Falling For My Billionaire Husband Mga Nobela at Kwento

Nina woke to the silent hum of machines. Her head is pounding and her throat is dry and scratchy. Her long beautiful lashes blinked open to take in the strange room with white walls and ceiling. So many wires are attached to her hands. Her body feels sour too. Slowly she recalled what happened. Her handsome and extremely rich husband Theodore Morrison, whom she loves more than herself asked her for a divorce. Three days ago...

I mumbled, fidgeting with the hem of my shirt. "Trying?" she repeated. "I can’t see that." She gestured at me like I have every reason to be embarrassed. I honestly didn’t see anything wrong with me. "Your husband is Jack Winehouse, baby girl. One of the hottest billionaires in the world. And you dress like a virgin grandma from the eighties." She moved to sit beside me, gripping my shoulders. "You have to do better." "Better?" I echoed. "What, dress like a bimbo?"

I swung a leg over, both legs on either side of his body straddling him as far as the slit of my dress would let me. He pulled me close, closer, until our bodies ground against each other, our breaths mixing, almost daring our lips to meet. How did my whole life switch up this fast? One minute I’m slinging cocktails downtown, grinding double shifts to scrape tuition, the next I’m straddling a billionaire in his Bentley, the same man who also happens to run the company of my dreams. Oh, I have a lot of thoughts on that. Too many. But none of them were landing.

“This is not the place—” “I decide the place,” he murmured, stepping closer. Her heartbeat pounded. “Adrian, you can’t just show up here—” “You forced my hand.” His voice was soft, deadly. “I warned you not to ignore me.” “My husband is back home,” she hissed. “He’s recovering. I’m not doing this—” “You already did this,” Adrian snapped, for the first time losing control. “You think one miracle erases what we shared? What you gave me? What I—”

She will make their lives miserable. When Oscar was dumbfounded by Aretha's words, he turned to see Roger, who was sitting leisurely in his chair, watching them. This person is a billionaire of AL. Oscar has to rely on Roger a lot. He doesn't want to lose the mountain of gold in front of him. If his daughter Jenny were to marry Roger, then the second half of Oscar's life would be worry-free. Oscar made a serious face at Aretha, raising his voice. "The police will take you away in a while. You will be arrested for abusing the company's public funds and assaulting others. This crime is hard to escape."

Seeing the smile creeping up on Theresa's face, Elizabeth opened her mouth to say something but swallowed her words. "Speak up, keeping things to yourself isn't your style." Theresa, being sensitive, looked at her friend. Elizabeth hesitated for a moment before saying, "It's nothing really, just that I saw your husband with another woman last night, it was probably just a fling…" "Hmm." Theresa's expression remained unchanged after hearing this. But as she was walking back to the hospital room, she accidentally tripped over the IV stand, hitting her big toe on the wheel of the stand, causing her to frown in pain and it took her a while to move again.

My husband is a billionaire. I’m not saying this to brag about how luxurious my daily life is. I just have one question—do all billionaires cheat? Like right now, his head is buried against the 36D breasts of a young woman sitting on his lap. From where I stand, the two of them look like some kind of ultra–postmodern sculpture titled Interrupted Sex. Before his hand could pull that blonde’s dress all the way up to her chest, I pushed open the door. Enough. I’m not some voyeur into multi-partner arrangements—especially not when the man in the scene is my own husband.

known by all. And here this woman was, blushing and shyly declaring to everyone that this married man had spent a fortune casually to make her happy. Wasn't this, in every sense, a public admission of his infidelity? The wealthy crowd didn't seem shocked by his presence here, as if they had long known something I hadn't. So was the bankruptcy a lie? A deception spun by the world to me?

Because in a room like this, where reputation functioned as currency, the idea of imbalance—of a life too heavily tilted toward career, too lacking in visible domestic stability—could quietly undermine everything I had just built. For the briefest second, I felt the weight of it. Then— “My wife simply prefers to keep certain things private,” Sebastian interjected smoothly, stepping forward as though the moment had been waiting for him, his arm sliding around my shoulders with practiced ease. “After all, I’m both handsome and financially successful—it would be a shame if too many people started paying attention.” A ripple of laughter moved through the crowd. “And today,” he continued, drawing

I then lower down my gaze for the reason that his stares are like fire that keeps my body being melted and sore. “Okay,” I replied and held my hands together to control myself to not look at him again. His aura is too powerful for me not to melt. Amidst being in front of a ruthless billionaire who made me as a battered wife, I still think of how handsome and appealing he is. He can rip my—Damn this brain of mine! “Don’t think of that right now, you stupid!” said my mind. Seriously? Daydreaming my husband in front of him? “Your dress is already in your room. Don’t embarass me,” he added shortly and left me dumbfounded with a mouth half-open.