Edward Holcroft Wife Novels & Stories

"Do they regret it?" "I don't know. That's what we'd have to find out." She thought about that for a minute. Then she said, "Can we find out together?" Louis looked at me. I nodded. "Together," he said. The next day, Louis started digging. Private investigators. Old records. It didn't take long to find them. Edward and Margaret Croft. Still alive. Still in the city. In a huge house in the old part of town, the part with mansions and gates and gardens you couldn't see into.

Selene Hawthorne moved through the crowd like a storm contained within elegance — untouchable, graceful, and utterly oblivious to the chaos she’d already sown inside me. Her husband, Edward Hawthorne, was a master of appearances. The perfect smile, the steady handshake, the calm confidence that made him untouchable. He was Edward Hawthorne — philanthropist, elite businessman, my richest client — and he was about to be my undoing. I smiled at him, smooth and controlled, concealing the storm beneath my skin. Every instinct screamed to keep my distance, to maintain the lines I had spent years drawing. And yet, the moment our eyes met — hers and mine — a quiet war began, silent but undeniable. D

MEANWHILE IN ASHFORD BAY: The neighbouring City close to Cedarville. "Sign it, Abigail." The envelope landed on the breakfast table with the finality of a coffin lid slamming shut. Abigail's fingers froze around her coffee mug, steam rising between her and the man she had called husband for three years. Three years of separate rooms. Three years of loving someone made of ice. Grey Knight, her supposed husband didn't even look at her. He stood by the floor-to-ceiling windows, hands in his pockets, watching Ashford Bay's skyline like it belonged to him. In many ways, it did. But somehow she didn't belong to him.

Ralph sucked Rara’s bottom lip between his teeth as his hands strayed from her hips to the upper part of her thighs and forcibly pulled them apart. "Understand something," Ralph growled lowly against her lips. "You’re now our wife, no longer a daughter or sister but ‘ours’.” As one hand held her thigh, the other crept one hand held her thigh, the other crept up her flat stomach and possessively grabbed her plump bare breast. "I did you a favour. Your whore of a sister was eventually going to betray you, topolìno. This world is fucking selfish, it wouldn’t think twice before eating you up, then why are you feeling remorse for a wench who was ready to kill you to save her skin." Ralph continue

A week ago, the news broke that I'd filed a lawsuit against my wife of more than 20 years, Hazel Cooper, the woman who had shared my bed and my life for over half my adulthood. From that moment on, I became the neighborhood's favorite villain. Everyone called me the heartless man who had climbed his way to success and abandoned his wife and child without remorse. In their eyes, Hazel was flawless. She'd married me when I was poor and struggling. She never complained, even when life was hard. She cared for my sickly mother until her final days. She raised our son almost entirely on her own and turned him into a top student, the kind every family boasted about.

“I want to divorce my husband and I need help with my son.” There goes that soft look from Preston. His hand was formed into a fist, ready to throw a punch at someone. Like how a brother would take his sister’s pain. “I’ll do the best for you, Hyacinth. Don’t worry. Elias will stay with you.” “I’m not talking about Elias.” She handed Preston the envelope that she had been holding onto since she walked inside the office. “I’m talking about the son I had from my previous marriage.” “Y-you… What do you mean?”

So I grabbed my mug, the two last cupcakes and followed him down the hallway to the inner sanctum of the Blotter men. I loved every minute of that sleepless night, while Edward told me about his family, especially how he’d fallen in love with his wife at first sight, and how he’d done everything to get her attention, until she finally said yes to marrying him. The Blotter Foundation web had a section of family pictures, and Edward showed me his wife and two sons, one of them Joseph’s father. Sunrise found me still there, cuddling in an armchair, smiling and nodding to what Edward said. When the big old clock in the corner tolled to seven, I decided to go back upstairs to take a shower. Frida

“He wanted to make sure you had all the information to make an informed decision.” “He’s always been so kind.” Elena’s smile is soft, touched. “Even after all these years. Some friendships just endure, don’t they?” “They do.” Chloe glances at me, and the look lasts half a second too long. “Mr. Hawthorne speaks very highly of you, Mrs. Ashcroft. He seems quite concerned about your well-being.” “We have a long history.” Elena is absorbed in the documents now, flipping through pages of medical jargon and facility descriptions. “He was my first love, actually. Before I married Dominic.”

“I was shot by Clara… Clara Rothwell. She is not who the world thinks she is. People call her a wife, a social figure… but she is a manipulator, a seducer, something far worse than what people imagine.” Adrian gave a faint expression of amusement at that, his lips curving slightly as he leaned back into the chair. “This is getting interesting,” he said quietly. “Continue.” Edward coughed lightly before a glass of water was placed near him, which he took after a brief hesitation. His hand trembled slightly as he drank, then lowered it carefully before continuing again. “It started years ago,” he said slowly, “when my twin brother brought her home and introduced her as his wife.”

She walked up to a table and took a seat beside a couple in their late fifties. “I haven't seen Mr Sullivan around,” His wife said while looking around. “Richard Sullivan?” The wife nodded. “Yes, he'll be given a speech but why isn't he around yet?” “Probably he's in any of the rooms upstairs. I want to use the restroom, I'll be right back.” The husband said and pecked his wife's cheek before heading to the restroom.