Ghost Wife Comic Novels & Stories

] [Sonia Quindt's mystery fiancé disappears—Borevia City in chaos! [Proposal ends in heartbreak—what really happened?] I opened one. There she was—outside the Clerk's Office. White dress. Red roses. Face glowing with hope. The moment I used to dream about. My chest tightened, eyes burning. But no one stood beside her. Caption read: [This morning, CEO Sonia Quindt arrived at the County Clerk's Office in a wedding dress, waiting for her fiancé—who never showed. The scene went viral across Borevia City.]

Those eyes lifted and locked on mime and the glass instantly stopped moving. “The dead has no business with the living, Riven Cole,” he said, voice low enough that only I heard the tremor under it. “We don't tend to corpses here.” I crossed the distance, my boots leaving wet prints on sawdust, then I placed my hands on the counter and said in a low voice, “Then pour one for a ghost.” The room seemed to respond to my words like they heard me, a hush spreading round. I heard a chair scraping the ground and seconds later, someone in the back muttered “traitor”.

"Yes, I'm the witness!" The entire office was suddenly in an uproar, looking at Mara standing at the entrance of the office in bewilderment. "Isn't she Jack's wife? Gosh!" "If his wife says so, it must really be true!" Ian said smugly, "Jack, even your wife reported you. What do you have to say about that?" I was not surprised by Mara's appearance. In my previous life, Mara appeared right in the nick of time, just when the entire office was suspecting me of crimes I did not commit, to give the final fatal blow.

He retired about five years ago, letting his sons manage his company. “What does he want with Benny?” “That’s why Rain paid Amanda a visit.” Ghost shrugged; his tone was calm. “We have to do this the old way. This guy was squeaky clean. He paid his taxes to the last dime, not even a parking ticket.” “Squeaky clean,” I huffed, sliding my phone back into my jeans pocket. “Too fucking clean.” I pursed my lips. “What about the wife? How did she die?” Ghost checked his phone. “Boat accident fifteen years ago.”

the young woman asked. "Ghosts, Love." "Are you telling me that ghosts exist?" whispered Bianca. "I'm a fucking werewolf, Love. Why shouldn't those motherfuckers exist?" snarled Black. _ Those motherfuckers need to die... shit, they're already dead! How do you kill a fucking ghost?" whined Maska, putting his paws over his eyes.

They both were watching him. "Why are we discussing that bitch right now? I bet she's long dead." Ghost said, sounding as nonchalant as he could. It was another way to find out if she was really dead too. "No, son. She's not dead." Don Carianno chuckled. "Not yet." Ghost was lowkey ecstatic and he wasn't sure why. It wasn't supposed to matter if she was fucking dead or not. But his heart seemed to have a mind of its own, getting giddy over the news.

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."

He muttered and smiled a sad one before walking out of the room; then, I went close to my body to look at it intently. "I felt his touch. I felt my father's hand holding mine!" I let out when I noticed the four ghosts who just passed through the wall on my right. They must have seen my father walking into my room. One of my new ghost friends is Ericka, who got here three weeks ago because of a motorbike accident, and Lucinda, a middle-aged woman who got a heart attack a month ago. "Really?" Clinton asked in surprise and examined my physical body closely, and Dylan tried to touch my left barefoot.

And those silver-blue eyes when they locked with mine… I don’t know why, but I still can’t tell if she’s human or a werewolf. 'You know we want her laid out beneath us,' Ghost said. “No. I don’t want her.” 'Oh, but you do... Can’t you feel it? If she was the one giving that blowjob instead of your own hand, you’d have come in seconds.' “Well, that’s your damn fault—with all your twisted fantasies,” I muttered. 'You came back home without getting laid. We’ve got the money. We already tasted Marirose’s virgin pussy—' “I don’t let anyone step on me. You know that.”