Novel & Cerita Download Novel Hello Wife Pdf

“You lost that right. You lost all right to see me and talk to me. You don’t have any right anymore. I took all that after I divorced you.” “I never had rights, Emily.” His voice dropped. “I don’t need rights, I take what I want. I always have my way.” Her throat tightened, but she didn’t back down. Not this time. “You don’t get to that with me anymore. I’m not your wife anymore Jason.” His gaze snapped back to her, something dangerous flickering in his eyes before it disappeared just as quickly, replaced by amusement. “We’ll see.” Her phone buzzed on the counter, the sound cutting through the room like a blade.

Alina shook her head faintly. “No.” A pause. “I’m just no longer pretending it didn’t hurt.” Silence. Heavy. Then Lucien noticed something else. Ethan was watching from across the room. Waiting. Patient. Interested. Something dark moved instantly through Lucien’s expression again. Possessiveness. Sharp and immediate. “She’s still my wife,” he said suddenly. Alina looked at him for a long second. Then calmly replied, “Only on paper.” That answer hit him harder than expected. Because she said it without emotion.

"What's wrong? You were acting pretty tough just now. Scared already? Tell you what—go pick up that wedding photo, then kneel and beg me for forgiveness. Do that, and I'll have my wife let you off." I forced down the bitterness and anger churning inside me and said, "You said Portia is your wife?" "Of course. The wedding photo's right there—what, you blind?" "But three months ago, I just married Portia myself. Wedding photos? I've got plenty of those on my phone." With that, I pulled out my phone, scrolled through, and displayed my wedding photos with Portia to the gathered crowd. The moment they saw the bride's face clearly, shock spread across their expressions.

Four hundred and fifty k was definitely higher than my expectations from any job at all, especially as an ex-convict. From the way he spoke, Charles definitely knew I had been to jail. Why the hell would he even approach me with a marriage proposal? First off, how did this dude even know me? Something was definitely shady about this. Who the hell got someone to be their pretend wife, especially a stranger? Who the hell offered so much benefits just for being a pretend wife? Definitely not someone I should get involved with. "Thank you for such a wonderful evening, Charles. It's been a while since I last had a good laugh." I don't even bother handing the envelope over to him instead, I droppe

“Wait—is that white truffle?!” She grabbed the pasta plate like a child claiming a favorite toy. Nicholas smirked. “Special food for a special day. You can record everything, you know. Post it. Show the world you’re the beloved wife of Nicholas Anthony.” Rachel rolled her eyes. “You’re not going to say that a third time, right?” “I’m just trying to be a good husband,” he said with a casual shrug. “Then be a good one!” she retorted. Nicholas tilted his head, curious. “How? How does one become a good husband?”

A gentle smile formed on her lips, soft but genuine, as she spoke. "Hi, Jane," she began, her voice smooth yet filled with sincerity. "I know we’ve never met, but I feel like I already know so much about you." She exhaled lightly, glancing at Bentley before looking back at the grave. "I’m Nova… Bentley’s wife. And it makes me so happy to finally visit you."

Elena staggered back slightly, her hand finding the edge of the table for support. “And you thought—what?” she asked, her voice rising despite herself. “That I would just… what? Swallow all of this and dissapear?” “No,” Adrian replied. And for a moment, something flickered in his expression. Something almost like irritation. “I thought you would understand.” The words drained the air from the room. Elena stared at him, disbelief washing over her in waves. “Understand?” she echoed. “Understand that my husband has been living a double life for a year? That he brings another woman into my home and expects me to—what? Accept it?”

Hell, has he ever? Questions hit me one after the other. Who the hell is she? And more importantly… who sent these? Media? A burner account? Is someone trying to stir chaos in my marriage? Two more messages blinked at the bottom of the screen. I swallowed hard, my throat itchy. “It seems your husband has been busy building a new life outside your arranged marriage, Mrs. Davenhall. Maybe it’s time you stop playing the obedient wife.” — Unknown. My heartbeat picked up as I stared at the screen.