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The chosen wife
Last Updated:
2025-10-22 14:01:30
Latest chapter
After One Night Stand I Became His Wife His first love
The morning light spilled through the tall windows of the mansion, soft and filtered through thin white curtains. The estate was quiet, the kind of silence that came not from peace but from control — a hush built by fear and precision. Every servant moved quietly, their steps muted against the polished floors.Colden was already awake.He stood before the mirror, buttoning the cuffs of his shirt with mechanical precision, his reflection as sharp and disciplined as his thoughts. The events of last night still lingered faintly — the conversation with his mother, her voice as cold and poised as ever, the reminder of vengeance pulsing like an old scar.He had slept little. Revenge didn’t allow rest.“Layla,” he said quietly, turning from the mirror.She looked up from where she sat near the dressing table, her fingers fiddling nervously with the hem of her dress. “Yes?”“We’ll be leaving soon,” he said, his tone even, clipped. “Be ready within the hour.”She nodded, swallowing hard. “Alri
After One Night Stand I Became His Wife She's just pretty nothing else
The corridors of the estate were silent that night, silent in the way only the houses of the rich could be — where money smothered even the echoes. Colden moved through the marble hall with soundless steps, his coat brushing against his wrist, the faint scent of his mother’s perfume still clinging to his skin. It was a scent he had known since childhood — lavender and sandalwood — once comforting, now heavy with memories of a woman who learned to smile while plotting ruin.He entered his wing of the mansion. The air there was cooler, the faint hum of the city’s night filtering through the balcony curtains. His eyes, sharp and calculating, softened for a fraction of a second when they fell on the bed.Layla was asleep.The lamp on the nightstand flickered dimly, casting a thin golden halo across her form. She was curled up near the edge of the bed, as if afraid to take up space that wasn’t hers. Her hand rested lightly against the pillow, her hair falling over her cheek in loose waves.
After One Night Stand I Became His Wife The first thing he saw was her
The room was too quiet — the kind of silence that carried memories of sharp words and unhealed wounds. The faint scent of rosewater and age-old perfume drifted through the air, clinging to the velvet curtains and the glass shelves lined with antique vases.Colden hesitated at the door before entering. His mother’s room had always felt more like a mausoleum than a living space — elegant, immaculate, but lifeless.“Come in,” came her voice, calm and distant.He stepped inside. His mother sat near the window, draped in a silk shawl, her silver hair tied neatly at her nape. A half-finished cup of tea sat before her, untouched, just like everything else in her world.“You wanted to see me,” Colden said.She looked up. Her eyes — still sharp, still assessing — met his, and for a brief second, he saw what others rarely did: exhaustion buried beneath layers of grace.“Yes,” she said softly, gesturing for him to sit. “I did.”He moved to the chair opposite hers, the old wood creaking faintly b
After One Night Stand I Became His Wife You should fear the fake smiles
The night air inside the Colden mansion felt heavier than it had when Layla first arrived.Dinner was over, yet the tension hadn't lifted — it lingered in the air like the faint scent of perfume and old money.As they stepped into the vast marble hallway, servants hurriedly cleared dishes and dimmed the chandeliers, their movements silent and efficient.Colden slipped his hands into his pockets, his expression unreadable. “Go to my room and wait,” he said quietly, not looking at her.Layla blinked. “You’re not coming?”“I have something to discuss with my mother.” His voice was calm, but there was steel beneath it. “It won’t take long.”She hesitated. “Should I—”He cut her off without raising his voice. “Wait.”Then he turned and walked down the long corridor that led to his mother’s quarters.Layla watched his tall figure fade into the shadows. His steps were measured, confident, echoing through the mansion like the rhythm of command. She stood there for a moment, unsure what to do
After One Night Stand I Became His Wife Mother in law's warning
The clinking of silverware filled the silence.Layla sat stiffly beside Colden, the crystal chandelier above them scattering pale gold light across the glossy mahogany table. Every glittering surface reflected wealth, power — and judgment.She could feel every gaze, every whispered thought pricking at her skin.They’d been polite when she arrived — smiles too sweet, questions too smooth — but the warmth was poisoned sugar.“So,” one of the women began, swirling her wine like it was an extension of her venom, “where are you from, dear?”Layla set her fork down slowly. “A small town outside the city,” she said softly, hoping that simplicity might end it there.No such luck.“And what do your parents do?” another asked, tone dripping with curiosity that wasn’t really curiosity.Her throat tightened. “They... run a small shop.”She doesn't want to talk about them. “Ah,” came the response — faintly disappointed, faintly mocking. “So modest.”Someone else leaned forward. “And your school?
After One Night Stand I Became His Wife The chosen wife
The room was silent once Colden left, the echo of his footsteps fading down the long hall like a fading heartbeat.Layla sat still for a few seconds, letting herself breathe. It was strange how quickly his presence could fill a room — and how empty everything felt the second he was gone.Her gaze wandered around the space she’d been left in. Colden’s room. It was large — larger than her entire apartment back home — but there was something suffocating about it. Every line, every color, every piece of furniture screamed control.Dark wooden shelves filled with books stood perfectly aligned. The bed was made neatly, every corner tucked in with precision. A heavy scent of cedar and expensive cologne hung in the air.It was a man’s room — cold, masculine, deliberate.No warmth. No comfort. Just stillness.She stood and walked around, running her fingers along the edges of the furniture. Everything was spotless, organized — lifeless. Yet, here and there, traces of a boy’s life peeked throug
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