Honey Honey Wedding

By the time I got home from my business trip, it was already past midnight—and my husband wasn't there. A woman's blouse lay on the sofa. It wasn't mine. I called him. He said he was working late at the office. I didn't bother with pretense. "Whose blouse is on the sofa?" His tone was light and casual. "Who else would it be? It's obviously a gift for you. Try it on." Suspicious, I picked it up and held it against myself. The blouse was clearly one size too small. "Honey, this is a size S. I always wear M." My husband owns a clothing company. He handles all my clothes. He's even used my measurements to design women's wear. There's no way he doesn't know my size. On the phone, he froze for half a second, then spoke as if piecing something together. "This is a new women's line I'm launching. I ordered custom pieces for you and my sister. I must've grabbed the wrong one. I'll switch it tomorrow." A moment later, his voice softened with exhaustion. "Babe, you've been gone for days. Without you, I feel so tired… I miss you so much…" It was already late into the night. Hearing him sound vulnerable—something he rarely did—made my chest tighten. I blamed myself for overthinking. But the moment I hung up, realization struck. His sister has the same build as me. She always wears size M.

To take care of my paralyzed mother-in-law, I quit my job and spent three years as a full-time househusband. That day, after cleaning up her waste, I hid in the bathroom with a cigarette between my fingers and came across a post on my wife’s boss’ Instagram. [You’re meant to be with me in the end. Since that freeloader can’t give you happiness, let me take you to the paradise of Maldev.] Above the caption were two plane tickets. Someone commented below. [That homemaker husband of hers is definitely clinging onto her. After all, she’s his meal ticket.] The boss replied. [Don’t worry. Tonight she’ll go home and come clean. She’ll say the company was caught falsifying accounts and is facing massive fines, and that she might need to serve jail time. [To keep that guy from getting dragged into it, the only option is divorce. He’s as timid as a mouse and will take any chance to flee.] I stared at the screen, stunned, until the cigarette burned my fingers. Ten minutes later, my wife rushed home, panic written all over her face. She dropped her bag on the floor. “Honey, something’s gone wrong with the company’s finances. They’re accusing us of falsifying accounts. I was solely responsible for the accounts. I might need to serve 10 years in prison, plus fines of more than ten thousand dollars. “We need to sign the papers before they seize our house. I don’t want to drag you and mom into this.”

“Don’t you want to see how manly your husband is, honey?” he whispered huskily, his voice tinged with seduction. Even in his madness, he licked the tip of her ear as he nibbled it gently. His breath was hot, and the tip of his tongue was rough, sending shivers down her spine. She tried to break free, but it seemed that her strength was no match for his. “You’re hurting me, Ace!” she snapped as she squirmed. Seizing the opportunity from his loosening grip to escape from him. However, before she could spin around, he slammed her body violently against the glass wall again, causing her to whimper as her nose hit the glass. He was nothing but a heartless fucking gay man. *********************************************** Sierra Carlson is a hot and gorgeous model trapped in a loveless marriage with Ace Valentino, a man who keeps a shocking secret of being gay and will never love her. Forced to marry Ace solely to cover up his dark side, Sierra feels her life has been taken hostage by a twisted, possessive man who is arrogant and has a hidden agenda for himself. Ace Valentino is the CEO of Valentino Enterprise, known for his public image as a man of mystery. No one knows that he secretly identifies as gay. He even forces Sierra, a model under his own company, into a loveless marriage, and even worse, he has a secret lover working under the same company. Will she be able to win over her gay husband, or will she and Ace forever be stuck in this ridiculous marriage filled with drama and lies?

In the fifth year of my marriage, I died in my sleep. However, I was born with a strange ability. Every time I died, I would come back to life at the exact moment before my last death. When I opened my eyes again, I was back at 11:11 p.m. on the night I died. Unable to find the killer, I became trapped in an endless loop. The second time, I stayed up all night trying to catch whoever was behind it, but found nothing. The moment I let my guard down during the day and closed my eyes, I died instantly. The third time, I refused to believe it and had my husband, Emmett Berkeley, lock the bedroom and seal the windows. I still died the next day. The fourth time, I stayed alone in the bedroom, forcing myself to stay awake for three days straight to find the killer. By the third day, I couldn’t hold on any longer. My vision went black, and I died again. By the fifth time, I had gone insane. Right in front of Emmett, I grinned and hacked something to death. Blood splattered across the entire wall. Looking at Emmett trembling in the corner, I licked the blood from my lips and smiled faintly. "Honey, don’t you love me? Help me take the fall, okay?" The man who used to love me deeply pointed at me in horror, screaming, "Y-you found out… You knew, didn’t you…?"

My husband died in a fire trying to save me, leaving behind a mountain of debt and a newborn child. I worked hard to pay off the debt while raising the child, only to unintentionally discover that my husband hadn’t died at all. Instead, he was sleeping with my cousin. “Honey, you’re so clever. You transferred all the company funds and faked your death, leaving that stupid wife of yours to shoulder all the debt. “She’s so clueless that she doesn’t even realize the son she’s raising isn’t hers, that I swapped him out. Once she’s done paying off the debts, the three of us can live a great life together.” I silently sneered, pretending I knew nothing, and continued to raise the child. Twenty years later, my son returned home after studying abroad. The company went public in New York. On the day of the IPO, my cousin appeared arm in arm with my husband, holding a paternity test. “Claire, your husband never died. We’ve been together all these years. Alex is my son. Now that you’ve been his mother for so long, isn’t it time to return him to me?” My husband also presented a divorce agreement. “I built this company from scratch. It’s premarital property. Sign the divorce papers, walk away with nothing, and you can leave now.” I smiled and told him, “I’ve prepared a special gift for you too. I wonder if you’ll like it."

|Excerpt| Iris was taking small steps to her husband's study. She had a medical file in her hand with tears in her eyes while she tightly gripped the file. Without knocking she entered the study to find her husband with a lawyer beside him. "Honey..", Iris started while looking down but was cut by a dark alluring voice. "Don't honey me you filthy women, just sign these divorce papers and take whatever you want and get out of my estate." Listening this Iris looked up and gasped as she looked in the dead eyes of her husband. | • | Iris Knight or now just Iris has been through alot in these past two years. Navigating her way since she got that report has been quite a task. Now broken beyond repair or as she believes she just lives without any hope... | • | Tristan Knight had it all money, power and most importantly the love of his life. But losing her due to some morphed photos have turned him into a ruthless and cold man with only goal being to find his flower... | • | So what will happen when Tristan and Iris finally after two years come face to face. Regrets, hatred, love, forgiveness, misery, happiness, sadness, hope, jealousy and trust; with so many emotion cruising what and who will win at what stake? With two most important question remaining like a mystery; What happened to Iris in the past two years and what was there in the file...

After my fiance’s childhood friend found out I was born with a heart condition, she secretly poured a high-dose energy drink into my champagne. The moment I drank it, my heart started racing, and stabbing pain spread through my chest. In a panic, I tore open my only emergency medication, but the water I used to take it had been swapped with strong lemon water. As soon as I drank it, my face went pale. I lost all strength and collapsed to the ground. “Lemon water’s full of vitamin C. It helps with hangovers and keeps you healthy.” Charlotte Whitmore laughed so hard she nearly doubled over. With her arms crossed, she looked at my fiance, Ethan Cross, the boss of the Rolling Stones. “Ethan, your fiancee’s acting is incredible! “I’ve been a doctor for years, and I’ve never seen anyone react like this to a little champagne and lemon water.” I bit my lip until I tasted blood. The pain made my eyes sting, and I clutched Ethan’s leg. “Honey, please, call an ambulance! I can’t take it anymore…” For a moment, his expression wavered, but the guests quickly cut in. “Come on, stop pretending! Nobody dies from a bit of champagne and lemon water.” “Yeah, you’re just jealous Charlotte got promoted and didn’t want to toast to her.” Ethan’s face turned cold again. He yanked my hand off and stepped away. “Charlotte’s a doctor. You’ll be fine with her here.” I stopped begging and texted my father asking for help.

I have been married to Andrew Connolly for four years, but whenever his gaze meets mine, there is no recognition at all. Even my voice doesn't register. He remembers everyone around him, yet the one person he never remembers is that I am his wife. If I put on a hat, he asks who I am. When I tie my hair up, he assumes I am a new hire at his company. To help him remember, I repeat the same outfit, the same makeup, the same hairstyle. Still, despite my daily presence, he treats me like a stranger. I tell myself Andrew is simply buried in work, that the neglect is accidental, right up until a concert night. I watch him cut through the crowd and embrace his first love, whom he has not seen in years. When the stage suddenly collapses, I seize his arm and beg, "Honey, please save me." Andrew shoves me away, his voice flat and cold. "You're not my wife. My wife is at home." I am crushed beneath the falling debris. Choking on blood, I can only watch as Andrew rescues his first love and walks away. That is when I realize it's not that he can't remember me, he just doesn't love me. The bodyguards drag me out of the wreckage. Later, I spend a month confined to bed with serious injuries. While I am in the hospital, I get a photo of Andrew kissing his first love. The blows land one after another and mercilessly jerk me awake. I am done with love, and I am done with him!

After being married to Caden Lancaster for seven years, I find a diamond ear stud that doesn't belong to me in his suit pocket for the first time. What's more, I haven't worn jewelry in a long time. I calmly place the stud on the dining table in the living room and wait for Caden to come back with our son, Felix Lancaster. As soon as Felix walks in, he spots the sparkling stud and says with disdain, "Mom, you're wasting money again." I hold back the urge to hit him. I ignore him and shift my gaze to Caden, who is standing behind him. "Explain yourself. Whose earring is this?" I say coolly. Caden doesn't speak. He stands there as if he is frozen in place. His handsome features stiffen. Seeing the scene, Felix suddenly bursts into laughter. "Dad, did you find me a new mom? That's great!" My six-year-old son imitates the mocking tone he heard from short videos and shouts at me, "Having a plain Jane mom like you is so embarrassing! Get out of my house! This looks like Ms. Sulvan's earring. That's great! I want her to be my mom. She's pretty, gentle, and she really likes Dad." Every word cuts deeply into my heart. Upon hearing this, Caden loosens his clenched fist. He takes two shoehorns from the cabinet behind him and smacks Felix on the head. He hands both of them to me and asks in a low, grim voice, "Which one do you want, honey? The wider one or the thinner one?"

My crippled sister, Monica Porter, jumped from the roof of the classroom building. The day before she died, she had just been fitted with the custom prosthetic legs I had paid for with ten years of savings. She was glowing, excited to finally stand up on her own. But my wife's best friend, a guy she said was just like a brother to her, locked Monica inside an empty art room. He smashed her new legs, forced her to crawl on the floor and lick paint clean to retrieve the broken parts, and recorded everything on video. And my wife, a judge, ultimately ruled that the case could not stand. "The video cannot confirm the time it was recorded and may represent consensual performance art between both parties," she said. Sandra Pauley's final judgment was simple. "The deceased had a history of depression. The school and the defendant bear no responsibility." I smiled and cooked her a full table of food. The next day, I hung the bully, Eric Hoyles, from the school's flagpole and livestreamed it to the entire internet. "Honey, remember how you said Monica had such pretty legs?" I raised a claw hammer and brought it down on his ankle. "If you don't hand over the video evidence right now, I'll hook out his Achilles tendon one strand at a time and let him learn what it feels like to crawl!" The wind passed through. His screaming broke apart in the air, mixing with the strained creaking of the flagpole until it sounded almost like music. The live chat went insane. Meanwhile, I laughed until my eyes filled with tears.