Don T Call Me Wife Novels & Stories

she asked, without picking up her phone. “I don’t have an answer for you, Mariana. You are now my wife, and I don’t want you to work. You don’t need it; just forget about it.” I pulled the chair back and stood up, pretending she wasn’t watching as I walked out of the dining room with my phone in hand. I was looking for a fight, and I thought I knew exactly who to call.

Rather, they were ocean blue currents. “Cassandra, here is your phone.” Was it Wednesday already? I had been so distracted with Jay that I hadn't remembered my weekly internet access and call allowances. I took the phone from Don courteously and stepped back. He still stood there, all 6’3 imposing builds of a man. His eyes were set on me. If he was a more present husband, he would have seen the hitch in my composure. “Won’t you give me some privacy?” Don did not step back. He did not move an inch. “You are my wife. I should be able to stay for the conversations you have on the phone.”

“He’s my husband, and I need to deliver some important documents! Wait until he answers this call. And believe me, you both will be fired.” I wasn’t going to back down. Those two would learn not to look down on anyone. I dialed Damon’s number, and surprisingly even after the fifth attempts, Damon still declined my calls. The embarrassment was eating me up inside. Could they be telling the truth? Or was he just to busy to answer his wife's call? Damon has never ignored my call"

“Don’t go. I don’t want you to go. Callie is my wife, but you are the mother of my child.” Oh God...

he turned to Samuel with a tender smile. "A wedding ceremony will take place tonight between Samuel Petrov and Petrov's precious ward, Kamilla Laskin," Donny stated, taking Kamilla and the entire audience by surprise. ****TBC****

Come back and the company's yours. I took the photos, tore them up one by one, and let the pieces fall. "That girl's gone—naïve, stupid. I'm not her. I'm Elena Arden. And I was never your wife." I pulled a document from my bag and tossed it on the table—a marriage license. "I'm married now. To someone who actually put my name on the certificate. Someone who gave me both a name and a place. "Take a good look. My name's on it. I'm doing great without you. Why would I ever come back? The second you gave Cathryn the title of wife, we were done."

I suddenly remembered something from a few years ago. We were at a meeting with some old-school Don. "A Don's wife should be accommodating. It's normal for a man of his stature to have a mistress," the fat man with the gold chains had said. "Women need to know when to look the other way. Harmony in the family is what's important." I remember Blair's face turning to stone. He shot to his feet and slammed his whiskey glass on the floor. It shattered.

She gestured to the food set on the table. Adrian’s words lingered in her mind, and a smile found its way to her lips. If she could survive this night without chaos, then there was nothing she couldn’t survive—not even after the abusive marriage she had endured before fate brought Ethan her way. “Please excuse me,” Natasha said, smiling as she stood up with her phone clutched in her hand. She could no longer pretend to be happy even though her daughter was still sending signs. She walked toward the parking lot, her hands trembling as she dialed her husband’s number.

The one thing that could destroy my marriage. “Don’t flatter yourself,” I said, ignoring the question. “I don’t know what game you’re trying to play here or how you got my number. But calling at this time of the night isn’t a good idea.” I lowered my voice, whispering into the speaker. “My wife’s home.” He laughed, unbothered. “The more reason I decided to call at this hour,” he said. “Have you forgotten so soon that you’re my married little whore? That you’d rather have me inside you than your wife.”

When I went to get a replacement copy of our marriage certificate, the clerk at the registrar's office told me, "This certificate is a forgery. There's no record of your marriage in the system." "But Michele and I got married four years ago, at St. Mary's Church. We had witnesses..." I steadied my breathing. "Please check again." The clerk sighed and clicked her mouse a few times. "We found a registration for Michele Corleone, but the spouse listed isn't you." My voice shook. "Who's his legal wife?" The clerk answered without looking up. "Rita Greco." Before I heard that name, I'd still been telling myself the system might have made a mistake. But of course it was Rita, Michele's chi