Decieve My Husband secret Lies

Lying and holding secrets comes to us naturally, as natural as breathing and looking on either side of the road before crossing. We all do it to protect ourselves because sometimes the truth can hurt us.Some are harmless little white lies, but some secrets hide horrible things. Those lies will always come haunting those who seek to keep their lips sealed. Follow Caroline, Charlotte, Chloe, and Caleb's journey, as their life is turned upside down as they fight to keep their lips sealed about the murder they accidentally committed.Everyone keeps secrets. Everyone lies. You better make sure no one saw what you've done before making up your lies because all it takes is one person with the truth on their lips for your life to be destroyed.

Anastacia Solei Alcaraz, a devoted daughter and caring sister, found herself unexpectedly thrust into a whirlwind of change. Growing up in modest circumstances, she took on the responsibility of supporting her family after her father's passing. However, fate took an unexpected turn when she became a personal assistant to a wealthy businessman, leading to an unforeseen marriage after a fateful night. Now faced with the repercussions of a spontaneous wedding and a life-altering mistake, Anastacia grapples with the question of whether love and commitment can overcome the chaos that has suddenly entered her carefully built world.

I accidentally saw a notification pop up on my husband’s phone saying that an automatic transfer had been completed when I was using it for navigation. Immediately after that, his ex-girlfriend, Wanda Blake, sent him a message on WhatsApp: [I’ve received this month’s 10,000 dollars for child support. Thank you, Koah. I don't know what I would have done without you.] I froze. “Child support? “Koah, you told me that the money you send every month was for medical expenses for your mother’s treatment!” Koah Quinn’s expression stiffened as he explained, “Honey, don’t misunderstand. I just felt that life has become really hard for her because she’s a woman raising a child on her own. Her ex-husband refuses to pay child support, so I wanted to help her out…” I touched the old watch on my wrist. The one I had not replaced in years to save money, and felt extremely disappointed. “Your monthly salary is only 6,000 dollars. Where did you get so much money to send her?” He was silent for some time before finally admitting. “I used the money we had set aside for the new house’s downpayment.” I was stunned. He had taken the money my parents had scrimped and saved for decades for me as downpayment for a home and then transferred it to his ex-girlfriend as child support.

(R18) - Warning: This book contains explicit sexual scenes. Rebecca Grey, an up and coming journalist lands one of her biggest stories yet. She is to cover the series of murder cases that is engulfing the Silverman Corp. There she meets the enigmatic CEO, William Silverman himself. He intrigues her to no end, seducing her body and soul. As as Rebecca gets pulled deeper and deeper into the life of the sensual billionaire, she realizes that he is hiding something from her. Something dark and dangerous. Even worse, the murderer seems to have gotten a whiff of her investigation and is set to stop her once and for all. Together with John Grant, her long-time friend, admirer and protector, they unravel the mystery surrounding the murders before it is too late.

Shortly after we said "I do," the Family sent my husband, Dario, down to the Mexican border. He told me it was a meat grinder down there—cartel territory. where guys were zipped into body bags every day. He said he had to go—to expand the territory, for the glory of the Family. He claimed it was too dangerous and that his enemies would paint a target on my back, so he wouldn't take me with him. I believed him. I stayed behind in his old, rot-infested house in New Jersey, taking care of his bitter, spiteful parents. I spent my days and nights in the Family's moldy laundromat, washing bills stained with blood. He told me he sent every dime he made down there to the widow of a brother who took a bullet for him. He asked me to be understanding. I never complained. Day after day, I pressed expensive suits in that humid laundromat, waiting for him to come home. It wasn't until the eighth year that a mobster came back drunk. When I asked about Dario, he froze, then sneered at me through a haze of alcohol. "Dario? Are you kidding? He’s been a King in Manhattan for years. He’s the youngest Underboss of the Corleone family." I stood frozen, the iron in my hand burning a hole right through a shirt. "And he got married seven years ago. Biggest cathedral in New Jersey. Half the mob was there to toast the groom..." He pulled a crumpled photo from his leather jacket. Snuggled up against my husband was a woman in a high-end couture gown—the very same "poor, widowed sister-in-law" he had told me about. The next day, I contacted a fixer who specialized in fake IDs. On the application for a one-way ticket to Europe—a ticket to vanish off the face of the earth—I filled in the fake name I had prepared long ago. He trapped me for seven years with a sham marriage. From now on, I’d be done with this damn loyalty.

At sixty-five, I got served divorce papers. The same day, my husband Sebastian — decked out in his wedding suit, of all things — popped a handful of sleeping pills in a suicide attempt. For years, we were the perfect couple. The kind of pair neighbors whispered about with envy. I couldn't wrap my head around it. The divorce. The pills. None of it made sense. Not until I found the photo and letter in his pocket.