Is Charlie Puth Married Novels & Stories

"Matthew, let's stop fighting, okay? I can have children for you now. However many you want, we'll have them all. Let's go home, okay?" I pried her fingers off one by one in disgust, my eyes ice-cold. "I'm not fighting with you anymore. But if you keep disrupting Sarah's and my wedding, I'm calling the police!" Lisa looked at me in disbelief, as if only now realizing that I truly did not want her anymore. She stood stunned for a long moment, then burst into laughter. "Call the police! Great, go ahead and call them. Let them arrest you for bigamy!" Sarah, who had been silent on the side, took the microphone from the officiant's hand. She took our marriage certificate from her father and displ

The touch was steady, a public gesture that read as support and nothing more. “Mrs. Kingstone,” a photographer called, aiming for a warm, staged moment. “Any comments on your partnership’s mission for the foundation?” Elena searched for words that would present them both in a dignified light while still protecting the fragile truth beneath the surface. “We’re committed to supporting health initiatives,” she said. “And we ask for privacy as we focus on our family’s needs.” “Any reaction to rumors about the nature of your marriage?” another voice asked, sharper with expectation.

I rubbed my stomach as I kept laughing. There was no way I was going back to that house. I tapped the search bar on my phone in a bid to look for cheap accommodation. I stared at the top stories column with blurred vision. The one at the top position read “Billionaire Eliott Wisconsin's Marriage Invitation.” I wiped the tears from my eyes and tapped on it. The photos popped up and I almost lost my balance. Right there was my dear husband who I divorced a few hours ago wrapping his arms around my sister's waist. Her left hand was raised and on the fourth finger laid a beautiful ring. I tapped on a video and I cried as I watched the video. They announced their wedding in a video which was uplo

His expression froze as he looked up at Janine, but she was busy staring at her phone, as if waiting for news. The veins on his forehead throbbed as he suddenly grabbed Janine's hand and said softly, "When are we getting married, Janine? I can't wait to marry you." Janine was surprised when he grabbed her. She had always thought of the divorce as a funny way of trying to cajole Charlie, and had never thought about marrying him. Charlie was a good-looking man who knew how to have fun, but he was divorced and raising a son with his ex-wife. Janine would never marry him.

“She texted him while we were together. He said they broke up when she accepted a job in Australia without telling him. Then she came back a year later, and they dated for a few months before she went back. She really hurt his feelings, I think.” “It says here that she’s getting married now.” “She wanted to hook up with him last night.” Charlie’s eyebrows rise. “But he obviously didn’t.” “No.” I smile. “He chose me.” “Over a model.” Charlie puts on a stunned face, and we both laugh. “Does it mention anyone else?” I ask her. “No. It says ‘Kip is currently single.’” Her lips twitch. “It doesn’t mention you.” I give a short laugh at the thought of me being linked with a relatively famous billio

"I'm sending you and that child of yours straight to hell today!" Blows rained down on me, one after another, and I tasted blood as it pooled at the back of my throat. Words clung to my lips, unspoken. I wanted to scream, to tell her the truth—that I was Charlie's hidden wife, and she was the one who'd broken into our marriage. It had only been weeks since I'd seen the announcement on social media: Charlie and Fiona, arm in arm, in a post that went viral.

I remember staring at her pale face, thinking it was my fault. Now here we are. And if she didn’t open her mouth and talk, if she kept pushing me with that stubborn silence—God knows I would have finger-fucked her right there just to break her pride. At least then she’d understand I’m not the kind of man who plays gentle games. Sooner or later, she will learn the truth about the man she married. My phone buzzed. My assistant’s name lit the screen and I answered immediately. “Sir, a few people in Chicago found out you’re married. Do you want me to die down the news?”

Chantel walked in, her hugging black dress, beautiful and sexy. “Hey, hubby!” she sang annoyingly. Fred groaned, rubbing his temples as he aimlessly scrolled through his phone. “Do you like what you see, babe?” Chantel asked, twirling. He slammed his phone down. “Just stop it, Chantel. I don’t want to look at anything.” She pouted, leaning on the edge of his desk. “Oh, I get it—you’d rather stare at Bethany. Too bad, though. She’s gone, and guess what? You’re getting married to me.”

He bumped into Chad as he walked out of the office and said, "Is your company in the middle of a crisis or something? Elliot is in an exceptionally bad mood today." "Everything's fine. It's Mr. Foster's love life that's in a crisis," Chad responded. Charlie raised his brows in curiosity, then asked, "Who's he dating? Why haven't I heard anything about it?" "His wife." "Avery Tate?" "So, you have heard about it." "I heard it from Chelsea. She's always bringing up Elliot when I talk to her. It hurts my ears," Charlie said, then grinned and added, "So, the great Elliot Foster has fallen in love with a young lady who's barely out of college. Interesting…"