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Believe Him
Last Updated:
2025-05-06 22:57:52
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Capturing Viola: His Wife Is Mine Alone
Viola McCoy He didn’t show up. He never has. But this time, I really thought he would. A knot forms at the pit of my stomach. Why did I let myself hope this time? Maybe because I had woken up to Julian, my husband, holding a bouquet of flowers and waiting to hand them to me as soon as I’d woken up.Even though it’s my birthday, I hadn’t expected him to do something special for me. He’s not done something special for me in a long long time. But still, that simple gesture—coupled with the special dinner he’d said he planned for both of us this evening—had made me hope he really meant every word he said.But he didn’t. And now, I’m sitting alone at Chilvary Restaurant, staring at the untouched candle on my cake. I exhale slowly, forcing down the sting of humiliation. I can leave. I should leave. But instead, I continue to sit there, waiting, just like I always do. The restaurant doors swing open, and for a brief, stupid second, I think it’s him. It isn’t. The candle on my c
Last Updated : 2025-03-05Capturing Viola: His Wife Is Mine My Life
Viola McCoy I blink through my tears as I drive back home. A part of me is aching but another part of me isn’t surprised. Julian has had a few scandals with a few women over the years which he always denies. So I shouldn’t even feel anything.My grip tightens around the steering wheel as I step on the gas. The cool night air does nothing to make me feel better. What I should feel though, is the urge to run. But I also know I never will because leaving isn’t an option when you have nowhere to go.No family to run to. A spiteful step mother who wants nothing to do with me would never accept me. And my step siblings are no good either. I could run to my parents but they’re both up there. In heaven, probably watching their daughter settle for less and less everyday.So, yes, I keep driving. Past the streetlights, past my pride, past every version of me that deserved better.When I finally arrive at my home—a spiraling penthouse in the heart of Chicago, I let myself breath. Julian’
Last Updated : 2025-03-05Capturing Viola: His Wife Is Mine My Past
Viola McCoy The next morning, I wake up around 6am. I turn my head. The space next to me is untouched, the sheets are still smooth. Julian didn’t bother coming upstairs last night. As usual. I shrug, staring at the ceiling. My throat feels a bit sore and my eyelids are heavy. I should get more sleep before I get ready for the office. I still have an hour or so. But I can’t get myself to sleep. Instead, I grab my laptop on the nightstand, sitting up on my bed. I stare at the blinking cursor on my laptop screen for a while. Besides work, writing is the only thing that still belongs to me. The only thing Julian hasn’t controlled. And that’s probably because he doesn’t know about it, nobody does. To the world, I’m a faceless writer with the name Shortstuff002 whose words have reached thousands. My readers love my stories, waiting for each new chapter as if I hold the answers to their own heartbreaks. And maybe, just maybe their positive comments have kept me going until now.I
Last Updated : 2025-03-05Capturing Viola: His Wife Is Mine Logan Reynolds
Logan Reynolds Viola McCoy still holds her breath when she’s nervous. I shouldn’t have noticed that. Shouldn’t have remembered. But the second I said her name, I saw it—the way her shoulders tensed, the slight hitch in her throat. The way she refused to look at me. I want her to look at me. To say something. The girl I knew would have. She used to joke that her voice was made for radio and her face for the goddamn silver screen. Full lips, high cheekbones, curls that spilled over her tanned shoulders. Blue-gray eyes that always sparked with warmth. Skin that glowed like liquid silk in the sunlight. But that girl is gone. Her hair is straight now even though she used to say she hated straight hair because they were too basic and boring. Her eyes have lost its warmth. She wears crisp white shirts with an expression I can’t quite place.But I see through it. I don’t blame her for pretending I don’t exist. Maybe I don’t, not to her. Three years is a long time. Long e
Last Updated : 2025-03-05Capturing Viola: His Wife Is Mine The Call
Logan Reynolds“Well, you’re doing great for someone I underrated.” Grant says as he walks into my office. “Don’t overdo it because you’re running away from something.”He gives me one of his knowing looks and I hate that he knows me so well. I grit my teeth. He knows I’m burying myself with work on the first day so I don’t have to think about Viola. Grant takes a seat from across me, propping his elbows on my messy desk. “You can’t avoid her forever. Might as well just resolve the unresolved issues and move on.”I sneer at him, finally dropping the pen in my hand and giving him my full attention. “There’s no unresolved issue. Viola is in my past.”“But that past is somehow still infiltrating your present. How about you two have a nice chat and clear the air?.”“She doesn’t seem to want one.” I say. “You saw the way she ignored me.”“Well, she hates you, give or take.” Grant pinches the bridge of his nose. “Plus, she’s happily married. I’m sure she also wants clarity so it doesn’t
Last Updated : 2025-03-05Capturing Viola: His Wife Is Mine The Guest
Viola McCoy The city lights blur past me as I drive back home. It’s past 7pm and the hum of the engine is the only sound in the car. But my mind is loud, louder than ever.Logan is really back.He looks pretty much the same as he did three years ago. They say some people don’t age. He didn’t, he only grew taller with broader shoulders. My insides tighten anytime I remember the image of him from this morning. He was always the prototypical American golden boy with sandy hair, cornflower-blue eyes and a wide grin. But that doesn’t matter now because I’ve spent the whole day pretending he isn’t back. Pretending I didn’t see him, pretending his presence didn’t shake something loose inside me. But no amount of pretending can stop the truth from creeping in. He was there. Standing in front of me. Looking at me like I was some ghost from his past instead of a woman who had learned to survive without him. My phone buzzes in the cupholder. I glance down. Amirah. I already know why she’
Last Updated : 2025-03-11Capturing Viola: His Wife Is Mine Own
Viola McCoy My breath catches in my throat as Logan walks towards me. I school my features into indifference as his gaze meets mine. His gaze is steady and unreadable, but there’s something in his blue eyes—something I don’t dare decipher. “It’s good to see you again,” Logan says in familiar way that makes my chest tighten. Before I can even formulate a response, Julian’s arm snakes around my waist, pulling me against him. His grip is possessive, and his lips brush against my temple in a show of affection that doesn’t belong to us. Not really. “We must all be famished,” Julian announces. “Let’s eat first.” I swallow down whatever emotion is threatening to rise and let him lead me to the dining table. Logan settles across from us and I can’t help but notice the slight tension at the corner of his mouth. I force myself to focus on my plate. Dinner is silent. The kind of silence that isn’t comfortable or easy. My heart is pounding and I think they both would’ve heard
Last Updated : 2025-03-11Capturing Viola: His Wife Is Mine The Show
Logan Reynolds The second I walked through their door, I knew something was off. Viola barely looked at me, barely spoke. And Julian? He was trying too hard—too many pet names, too many little displays of affection that didn’t feel real. I’ve been around long enough to know that when a man has to prove he owns something, it’s because he’s not sure he owns it. Dinner was a damn performance. Julian putting on a show, Viola sitting there in silence, and me stuck watching something I never should’ve walked into. I shouldn’t have come. Whatever history Viola and I had, it’s clear I just made things worse for her tonight. The last thing I ever wanted was to make her uncomfortable in her own home. And yet… the way she looked at me. The way she didn’t look at Julian. Yeah. Something’s not right.But at least I know why Julian wanted me in his home. I’ve played these games before and I know he just wanted me to see that Viola belongs to him now. But Vi isn’t an object of possessi
Last Updated : 2025-03-11
Latest chapter
Capturing Viola: His Wife Is Mine Believe Him
Viola McCoy Morning comes slowly, like the sun is reluctant to rise after all the darkness it witnessed last night.I open my eyes to the faint golden light filtering in through the heavy curtains. My throat is dry. My limbs feel like sandbags. I don’t know how long I’ve slept, but it still doesn’t feel like enough. There’s a dull ache across my temples and a soreness in my chest that spreads like a bruise beneath my skin.I don’t want to move.I don’t want to see the world.I pull the blanket closer to my chin and curl tighter into the sheets that still smell faintly of detergent and Logan. My heart sinks when I realize I’m still wearing the robe from last night, and beneath it, nothing else. I press my face into the pillow, and a fresh wave of tears sting the corners of my eyes.I’ve never felt this... small.Not even on the worst nights with Julian. Not even when I cried in the shower after one of his biting insults or the days I stared at myself in the mirror trying to find t
Capturing Viola: His Wife Is Mine Cared For
Logan Reynolds Viola breaks down in the hallway.It happens so fast, it’s like watching someone snap from the inside out—quiet, brittle, then crumbling all at once. Her knees hit the carpet like she doesn’t feel the pain, and her hands tremble as they cover her face. I watch her whole body heave, like the sobs are ripping their way out from somewhere deep inside her, places I’ve only ever guessed at.I want to kill him.My fists are still tight, still itching for his throat. I’ve never wanted to end someone the way I want to end Julian right now. But I can’t think like that. Not with her here. Not with her shaking like she’s barely holding on.I kneel beside her. “Vi…” My voice is low.She doesn’t look at me, doesn’t stop crying.I touch her shoulder gently. “Do you want to go to the hospital?”She shakes her head immediately. “No.”Her voice is hoarse. Fragile. I hear the no, but I still hesitate. My gut says she should be looked at—physically, emotionally—but her eyes dart up
Capturing Viola: His Wife Is Mine Survivor
Viola McCoy When I wake up, I feel like I’ve been hit by a train.My body aches in places I didn’t know could hurt. My mouth is dry, my head is heavy, and every bone feels like it’s bruised with exhaustion. The room is pitch dark, but I can see the outline of the heavy curtains drawn shut. There’s a bitter, metallic taste on my tongue, and when I shift to sit up, my back protests in sharp pulses of pain.I glance at the clock.2:03 a.m. Three hours of sleep. That’s all. It feels like I’ve lived an entire lifetime since sunset. My skin feels clammy. I press a hand to my chest, trying to steady the thudding panic that’s settled.And then—The door creaks open.I freeze.The light flips on, flooding the room in a sudden wash of yellow. My eyes squint against it, and I blink up at the silhouette standing in the doorway.Julian.His jaw is tight. Eyes narrowed. His fists clenched at his sides like he walked here straight out of a fight—and maybe, in his head, he did.“What the f
Capturing Viola: His Wife Is Mine Free
Viola McCoy I slam the door behind me and lock it.My back hits the wood, and I slide to the floor like I’ve been shot in the chest. The sob that escapes me is raw and sudden, like it’s been sitting in my throat for years just waiting for a chance to scream its way out.The room is dim—one of the guest suites with golden wallpaper. The bed’s still made. The lights are off except for the lamp in the corner. It smells like polished furniture and roses. I pull my knees to my chest.And then I cry.I cry like my body’s collapsing inward. Like every ounce of strength I’ve faked for years is melting out of me and I can’t stop it. It’s not even graceful. It’s ugly, heaving, snotty, shoulder-shaking grief. The kind that steals your breath and leaves your chest hollow.I cover my mouth with my hand to muffle the sounds, but I don’t think anyone’s listening.Good.Let them have their damn cake-covered disaster. Let them stand there stunned while I fall apart in peace.My cheek still sti
Capturing Viola: His Wife Is Mine Walk away
Logan Reynolds Viola’s fallen asleep beside me now.She’s curled against my shoulder, hair brushing my chin, one hand resting gently on my chest. Her breath comes in soft little waves. I haven’t moved in the past twenty minutes, afraid I’ll wake her.I want her.Not just in the way a man wants a woman. I want all of her. Her laughter. Her temper. Her soft heart. Her overthinking. Her fears. Her strength. I want her in the middle of a crowded street. I want her in silence like this. I want her in the worst chaos and the slowest mornings.But I don’t have her. Not really. Not yet.And every part of me wonders when the hell she’s finally going to walk out of that lifeless marriage and choose us. Choose me.A noise snaps me out of the thought.It starts low—a burst of raised voices from outside the door. Then it spikes.“FIND THEM!” Julian’s voice cuts through the hallway like a blade. Sharp. Frantic. Furious.I freeze.Viola stirs a little but doesn’t wake. I stay completely still, b
Capturing Viola: His Wife Is Mine This moment
Viola McCoy My heart’s pounding as we near the ballroom doors. Susan and Fred are gone. Kendrick too. And I should be relieved, but all I feel is this rush of nerves flooding my chest like carbonation, bubbling, biting, impossible to contain.We’re almost there, just steps away from pretending everything’s normal again, when I reach out and touch Amirah’s arm.“You go in first,” I murmur.She glances at me, confused. Her lashes are still damp. She blinks, then nods and smooths her gown like she’s putting on armor. She disappears through the door.I grab Logan’s hand and tug him down another hallway, away from the light and noise. My heels echo against the marble, click-clack, click-clack, but my steps are shaky. My palms are sweating. There’s an ache forming behind my ribs that feels too much like guilt.I find an unused lounge tucked behind a staircase. The lighting is soft. There’s a velvet armchair in one corner and a low credenza stocked with first aid. Cicily keeps this pl
Capturing Viola: His Wife Is Mine Escape
Logan Reynolds The music swells again. We’re back under the glaring chandeliers, under the eyes of people too bored or too fake to notice that the bride and groom are practically trembling with each step.Susan is clutching Fred’s arm like a lifeline. He’s holding her steady, smiling through gritted teeth, and I can see the muscles in his jaw ticking from across the aisle. Viola walks just ahead of them in a sea-green satin gown, graceful, poised, like she hasn’t just broken into a safe and helped orchestrate an escape.Me? I’m the one trying not to bleed on my tie.We’ve rehearsed this. The plan is simple: walk them up the aisle, make it look like everything is peachy and proper, then slip out one by one. Cake-cutting distraction, kitchen route, maintenance exit. Freedom.And for a moment, it’s working.People rise from their chairs, a murmur of admiration sweeping across the ballroom. Phones flash. Cicily’s voice floats somewhere in the background. No one notices that Fred and S
Capturing Viola: His Wife Is Mine Deserving Freedom
Viola McCoy The air in the room is heavy as I stare down at the blinking keypad.Three attempts left.Julian’s birthday. I whisper the numbers as Logan types them in, his brows furrowed. Zero-three, zero-eight, nineteen-ninety-one.The safe blinks red.Incorrect."Okay," I say, exhaling through my nose"Try her birthday—Cicily’s."He doesn’t hesitate. Zero-four, zero-five, nineteen-sixty-seven.Another shrill beep.Incorrect.“Shit,” he mutters under his breath, stepping back, raking a hand through his hair. I can tell he’s trying not to panic. So am I. We’re one step away from everything falling apart. One more wrong guess and we set off an alert. Cicily will know. She’ll know someone’s been in her room.I squeeze my eyes shut, pushing past the panic curling up my spine. What’s something she’d never expect anyone to guess but would still be important enough to remember?Then Susan’s voice from earlier, comes back to me.“She monitors everything I do.”Of course.I blink open my e
Capturing Viola: His Wife Is Mine Stuck
Viola McCoy Viola McCoy I put on the last piece of jewelry—the gold earrings Julian’s mother gave me on my wedding day. They catch the light as I tuck a loose curl behind my ear. My reflection stares back at me from the vanity mirror. The warm, amber lights of the hotel bathroom halo me in a flattering glow. My skin looks smooth and my eyes are lined just enough. My lips, glossed in a muted berry pink, are parted slightly. There’s a quiet beauty in how still I am.My dress hugs me in all the right places—sleek, satin, pearl white. I breathe in, let the air fill my lungs and steel my nerves. Game face on.Time for Plan A.The hall is already bustling with sound and light. Strings of fairy lights line the high ceilings and a string quartet plays something classical that I don’t recognize. The scent of roses and candles curls through the air. Everything looks stunning. Beautiful. Fake. Just like this whole damn day.I spot Julian’s mother, Cicily, easily talking to a waiter near
