Damian Priest Wife Novels & Stories

I grabbed his neck, “you don’t have that fucking right” “You do realize she was my wife?” Damian flared up, “and yes, we have a whole lot of things to actually talk about. She was mine to begin with and I hate the fact that she is with you. I want my woman back, I want her. She was pregnant for me—she— “Did you bother to look at her?” I flared up, my wolf threatening to burst out of me, “for three fucking years, you didn’t bother to look at her and when another man does, you can’t help it but feel upset?”

He was determined to spend the rest of his life making it up to me. Three days later, that hope was destroyed. I married Justin. When Damian stormed into the church, the priest had just finished with the vows. In my wedding gown, and with a serene smile on my face, I looked into Justin’s eyes and said, “I do.” “No! Claire! You can’t marry him!” A searing pain shot through Damian’s chest. He fell to his knees on the crimson carpet. The once-proud, cold-blooded Don was now reduced to a pitiful figure, like a stray dog left out in the rain.

“Estelle, what are you doing now?” I shook my head in panic and pointed at Vivian. “Damien, don’t believe her. That baby’s not even yours...” Vivian wailed and lunged toward the wall as if to slam her head against it. “Damien, please! Just let me die! After being talked to like that, how can I go on? I’m your legal wife, and yet she says those things just to humiliate me…” Damien panicked and caught her, holding her tight in his arms.

"Mr. Damian, Elena’s happiness has nothing to do with you. If you set foot on this soil again, I’ll ensure you vanish into the high seas." Damian was hauled out like a bag of trash. Through the layers of my white veil, I took one last look at that slumped, broken figure before turning back to my groom. Two years later, under the Sicilian sun, I held my child in my arms. Cyril wrapped his arms around us, providing a sense of security I hadn't felt in eight years in Manhattan. I heard rumors that Damian had gone into a death spiral back in New York. He’d squandered his empire on drink, hiding away in a ruin filled with the shredded remains of our old photos, talking to ghosts.

I interrupted her and continued, “Wendy, Damiano is dead. I’m as torn up about it as you are. You’ve lost your adoptive brother, but I’ve lost my fiance on what should’ve been my wedding day.” At this, the men all sighed. I moved to touch Wendy’s belly. “How many months along are you now?” Wendy was a little dazed, and she carelessly answered, “Eight months.” Realizing that she had made a mistake, she quickly covered her mouth. Eight months ago, Damiano had been attacked. While I tried to save him, I got shot in the abdomen and lost the ability to carry children. I found everything terribly laughable. “Who’s the father? Once Damiano’s funeral is over, I’ll throw you a wedding.”

It was a lot grander than the two-story house owned by the richest family back in the village. Damian stepped forward and began heading toward the entrance of the building. "Hold it! What's your business here?" The security guard at the entrance stepped forward and blocked his path. Damian smiled and pointed up at the building. "I'm here to find my future wife. She works here." Taken aback, the security guard gave Damian a once-over. With how shabbily dressed he was, he looked like a country bumpkin. "What's your future wife's name?" "Her name is Christine Spencer," Damian replied with a grin.

When Damian looked at me when his father called me a common assistant, I had some tiny hope that he would at least defend me, that there was nothing common about me, that he saw great potential in me as he always tells me but the name calling did not seem to even bother him. Damian’s father is about to reply when the woman who I now recognize as Sharon Stone, the heiress to the Stone empire gently places her hand on the old man’s shoulder. “Uncle, stop it. You will only piss hubby off by arguing with him,” she smiles broadly at Damian before she rolls her eyes at me. “If he says do not interfere, then do not.” Hubby? So she is Damian’s wife….. They are indeed the perfect power couple. Both b

Damian explained so completely that the legendary wizard finally spoke again after a long sigh. "You really suck, Damian. It wasn't Nadlyn who did this, it was your own wife," the legendary witch said, causing Damian to roll his eyes in disbelief? "Seriously? Are you saying my wife is Rachel?" asked Damian, who looked incredulous from the start. The legendary witch let out an annoyed sigh as she turned her gaze in another direction. "Yes, who else could your beloved wife be?"

For eight years, Damian Caruso kept me as his secret wife. I handled his family's lawsuits, protected his empire, and raised the son he refused to acknowledge in public. Ethan wasn't even allowed to call him Dad when anyone else was around. I told myself Damian had his reasons. Until our son's seventh birthday. Damian promised he would come home. Ethan waited beside an untouched birthday cake until nearly midnight. Damian never showed. Because Sofia Bellini—the childhood friend everyone already treated as Damian's real woman—had the same birthday. And Damian had chosen hers. That night, I stopped waiting. I signed the divorce papers. The next morning, Damian was in such a hurry to rescue Sof

“ Thank you mr Karlo . “ said Damian . “ Call me father ! “ said mr Karlo . “ Thank you father . “ said Damian with a smile . “ Good boy ! “ said mr Karlo smiling then went back and sat next to madam Laura . Everyone kept silent as the priest opened the book and read the prayers . “ Will you Damian Wright take sir Antonio as your husband , love him , be loyal to him , cherish him through sickened and poverty till death parts you ? “ said the priest . “ I do ! “ said Damian . “ Will youAntonio Landar take sir Damian as your husband , love him , be loyal to him , cherish him through sickened and poverty till death parts you ? “ said the priest .