Forgotten Wife：let The Traitors Kneel Down Novels & Stories

His eyebrow lifted. "You don't remember?" "Remember what?" His other eyebrow lifted, that expression alone told me I had done something. Something bad, something humiliating and something I was apparently the only person unfortunate enough to have forgotten. I looked away and squeezed my eyes shut. Think...think, Lena. What happened last night? The horror movie. The wine. The bedroom and Salvatore. I tried to reconstruct the evening piece by piece. At first, there was nothing. Then— "Aren't you my husband?"

I ignored her pleas, watching as the cane landed on a different part of her thigh, distributing the welts until it had to come back to the previous points. "Please, sir. Oh lord, I can’t take this anymore. I am your wife, you own me, I belong to you." "Oh, now I’m you're my wife." Another strike landed on her thigh and she screamed to the heavens. "I'm your wife, forever. I’m sorry, so so so sorry, sorry." "You still don't understand the meaning of the word sorry." I spat out and pulled the lever off, granting her a little rest, then pulled it back on.

“And stop fucking talking when I’m speaking. Do as you’re told.” “I’m not going anywhere,” I said, voice steadier than I felt. “This is my room too.” Zeden’s head snapped toward me. “Your room? Funny. I don’t remember giving a traitor any rights in my house.” “Do you not remember what you told me before all this?” I stepped closer, refusing to back down. “You said I shouldn’t even step foot in the kitchen anymore. That I didn’t know how to cook, that I was useless at it, and you wanted me as far from domestic shit as possible. You made me your wife, Zeden. Not your maid. And I’m not playing wife — I am your wife. The mother of your children. It’s a fucking shame you suddenly can’t remember t

As I started the engine and looked at Sienna sitting beside me, I was really thankful. After all the problems that happened during those weeks, I began to think that I am going to lose my wife. But this morning, Sienna is still here beside me, willing to smile and even willing to give me another chance. I tightened my grip on the steering wheel lightly. Thanks, Sienna. I promised myself that I am going to make everything better. However, for some reason, I couldn't help but think about Wilona. I can't forget about what happened on that day. From the hotel, to waking up forgetting everything, to the accusation from Wilona, even up to the money I promised to her all flashed back in front of my

“Whatever you thought this was, it ended years ago.” Her eyes flickered, but she tilted her head, feigning calm. “You can’t erase history. You and I—” “There is no you and me,” I cut in, voice steel. I wanted every soul in that room to hear. “The only history that matters to me is the family I’ve chosen—Lena. Eliana. They’re mine. They always will be.” The ripple of whispers spread like wildfire. Clara’s mask cracked, fury flaring in her eyes. “Do you have any idea how pathetic you sound, clinging to a woman who’ll never understand you?”

“I died, Loretta. I watched my life, my love, my very existence, stolen from me. I will not make that mistake again. This time, I will be the one pulling the strings. And Ivy… she will learn that the true cost of betrayal is not just death, but utter, absolute ruin.” She ended the call, the phone feeling light in her hand now. The fear that had gripped her at the hospital had transformed into something else entirely: a cold, focused power. She had stared death in the face, twice, and emerged stronger. She understood the shifting currents of fate now. And she would use that understanding to carve out her own destiny, and to deliver a retribution so precise, so devastating, that it would echo

“No, I’m not kneeling for you.” His expression didn’t change. “I won’t ask again.” “You are disobeying me in front of my people,” His voice was low but there was menace in each word as he continued, “This won’t go unpunished.” A flash of his smile as he added, this time for the benefit of our audience, “This is an old tradition,” His voice dropped to a dramatic cadence, low and mocking, “Long before modern laws softened the familia, a wife would show her loyalty by kneeling at her husband’s feet. A sign of obedience.” I shook my head, my fingers curling into fists. “I won’t. I won’t be your wife and neither will I obey you.”

He just watched the pieces of the vase settle on the wall and then the floor. "You're not a traitor," he said quietly. "I'm a Blackthorne's wife, Lucian! No matter how many papers I sign, no matter how many people I train with... I am the woman he chose. And he’s never going to let me forget it." I slumped against the wall, sliding down until I was sitting on the floor, surrounded by the shards of my own life. I buried my face in my hands and finally, truly, let the devastation win.

"If you want to see miracles, you have to stay the course. That's what this whole day is about." I gritted my teeth and followed her as we went and took a seat. A woman who looked older, the pastor's wife—came to the front of the room after people had finished eating. She introduced herself and then started going on about this ridiculous subject of how she treats her husband, how her husband loves her, and how her husband loves their children. Basically how she submits/slave to her husband. Then she called up her two daughters, who were dressed like... and she started telling us how we were supposed to treat our children like we were in 1912.

The woman who had smiled at me had wanted me utterly destroyed. "You took my place," Irina screamed, her voice cracking with hysterical jealousy. She strained toward me, her face contorted in rage. "I am the alliance. I am supposed to be his wife. You are a mute, pathetic little whore."