Novel & Cerita He Lied She Believed

I've had a crush on my fiancée for years, and we're finally about to get married. Yet I'm willing to jump off a building just to avoid marrying her—all because I've been reborn. In my past life, she and I were married for over two decades. We were the perfect couple in everyone's eyes. However, the fairy tale came to an abrupt end on our 25th wedding anniversary. She took her own life, and she did it with her true love. As I kneeled before her grave, I asked, "Did you regret marrying me?" I knew I wouldn't hear her response, so I answered myself. "I regret marrying you." When I open my eyes again, I find myself back to before the wedding happens. I decide to run away. This time, I want us to become nothing but estranged acquaintances. To my surprise, she comes to me, looking like she's terminally ill. She says, "I've never regretted marrying you. Whether in this lifetime or the past, you're the only one I've ever wanted to marry."

One month before my wedding to my boyfriend, he announced he wanted to have a child with his "first love." I refused, but he brought it up every single day. Two weeks before the ceremony, I received a prenatal checkup report. That’s when I discovered his so-called "first love" was already nearly a month pregnant. It turned out he’d never intended to seek my consent at all. In that moment, years of affection evaporated like smoke. So, I canceled the wedding, destroyed every trace of our memories, and on what should have been our wedding day, I walked into a closed-off research lab. From then on, he meant nothing to me.

Valerie Clark’s hides her identity and gets married to Charles. She secretly helps him grow his business and after he reached a little bit of fame, he ask for divorce and wishes to g we married to his ex lover. She accepts and promises to make him pay. How will Charles reaction be when he finds out that his ex wife is the Jewelry queen and also the heiress of the Clark group.

My CEO wife insists on taking a young, fresh intern under her wing. She wants to train him personally. She says to me, "Don't overthink this. I just value his potential." She's always been stern and stoic, but she starts dressing in pink and pulling her hair back in high ponytails. On our third wedding anniversary, she and the intern even willfully disappear for 48 hours. When others are searching for her like mad, she shares photos of her riding a carousel and holding cotton candy. She captions them, "I found the purest of joys in the most joyful of places—all because of you!" Our company loses a huge project because of this, and I lose my wife. I slip a divorce agreement between the pages of the intern's application to become a permanent staff member. My wife signs it without even looking and says, "Knowing what Elliot can do, he's more than capable of carrying out the role of a vice president." I calmly hand her my resignation. "You're right. That's why I'll make way for him."

To help my surgeon husband with his erectile dysfunction, I made an appointment with an expert six months in advance. But as the day approached, Isiah Coleman canceled it without explanation. Just as I was about to call him to demand answers, I spotted a post from his female friend on her social media. My usually stoic husband was beaming as he wrapped his arms around her. The caption read: [Only I can cure your illness.] What struck me, though, was the telltale bulge in his pants in the photo—a reaction I'd never seen from him with me. With a cold laugh, I liked the post and left a comment: [What a miracle worker!] The post exploded, with everyone speculating whether I'd confront the mistress. But what awaited him after the holiday was our freshly printed divorce certificate.

Three days after I died, my fiancé got a call to ID the body. He just scoffed. "She's dead, so what? Call me when she's in the ground." The cops, out of options, hit up my backup contact—my childhood friend. He actually laughed. "She's really gone? Not my problem. Burn her or whatever." Then my body hit the internet— And suddenly, both of them looked like ghosts.

For five years, I paved the way for my wife, Samantha Cole. After helping her resolve the company's troubles one last time, I called her and asked, "Darling, I'm so cold. Can you come home and hug me?" On the other end of the phone, Samantha had only just pulled herself away from a moment of intimacy with her young lover, Oliver White. When she finally answered, her voice was impatient. "Joshua Davidson, will it kill you to stop being so dramatic?" Indeed, it would. I slammed the phone down and then died on our bed. Later, Samantha—the woman who had kept me trapped in that lonely house for five years—held my portrait in her arms and finally learned what regret felt like.

At one of the exclusive private casino parties, my eyes landed on a diamond tiara. The catch? It was the prize for a high-stakes blackjack game. Luckily, poker happens to be one of my many sins. A girl named Elara—whom I once pitied enough to introduce to Throne, hoping she’d land a job—has now declared she wants the tiara too. Naïve. Probably thought beginner’s luck was a real thing. I figured, fine. Let the cards decide. If I win, I walk away with the tiara. If I lose, I’ll find another way to soothe my pride. Easy enough. Thorne, my ever-watchful husband, leaned in and murmured, “Go easy on her.” I didn’t. I won. Beat the dealer faster than her and won the tiara. That girl cried at the table. Thorne didn’t look impressed for once. He rather seemed... irritated. I thought it was for Elara’s sake. Turns out, it was for mine. A year later, same party, different stakes. The grand prize? My own sex video. While holding Elara in his arms, my husband said to me, voice almost amusing, “Don’t you like winning prizes? Then go on. Win our sex tape back.”

I fell asleep in my CEO girlfriend"s office. When I woke up, I found two large words tattooed across my face that read 'Old Bachelor'. Sophie Spark's assistant, Joshua Payne, was holding a tattoo pen, looking at me with a provocative smile. "You've been with Sophie for ten years and she still hasn't married you. That makes you a pathetic bachelor, doesn't it?" I smashed the mirror on the spot. The shards scattered like rain toward Joshua. The next second, Sophie rushed in and shielded him behind her. She frowned at me, her voice full of impatience. "He's just a young guy joking around. What right does that give you to pick on him?" I stared at her open collar. On her chest was a faint red mark. Looking closer, in the shadow of her cleavage, I could make out the words 'I Love Joshua'. Joshua peeked out from behind her, acting cute as he spoke. "Sophie was worried I'd be bored, so she specially bought me a tattoo pen that won't wash off. I was just joking around. You're not that petty, are you?"

Thanks to Sofia Columbo, Luca Vitale and I keep breaking up and getting back together for three years. Exhausted and desperate to get out of this situation, I end up choosing to be with Don Marco Rossi, who has been pursuing me for many years. Since then, we've been together for five years. His love for me never wavers, and I truly believe that I've chosen the right man to be with. But at the bachelor's party that takes place one week before the wedding, Marco's Underboss, Enzo Ferrari, begins running his mouth without any filter whatsoever after he gets completely wasted. "Don Rossi, Anna actually fell in love with you for real! Does she even know that you're only marrying her just so Sofia can be with Luca?" Marco just smiles without denying the allegations. He merely says, "As long as Sofia can be with Luca, I'm fine with marrying whoever. Honestly speaking, I did get close to Anna with ulterior motives at first, but I still ended up falling in love with her for real. "By the way, do not let Anna find out about this, no matter what. You know how much she hates it when people lie to her. If she ever finds out, she'll leave me just like how she left Luca. That mustn't happen at all." After wiping my tears, I tell my father that I wish to marry the man he has picked out for me.