i Married The Brother Of My Supposed-to-be Husband

When my best friend died, his wife, Mia Lewis, was eight months pregnant. Mia said she didn't want her baby growing up without a father. I owed my best friend my life. He saved me, literally pulled me from death's door. So I stepped up, marrying Mia and raising their son as my own. Mia loved her career, so I quit mine. Traded my job for diapers and school runs. For seven whole years, I cooked, cleaned, folded laundry, and handled the housework. Rain or shine, sickness or health, I was there—every single day. Mia, though? She stayed cold, distant. Her warmth only surfaced in the bedroom—and even then, it was a flicker, never a flame. Just soft sighs and breathy murmurs, like she was playing a role she couldn't wait to finish. Afterward, she would quietly check the condom, as if she couldn't trust me. Then came New Year's Eve. A snap. A tear. A broken condom. Her fury struck like a thunderclap. She locked me out on the balcony, left me standing in the freezing rain, soaked to the bone as the wind howled like a wounded beast. Teeth chattering, I shivered as I watched the door like a dog, waiting to be let in. Then I saw him. Our boy, Ethan Bailey. Six years old. My son, at least in name. He came running with an umbrella in his hand. For a second, my heart leapt. 'Maybe, just maybe…' But he didn't even look at me. Just walked past in silence and handed the umbrella to the nanny heading out. Right then and there, something inside me cracked. I knew it was time to go.

“I now pronounce you husband and wife” was what the pope said, well just few of our families were present and the groom was no where to be found . My father told me he had urgent business to handle few hours before my big day…. Pure sarcasm by the way. Slowly slipping out of my wedding dress, flashbacks of how I was forced to marry a pompous mafia leader for my father’s greed stings my heart. Getting married without having to see the face of your so-called husband was the last thing on my wishlist . A man so arrogant to attend his own wedding was the last man I could ever love

“You helped your sister to run away with her boyfriend, right?” Aadil Waziri yelled at his newlyweds wife Inayat and he shook her head. “I didn't know she would run away.” She defended herself. “That means you knew. Then you could have told me about that. I would have backed out. I would never marry her forcefully. Now see what you have gotten yourself into. You spoiled both of our lives. You are stuck with me forever and me with you. But you have to pay for it. I will make your life hell. You are really my wife in papers but I will never claim you as my wife.” Pointing his finger at her he snarled at her. “Then why did you agree to marry me? You could have said no to this marriage.” Now Inayat lost her temper and yelled at him which enraged him more and he grabbed her jaw firmly, looking deadly into her eyes. “Because I want to ruin your life. You have to pay for your sister’s faults all your life. Welcome to my hellhole.” Saying that he let go of her face with a jerk and started laughing like a maniac.

Seven years ago... I was his stalker. Three years ago... I was his wife. Two years ago... I was his ex-wife. Since the day he left me, my life has never been the same. It seems like I gathered all life's misfortunes - my mother died from cancer, our family business went down, and my dad could not face the shame, so he killed himself, leaving me to take on the responsibilities of paying his debts. I have to work hard to make ends meet. I worked as a baker, a dance instructor, and an entertainer to pay the debts as well as to support myself. I was trying to be okay until he came back. He manipulated everything - owned the bakeshop where I worked as a baker, paid me to give him private dance classes, and made me agree to perform in private with him. Do you think that is already worse? Nah-uh! He paid my family's debt in the banks, so I am obliged to pay him based on his terms. I am Patricia Sandoval, sold to Stuart Cordoval - I am his personal assistant, private chef, personal dance instructor, exclusive entertainer, and on-call bedwarmer for my beloved ex-husband. This may sound absurd, but yes, I am sold to my ex-husband.

One week after my death, my husband, Christopher Ford, was making love on our bed with his one true love. His face showed pure satisfaction. "Finally, I don’t have to deal with that bar hostess anymore." Later, he held my belongings, weeping with regret. "Phoebe, why haven’t you come back?" It seemed he had forgotten that he had already pushed me to my death that night. I was forced to donate my bone marrow to his one true love, and I died, along with our unborn child.

"Do not dare to act like my wife..."He grabbed her forearm and hushed dangerously into her ear. Cold shiver ran through her veins as she closed her eyes to let the forming tears cascade down her eyes. "But..I am your wife."she stuttered. "Yeah a wife who took her sister's place to dig on my money, Rain Anderson."He jerked her with such force that she stumbled and fell on the sofa behind her. She squeezed shut her eyes and let the remaining moisture release her eye sockets. She had suffered his insults and abuses for long two years for a promise which she gave to her parents and sake of the holy vows she took with him but finally her last string of patience broke. She couldn't let him play with her self respect. She wiped her tear stricken face and stood up to match his level.It was the time when she must face him to save their marriage and give him a taste of his own medicine if she wanted to get her love and self respect back. "Its Mrs. Rain Blackwood,Mr. Nicholas Blackwood now whose bitch of a sister and your fiancee ran away on the day of your marriage with her boyfriend and I had to take her place to save our families' reputation.So, better you keept it in your mind before judging my character. "She breathed out and left her husband, Nicholas Blackwood in complete shock. He stood there like a stone statue as it was the first time she rose against his tortures.

Professor Ryven Rhys was secretly married to his student Leandra Leyn Torres, and only their family knew about it. They are trying their best to hide it from the other student, but something happened that the only choice of Ryven is to revail their marriage to protect her wife. It wasn't perfect marriege at first but, at years passed by he realized that he can't live without Leandra on her side.

I hate him. I hate him more than anything in the world. He ruined my high school. He ruined my life. He was my crush, my first love. He was my bully. But now... He is my husband. To save my sick mother, my father had arranged a marriage with the son of the CEO of NAKROS Pharmaceuticals, ADAMS BLACK. I was to bear them an heir, and they get to save my mother. But how do I stay married to the one person I couldn't bear to look at? How do I bear to sleep next to the same man who had left me shattered years ago? He said he was sorry, but I was not a fool. He knelt and pleaded for my forgiveness, but I was no longer the naive weak Sienna of high school. He claimed he needed an heir? He won't fucking get it. And I have no plan on letting him know he already had, not one, but two heirs. Four years ago. ADAMS Four years ago, I fucked up. I treated the only girl I had ever loved so badly. I messed up. And when I finally saw her after four years, I needed a way to make amends, and I did the only thing I could think of.

Melanie Armando, a 22-year-old ray of sunshine with a haunted past she fought so hard to bury is thrusted into the cold world of the Alonzo family when her mother remarries. There, she meets Dante Alonzo—her icy, emotionally detached stepbrother who somehow manages to crack her facade. As Dante unburies the darkness she’s fought to forget, Melanie begins to unmask the trauma he’s buried beneath power and pride. Their bond grows, but so do the secrets threatening to pull them apart. Torn between duty, secrets, and the magnetic pull between them, they find it harder to stay away. But could their love really bloom where it’s forbidden?

Every tear I shed feeds his ego. Every whimper, his pride. Every bruise he leaves behind, his silent claim over me. He takes me cold. Leaves me ruined. And I wait - quiet, breathless, for the next time he comes back to break me again. He thinks he has me in the palm of his hand. Thinks I’m nothing without him. A fragile wife, meek, obedient. A weakness he never needed. I let him believe it. I never tried to break the illusion. As long as I have his hands on me, As long as his shadows reach for me, That’s enough. But in the dark, daggers roam. And with every sound my heels make, they fall. He still thinks I’m glass, But he hasn’t heard me shatter.