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She’s My Wife

Author: PenWrites
last update publish date: 2026-04-27 04:42:06

Lila's P.O.V

Back at the vineyard house that night, I confronted Ethan fully.

"Tell me everything about Felicia," I said, my voice steadier than I felt. We were in the old kitchen, the one with the scarred oak table where my father used to sketch irrigation plans. The air smelled of earth and faint lavender from the fields outside, but tension hung heavy, like a storm cloud over the vines.

Ethan poured wine from one of our bottles—deep red, from last year's harvest—and slid a glass toward me. H
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  • Betrothed To Six Lovers   The Night That Broke Us

    Lila’s P.O.V.The figure stepped closer, moonlight catching his face. It was Ethan. For a split second, everything else faded—the cold dirt under my knees, the ache in my shoulder from Damien's shove, the echo of Noah's cries as the car sped away. Ethan was here. My husband, my anchor. He would fix this. He always did.But as he rushed toward me, his expression shifting from confusion to alarm, I knew nothing would be fixed tonight. "Lila? Oh God, what happened?" He dropped beside me, his hands framing my face, thumbs wiping at the mud and tears. "Are you okay? Talk to me."I clutched his arms, sobs hitching in my chest. "Ethan... Noah's gone. Damien took him."He blinked, like the words didn't compute. "Damien? What are you—where's Aiden? Shayla and Lucas?""Inside. Sleeping. But Noah..." My voice broke. "I have to tell you everything."He helped me stand, his arm strong around my waist as we stumbled back to the house. The back door creaked open, the kitchen light harsh against my r

  • Betrothed To Six Lovers   The Child I Gave Away

    Lila’s P.O.V.I stood in the kitchen, the note crumpled in my fist, staring at the back door like it was a gateway to hell. The diaper bag sat heavy on my shoulder, Noah snuggled against me in the carrier, his little breaths warm through my coat. The clock on the wall ticked past 10:55. The barn was a ten-minute walk across the east field—dark, overgrown, forgotten. Damien would be waiting there, his patience worn thin by my pleas and delays.But I couldn't move. My feet felt rooted to the floorboards, like the vines outside had crept in and wrapped around my ankles. All day I'd rehearsed the words in my head: Ethan, Noah isn't yours. He's Damien's. We need to face this together. I'd waited for the perfect moment—that fateful Saturday, the one where everything was supposed to shatter or mend. Ethan had been out most of the afternoon, meeting with a potential buyer for next season's harvest. "Back by dinner," he'd said, kissing me goodbye with that easy smile. But dinner came and went,

  • Betrothed To Six Lovers   Three Days Until Ruin

    Lila’s P.O.V.The first text came at 4:17 a.m. the morning after the bridge.I woke to the soft buzz on the nightstand, the screen lighting up the dark bedroom like a warning flare. Ethan slept beside me, one arm flung across the pillow, breathing steady and deep. I slipped the phone under the covers so the glow wouldn’t wake him and opened the message.Unknown number:I’ve thought about it all night, Lila. You hid my son from me for months. You let another man raise him, name him, claim him. I won’t let that stand. I’m coming for Noah. He deserves to know his real father, and I won’t leave him in a house where he’s only half-wanted. Be ready. I’ll be there soon.My heart slammed against my ribs so hard I thought it might wake Ethan. I stared at the words until they blurred, then typed back with shaking fingers.Me: Please don’t. We can talk. I’m not hiding him anymore. I told you. That’s why I met you. Just give me time.The three dots appeared almost immediately.Unknown: Time? You’

  • Betrothed To Six Lovers   Noon On The Stone Bridge

    Lila's P.O.VThe vineyard looked different in the late autumn light—golden, almost forgiving, as if the vines themselves were trying to pretend the last few months hadn’t happened. The boys were three months old now: Aiden with his father’s dimples and serious blue eyes, Noah with his darker curls and the watchful gaze that sometimes made my stomach twist. They slept in their cribs side by side, tiny fists curled near their cheeks, and every time I looked at them I felt the same impossible mixture of love and dread.I hadn’t planned to contact Damien. After he showed up at our door that night—smirking, saying “We need to talk about my child” like it was a casual business arrangement—I’d told myself it was over. Ethan had called the police. Damien had disappeared again before the cruiser even turned into the drive. I’d screamed at Diane until my voice cracked, and she’d left in tears, our friendship lying in pieces on the porch floor. Therapy had helped Ethan and me stitch things back

  • Betrothed To Six Lovers   Trust Me, I Won’t Tell

    Lila's P.O.VThe vineyard air was thick with the scent of ripening grapes, a sweetness that clung to everything like a promise of harvest. It was mid-afternoon, the sun hanging lazy in the sky, casting long shadows across the rows of vines that Ethan had so meticulously tended. The twins, Shayla and Lucas, were down for their nap inside the house, their little chests rising and falling in that deep, innocent sleep that made my heart ache with love—and now, with this new layer of fear. I sat on the porch swing, my hand absently resting on my still-flat belly, feeling the invisible weight of the lives growing there. Lives that should have been pure joy, but instead felt like a tangled vine choking the life out of me.It had been a week since I'd received those DNA results from the mail-in kit. A week of pretending everything was fine, of smiling through Ethan's excited chatter about nursery expansions and baby names. He'd been so thrilled when I told him about the pregnancy, lifting me

  • Betrothed To Six Lovers   The Test I Couldn’t Burn

    Lila's P.O.V.The vines were in full bloom again, their leaves a vibrant green canopy against the summer sky, two years after Shayla and Lucas had turned our world into a chaotic symphony of laughter, tantrums, and endless wonder. The twins were toddlers now, Shayla with her wild curls and fierce independence, Lucas with his dimpled smile and Ethan's easy charm. They chased each other through the rows of grapes, their giggles echoing like music, while Ethan and I watched from the porch, sipping iced tea. Life had settled into a rhythm that felt almost too good to be true— the vineyard thriving under Ethan's expansions, my design business picking up with remote clients, and Damien a distant memory, his name rarely mentioned except in hushed updates from the private investigator. He'd slunk off to Europe, or so the reports said, no further threats, no shadows lurking.But secrets have a way of resurfacing, don't they? Like weeds in the soil, they push through no matter how deeply you bu

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