Novel & Cerita Freida Mcfadden The Perfect Son

At sixty-five, I got served divorce papers. The same day, my husband Sebastian — decked out in his wedding suit, of all things — popped a handful of sleeping pills in a suicide attempt. For years, we were the perfect couple. The kind of pair neighbors whispered about with envy. I couldn't wrap my head around it. The divorce. The pills. None of it made sense. Not until I found the photo and letter in his pocket.

In our five years of marriage, I had given in to my husband, John, for a grand total of three times. The first time was during my pregnancy. He had taken his ex-girlfriend Stacy, who had once taken three bullets for him, back home and cared for her. When I became angry, he immediately sent her away once she recovered. The second time was after childbirth, when I was ready to return to work. To repay a favor, he gave the position I had worked years for to Stacy. He said it was so I could rest well. I looked at my son, who needed me, and I conceded. The third time was during our son’s birthday. In front of the entire company, he had announced that Stacy was his wife, all so she could establish herself in the company. I gave him two choices: divorce or send her away. Without hesitation, he chose the latter and immediately sent her abroad. The fourth time was when my father suddenly had a heart attack and urgently needed surgery. He disappeared again. I searched everywhere for him to cover the hospital expenses, and I finally discovered that he had gone to the airport to pick up a pregnant Stacy, who was returning to the country. Because of that, my father missed the best chance for treatment and died. I was done giving in. I disguised the divorce agreement as our son’s medical bill and tricked him into signing it. No compensation or apology would matter. I did not wish to have him near my son or myself again.

The school boxing match. My son Leo’s gloves were lined with broken glass. I carried him from the ring. Blood was everywhere, staining the canvas crimson. And Isabella, the monster behind it all, just stood there smirking. A snake's smile. She dragged her son over, then slapped me. Hard. Again and again. She tried to force me to my knees. "Some gutter trash like you… thinks he can challenge the Falcone heir? This is what happens. Believe me, I say the word, and you disappear. Poof." I just raised an eyebrow. The Falcone family has one heir this generation. My son, Leo. So when did a Falcone become gutter trash? I wiped the blood from my lip. I called the Don—the man my father made. "I hear the Falcone family has a new heir." Let's see who has the nerve to touch the old Don's grandson.

"You make it sound like I did something wrong?" Niklaus says with a sly smile before stepping back to avoid the punch I swing at him. His hand grabs my wrist tightly before he spins and presses me back on his desk, with my upper body facing him. His hips press against my parted legs. "Really...Luci, I missed you like crazy. How can you say such harsh things to me?" He says with a pout. Wait…wait, what is that pressing against me? "You crazy b*stard." I all but scream the words, but the manic excitement in his eyes doesn't waver as he forces his hips against me. Eight years ago, novice recruit Lucien Sinclair had the perfect partner and brother-in-law anyone could ask for; everything vanished in the blink of an eye when the 'perfect' man, Niklaus Heinrich, turned out to be the perfect devil, an arms dealer masquerading as the perfect CEO to the largest company in Ferndale. What happens when the two are forced to work together again? {This is a stand-alone book}

Paige got pregnant by a bad boy in high school. Two years later, after many sacrifices and without having any contact other than phone calls, she and the father of her child reunite. Can they live together for the sake of their shared child? Can the bad boy not be so bad?

“Grandfather, please don't marry me off to this waste of space. He is just a lowlife that is sick, carrying diseases around, and being gross!” Ava said, getting more and more enraged with each word coming from her mouth. “That's enough! Ava, stop that right now!” Mrs. Taylor said. “Don’t order your grandfather!” “If you insist on giving Ava to me, I would walk out of here now and never look back. A woman like her is not something that interests me.” Zane said, his voice steady as he met the old man's eyes, his words pissing Ava and her parents off.

"I was forced to marry a billionaire to save my family— but I fell in love with his son… and now I’m carrying his child." Born into poverty, Celine always dreamed of a better life. But that dream took a twisted turn when her parents sold her off to an aging billionaire in exchange for his influence to secure a coveted political position. Her heart belonged to another—her childhood sweetheart, whom she was engaged to marry. Yet her parents' disapproval shattered her plans, forcing her to sacrifice her happiness for their ambition. Reluctantly, Celine moved into the opulent mansion of her new husband, a man decades older and emotionally distant. While she struggled to adapt, fate took an unexpected turn when she crossed paths with his son, Jackson—a man whose charm and rebellious nature pulled her into a forbidden romance. Despite the guilt and turmoil, Celine fell deeply for Jackson, succumbing to a passion that left her pregnant with his child. But Jackson's true nature soon emerged. Behind his magnetic allure was a womanizer whose actions crushed the very bond they shared. Heartbroken and betrayed, Celine made a drastic decision: Born Would the billionaire forgive her betrayal? Or would Celine's s secret ignite a storm that would destroy the fragile peace she had just begun to find?

“He’s not yours,” I said, each word slicing through him like glass. Valentine stared at me, stunned, like I’d slapped him. Maybe I should’ve. That would’ve been easier than this. I thought I’d buried the past the day I ran—pregnant, heartbroken, and alone. Valentine Hale was the love of my life… until he shattered it. He never knew I was carrying his child. He never tried to find me. I raised our son alone. But fate doesn’t forget. Now I’m back in the one place I swore I’d never return to. And Valentine? He’s here. He’s looking at me like he still feels it. Valentine- She was human. Off-limits. But I touched her anyway. Loved her. Marked her. Then I walked away before the pack could find out. Before I destroyed us both. But now, Vivian’s back—with a kid who smells like me. But now I bear a secret, a curse from my father the previous alpha and I cannot risk their lives. I need to protect them. I need them. I feel it in my blood. He’s mine. She’s mine. They both always were.

It was the night of my husband's and my third anniversary, and I had gotten home early. I caught him in bed with another woman—for the tenth time. But unlike the previous times, I did not throw a tantrum. I even closed the door to the master bedroom quietly, not wanting to interrupt. In Scott Jameson's eyes, I had no choice but to tolerate his cheating because I became Mrs. Jameson by getting pregnant with his child. Three months later, he flung divorce papers at me. "My young lover wants me to give her a home and to bear my son. Sign the papers." I looked into his cold, distant eyes and said with conviction, "All right. All I want is custody of our son. I don't want a cent of the Jamesons' money." The court proceedings were difficult, and I was accused of being mentally unstable. Many people made fun of me for not knowing my place. All of Cloverton was waiting for me to humiliate myself, counting the seconds until a nobody like me succumbed to desperation. However, I fought the case with everything I had. Eventually, I was finally able to leave with my son. No one knew that Scott suffered from a serious case of asthenozoospermia. His sperm were completely useless. No other woman could have Scott's baby except me, as I happened to be unusually fertile. My son would be the only heir to the Jameson family legacy.

On Christmas Eve, my six-year-old, Yule, was dying from cancer, and all he wanted was a gift from his dad dressed as Santa. I called Peter, my husband, begging him to come. His reply? "Can you stop blowing up my phone? I don't have time for this! I'm helping Tracey find Puffy. Do you know how upset she is?" Oh, Tracey. His first love. And Puffy? Her dog. I told him Yule might not make it through the night. His response? A straight-up dagger: "Don't act like this isn't your fault, Freya. If Yule hadn't kicked Puffy, none of this would've happened. Tomorrow, make sure he apologizes to Tracey." Then he hung up. That night, I sat with Yule, crying as I helped him celebrate his last Christmas. By morning, Peter's social medias were still full of posts about that freaking dog. Mine? Yule's obituary. Ten years of marriage, gone.