Forgotten Wife：let The Traitors Kneel Down Novels & Stories

For those who know that sometimes, the greatest kind of love isn’t loud or perfect. It’s the kind that stays. The kind that fights. The kind that waits. From my pen to your heart. Thank you for trusting me with your time, your tears, and your hope. Always writing for you ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ Copyright & Disclaimer © Ernest Brooks. All rights reserved. The Billionaire’s Forgotten Wife is a work of fiction. All characters, events, and settings are either the product of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons (living or dead), real-life events, or experiences is purely coin

A trapdoor lay beneath my feet. Its wooden surface was covered in scratches. Scratches that looked horribly like fingernail marks. The woman leaned closer. “That’s where he put us.” My throat tightened. “Us?” She nodded. Then she whispered the words that shattered whatever remained of my sanity. “You weren’t his second wife, Elena.” Her eyes filled with tears. “You were his first.” The trapdoor rattled beneath us. Something on the other side began to knock. Once. Twice. Three times. The other Elena squeezed my hand.

“I stood by him as a loyal wife. I bore the weight of silence. I endured the coldness of a bed never shared. The looks. The absence. The whispers.” She paused, allowing her sorrow to drip into the crowd like venom. Sympathy rippled through the onlookers. “But today…” her voice sharpened. “Today I can no longer stay silent.” Alaric’s face stiffened. Kael’s heart stopped. “My husband,” she said, turning to the crowd, “has betrayed not just me, but every law of our land. Every tradition. Every virtue we hold dear.” Gasps. She extended a hand and a maid rushed forward, carrying a small box. Amora opened it slowly, theatrically. Inside lay a folded garment, Kael’s livery shirt, and a rolled parch

I cut him off, “who you love, who you want to have a child with, none of that concerns me.” “All I know is that when I was still your wife, you cheated.” “You used the money I made to support another woman and her family.” “And you even wanted her to have a baby, put it under my name, and make me into some pathetic sucker.” With every sentence, his face drained a little more. “I…” His mouth opened, but no sound came out. “Whether you love Emma or not makes no difference to me.” I looked straight at him, word by word. “The moment you betrayed me, you should’ve known this day would come.”

Alaric wearily leaned back on the sofa, closing his eyes to rest. But just as I closed my eyes, in the pitch-black field of vision, the face of my long-lost wife suddenly flashed before me. She was wearing a white dress, with her long hair flowing down. That face, carved by time, unexpectedly became incredibly young. She walked up to him, her lips slightly parted, and her voice, like a seductive melody from hell, said, "Husband, those who betray true love should swallow ten thousand silver needles." He laughed wildly, "Madam really loves to joke."

“Not because I owe you an explanation, but because I demand clarity in my court.” I held up the forged letter from the day before—the one claiming I had been conspiring with traitors. “This paper was slid beneath my chamber door,” I said, raising it high. “No name. No seal. Cowardice wrapped in ink. And yet it reached the mouths of many.” I walked down the stairs again, deliberately. “To those who chose to believe it—remember your titles are not shields,” I said. “Your loyalty is not a gift to be tossed in the air like petals—it is a vow.”

“When the estate called and told him you’d collapsed, he drove out there right away. Since then, no one has seen the butler who was in charge that night.” A chill ran through me. To everyone else, it would sound like devotion. A man who removed anyone who failed his wife. I closed my eyes. This marriage, his man, this name make me suffocating.This man. They wrapped around me like walls. I rested my hand over my belly. If I stayed, this child would grow up inside those walls. I couldn’t allow that. But before I left— I needed his signature to end this marriage. Mafia Marriage From Betrayal to Obsession

“If I told you Claudia actually said the words ‘we need you to pretend to be his wife again,’ would you buy me chocolate cake?” Theresia snorted. Jasmine nearly choked on her tea. “Excuse me, WHAT?” “You’re not joking, right?” “Unfortunately, no,” I said, grabbing the menu. “You… you have to play wife again?” Jasmine repeated, like she needed confirmation that I was actually living inside a soap opera plot and not real life. “Yup. Full package. Fancy house, missing memories, hot husband who forgot he used to be a bastard.” Theresia leaned back in her chair, arms crossed. “Hold up. Wait. So he forgot literally everything, but the part that stuck was you… as his wife?”

“Grace, we need to get you to a hospital, we will talk about this later…” “They’re the traitors, Kiara, my husband and Natasha are the traitors…”

one of the maids pleaded, tears streaming down her cheeks. The other maid nodded vigorously in agreement, her voice barely audible as she begged forgiveness. They knelt, continuously bowing their heads, hoping Jared would show mercy. After all, they knew they had committed a grave mistake, knowing the price they would pay for their brash actions. The room fell silent as Jared's stern gaze lingered on the trembling maids. His expression was unyielding despite their pleas, and his judgment was final. "Let me clarify this to both of you; Julia is my only wife. She's the only match for me."