Novel & Cerita Esposa Del Fantasma

If she faced criminal charges, she would lose everything. Panic took over, and she blurted out, “I’m Wendy! You can’t arrest me!” Everyone froze, then burst into laughter. “Are you insane? She’s dead. You dare impersonate her?” She screamed wildly, “I am Wendy! I am not dead! You know me! Tell them! I am your wife!” All eyes turned to me. I said calmly, “You are Stacy. My wife died long ago. You even handled the cremation yourself.”

the woman shouted, trying to break free from the butler who was blocking her entry. Patrícia stepped forward, positioning herself in front of her with a firm look. “What do you want here?” she asked, studying the stranger. The woman looked her up and down, her face filled with confusion and disbelief. “Who are you? Rafael’s girlfriend?” Patrícia lifted her chin slightly before answering firmly. “No. I am Augusto Avelar’s wife.” Silence fell between them. The woman’s expression turned to shock and disbelief, her eyes widening as if she had just heard something impossible.

As I was rummaging through the trash for leftovers, my wife, who had died three years ago, suddenly showed up. She stepped out of the Voyce and looked down at me from above. “Honey, you really did pass my test.” I was holding some moldy stale bread. I stared at her in bewilderment. It turned out that three years ago, at a class reunion, the school heartthrob she had once dated had suggested it. “I wanted to see if your love is real.”

The rich assent made her pin a name to it immediately. “Rafaela Santos.” She regarded the uninvited guest with a feigned boldness that amused Rafaela, who could tell from her voice alone that she was scared. “No importa cómo te dirijas a mí, pero lo cierto es que soy la esposa de Pablo. Todavía me eligió a mí antes que a tu culo de zorra. (It doesn't matter how you address me, but the fact remains that I am Pablo's wife. He still chose me over your slutty ass.”

I choked out, a ragged, bloody whisper escaping my lips. "You came back..." The figure leaned down, hovering over my broken body. But as I stared closer, desperate to finally see the face that had haunted my waking nightmares, the beautiful illusion violently shattered. The soft, yielding features of my ghost mate began to warp. They shifted, snapping brutally into sharp, terrifying clarity. The face staring down at me wasn't my wild Omega. It was Valeria. My icy, untouchable contract wife. Her silver eyes were wide, cold, and entirely apathetic.

To settle my family's debt, I was forced to marry the comatose heir of a mafia family. On our wedding night, as I washed his body, a low, lazy chuckle echoed in my ear. "Enjoying the view?" I glanced up, meeting the gaze of my comatose husband's ghost. "He'll do." While everyone was pitying my fate as a young widow, I was striking a deal with my new husband's ghost. "Sign it. Now."

Either way, neither of them spoke a single word until the elevator doors opened. Even though Venice was already aware that their guest was her stepsister, she could not help but grit her teeth and look at her with contempt. Grayson, on the other hand, could not take his eyes off of Mavis, questioning himself if his eyes were playing tricks on him. The woman was wearing a simple spaghetti-strapped faint blue summer dress with her long hair let loose behind her. Looking at her felt like watching spring come to life. What caught him off guard was the fact that she seemed to be the exact copy of his ex-wife, but simply the carefree version of her.

I forced a smile on my face wanting to look like a polite and respectful wife to Jarrod's friend, “Sir, I really hate to bother you but you're Cameron Petals, my husband, Jarrod Smith best friend right?” His eyes settled on the ground and he let out a sigh, “No” The smile on my face disappeared and I quickly put a leg inside his house when I noticed he was about to close the door. “Sir, I know you're my husband's best friend. I.. don't know why you're denying it though but you must've heard Jarrod Smith talk about me, I'm his wife Bella and recently something really big happened and he wants to divorce-” “-Leave” he interupted giving me a stern look.

At first, it was just a normal meeting, though I couldn't tell what was normal about a divorced couple seated at the same place in the middle of the night. We found ourselves in my room, and before you know, Mason's lips were on mine. He fucked me in every position I could imagine. My cheeks reddened as he shook hands with me with a sly smile on his lips. He spends more time with me than he does with his fiancée. He was head over heels for me. I knew this, but it wasn't the part I wanted yet. I was still thinking about what to do with the information I had on Julia and her fake pregnancy.

I’m getting married, and not married to just anybody—I’m getting married to Cameron Stanton, the man of my dreams—the man of every woman’s dreams. How did I ever score this? I thought I was simply getting a slutty, hot hookup in Vegas and I somehow ended up pregnant... to someone who turned out to be the perfect male specimen. What were the chances? How in the heck has everything that was once so wrong turned out to be so right?