The Wife Upstairs

Widower and ex-boss to the Mafia, Zefiro Della Rocca, has an unhealthy fixation on the woman nextdoor. It began as a coincidence, growing into mere curiosity, and soon, it became an itch he couldn't ignore, like a quick fix of crack for an addict. He didn't know her name, but he knew every inch of her skin, how it flushed when she climaxed, her favourite novel and that every night she contemplated suicide. He didn't want to care, despising his rapt fascination of the woman. She was in love with her abusive husband. She was married, bound by a contract to the Bratva's hitman. She was off-limits. But when Zefiro wanted something, it was with an intensity that bordered madness. He obsessed, possessed, owned. There'd be bloodshed if he touched her, but the sight of blood always did fascinate him. **** Her husband was a monster, but he'd saved her from her past and a life of torture. She loved him like every captive grew to love their captor. Everything went to hell, however, when she fought back and ran from home, stumbling into the arms of her devilishly handsome neighbour with a brooding glare. He couldn't stand her, but she needed him, if she was ever going to escape her husband who now hellbent on killing her. Better the devil you know than the angel you don't. She really should have remembered that before hopping into Zefiro's car and letting him whisk her all the way to Italy. If she had, maybe she wouldn't have started an affair with him. He was the only man who touched her right, and the crazy man took no small pains in ensuring he would be the last.

When I'm washing Julian White's pants, I pull out a management fee invoice from one of the pockets. Surprisingly enough, the address is the unit on the floor above my apartment. The thing is, Julian's name is put down as the apartment owner. As I clutch the invoice, I feel my blood turning into ice. Suddenly, I recall the way Julian kept telling me he had overtime shifts to pull over the past six months. Because of that, he often came home past midnight. There were a few times when I realized that his car was still parked in its designated parking slot of the apartment block despite the fact that he had already "gone out". When I asked Julian for the reason, he answered, "The gas prices are very high right now. Taking the subway is more convenient, not to mention I get to save more money for our family's expenses." I used to feel happy about the fact that Julian cared so much about our family. But now, I finally realize that his so-called overtime shifts are just excuses for him to spend time in the unit upstairs. At that moment, I hear the sounds of a key being inserted into the front door's lock. Julian is home. When he notices the invoice in my hand, he takes it from me casually. "Maybe the staff placed it in the wrong mailbox." I nod with a smile. "It's nothing. I'm going to take out the trash first." After leaving the apartment, I head upstairs right away. Once I knock on the door, the woman who came to open the door for me is heavily pregnant. It seems that she's about to give birth.

I believed I had the perfect life. A successful career as a paediatrician. A beautiful home in Riverside Heights. A devoted husband. A son I loved more than anything. Then, I noticed a stranger's perfume on my husband's skin. What begins as a small suspicion quickly unravels into a nightmare. Hidden messages. Secret meetings. Endless lies. And a younger woman who isn't just sharing my husband's bed—she's carrying his child. Marcus Hale swears he never meant to hurt me. He swears our marriage still means something. But every new discovery reveals a deeper betrayal, and soon, I realize the affair is only the beginning. As our lives explode into divorce, custody battles, financial warfare, and public humiliation, I find myself fighting not only for my son and my future but for the woman I used to be. They thought I would break. They thought I would forgive. They thought I would quietly step aside. They were wrong. Because when a woman loses everything she once believed in, she has nothing left to fear. And I am done being their victim. --- The Wife's Reckoning is a gripping psychological domestic thriller about betrayal, revenge, resilience, and the dangerous consequences of underestimating a woman with nothing left to lose.

"Who the hell are you?" "What the hell are you doing in my apartment?" A story between two neighbors and an incident that slowly draws them together *Disclaimer* this story has strong language and violence

My husband, a surgeon, committed a fatal error during surgery. In despair at the loss of his patient's life, he chose the ultimate escape via sleeping pills on the very same night. By the time I reached his side, his ice-cold body was already being carted into the morgue. His death set the beginning of my tragedy. The patient's family, consumed by grief and rage, turned their wrath on me. Their cruel vengeance eventually took my life. As my spirit left me, I came to witness a shocking revelation. My supposedly dead husband was, in truth, alive and well! While I suffered, he enjoyed a life of luxury with his mistress and his new family. He had it all—sleek fancy cars, a stately mansion, and a mountain of wealth. The discovery burned me with rage. So furious I was, I couldn't rest in peace. When I opened my eyes again, I awoke not in the afterlife, but on the day my husband faked his death. I had returned…

THE ABANDONED WIFE Today is our third wedding anniversary. Dinner is ready… but he never came home. Our union was never built on love—just a misunderstanding. Three years, no child, a mother-in-law who never accepted me, a distant husband, and yet… I still love him. Three days ago, I found out I was pregnant. Tonight, I was hoping to tell him the news. But a notification shattered everything: a photo of him, kissing my sister. I recognized the place. I grabbed my keys. I came back alone. I spent the night crying. In the next room, they made love. And I, curled up on a sofa, hit rock bottom. In the morning, his mother woke me with a bucket of ice water. She screamed that I was no longer her daughter-in-law, that I had no place here anymore. So I left soaked, humiliated, shattered. But in my pocket, there is a crumpled piece of paper. A stranger's first name. A gaze that fell on me, last night. The only one that truly saw me. Maybe this is where it all begins.