mother died after a brief illness—the one person who had believed in him unconditionally.
Since then, Silus had withdrawn, running his company from a distance. He barely left his penthouse except to visit his mother’s grave.
When Kiana’s call came that night, he almost ignored it. But her voice held a pain that mirrored his own—a loneliness he recognized, a strength that impressed him even as she thought she was breaking.
He looked out over the city, thinking about Kiana—alone with her sick sister, carrying the world’s weight yet still fighting, still hoping.
He decided to help her, but anonymously. No gratitude, no complications. Just easing her burden.
Tomorrow, he would call his friend at the clinic to ensure Zoe got care. Arrange for her car to be fixed. Maybe find her a job opportunity.
For the first time since his mother’s death, Silus felt a flicker of warmth—a small flame of connection.
The wrong number that night might have been the most right thing to happen to him in a long time.
The next morning, Zoe’s fever had broken. She ate cereal, looking better than she had in days.
Kiana’s phone rang—an unknown number.
“Hello?” she answered, heart beating faster.
“Good morning, Kiana. It’s Silus. How are you and your sister today?”
His voice was warmer in daylight. Kiana smiled despite her worries.
“She’s better,” Kiana said, turning away so Zoe wouldn’t see.
“Thank you again for last night. I don’t know what I would have done.”
“I’m glad I could help,” Silus said. “I talked to my mechanic friend. He’ll tow your car and look at it. No commitment.”
“And the clinic? I can’t afford—”
“No worries. I have connections at Mercy Clinic. Ask for Dr. Patterson. He’s expecting you.”
Kiana was stunned. “Why are you doing all this?”
“Let’s just say I’ve been in a dark place. Talking to you last night was the first time I felt anything in a long time. Maybe you’re helping me as much as I’m helping you.”
Something in his voice touched Kiana deeply. This wasn’t pity. It was connection.
“Can I call you tonight?” Silus asked.
“I’d like that,” she said softly.
Over the next weeks, Silus and Kiana talked every night. Zoe teased about her mystery man, but Kiana didn’t mind. Silus’s voice had become her lifeline.
Her car was fixed at a fraction of the cost. Her landlord mysteriously extended her rent deadline. And now she stood in front of Pinnacle Tower, clutching her resume.
The interview was for a receptionist position at Thompson and Grant Financial Services.
Inside, the sleek marble lobby intimidated her. But Silus’s text echoed in her mind: “You’ve got this. They’ll love you as much as I do.”
When Silus unexpectedly appeared, their eyes met. The man whose voice had saved her stood before her—handsome, serious, and achingly familiar.
But the revelation of his identity shattered the fragile trust.
Months later, after many trials, Kiana and Silus stood hand in hand, ready to begin their life together.
The wrong number that rainy night had turned out to be exactly the right one.
The End
