John Travolta Wife Funeral Pictures Novels & Stories

She sputtered with quivering lips, "N-No! It's not like that! The recording is all faked!" Even at that moment, Mara was trying to deny it. I sneered. "The police will surely look into the recording, but do you really think you can escape the law?" Mara shuddered. She opened her mouth and begged me once more, "Honey, let me explain…" Right at that moment, Ian's wife, Sharon Hewitt, arrived just in time and overheard the recordings. She was furious. She ran over and slapped Mara on the face twice. "You shameless wench! How dare you seduce a married man?!"

Up close, he recognized it as the wedding-shoot appointment card he'd left out for me—now ripped to shreds. Tristan's stomach dropped. He climbed the stairs two steps at a time and yanked the master bedroom door open, but there was no sign of me. The closet where my clothes used to hang was empty as well. He went door to door, but found nothing. He wondered if I had actually left. Just then, his underboss called. "Bad news! Rumors are ripping through the Spallone family. They're saying you're divorcing Ms. Jovine and getting together with Ms. Leigh!"

"Where's the wife? The divorce won't take effect until she signs it." After thinking for a moment, I pulled up Cara's flight information and explained, "She's taken her new lover on a vacation." The staff member froze for a second, and a trace of sympathy appeared in her eyes. "We have regulations. Even if the spouse can't be present, we still need to confirm their intention to divorce by phone." I nodded and called Cara. After three calls, she finally answered at the very last second. She blared, "Julian, how do you still have the nerve to call me? If you don't delete those comments, apologize to Warren, and stop causing trouble, then forget about claiming your father's body at the funeral

I held them up so everyone could see. "These are divorce papers. Signed and dated yesterday. Right here at this funeral home." I looked directly at Valerie. "Valerie made me sign them before the burial. She said I needed to sign immediately or I couldn't attend my own husband's funeral." Scarface took the papers from my hand. He read them carefully. His face got darker with each line. When he finished, he looked at Valerie and Tatiana. The anger in his eyes made them both step back. "Let me get this straight," Scarface said. His voice was soft but dangerous. "You forced the widow to sign divorce papers at her husband's funeral? Why would you do that?"

Nolan said before pushing himself to the bathroom. The day of the company anniversary had came, Nolan was seen getting down with Tino’s help and the media immediately started capturing his arrival. The party was held right at Rothschild Corporation big hall, Nolan had brought his wife Hailey who had gently alighted from the car after Nolan in a blue dress, she had looked a more older and matured than her age. The media who were already on standby immediately started taking her pictures. They had all heard of Nolan’s marriage but no one knew what the lady he had married looked like. Could the woman getting out of the party with him his real wife?

His cold voice cut through the commotion, making Lisa freeze. Seeing him, Lisa burst into even louder sobs. “Tristan, you’re finally here! I know you’re heartbroken, but Mrs. Ford is gone. It’s better to lay her to rest sooner rather than later. I went out of my way to organize this funeral and even invited a spiritualist to perform a ritual. I just want her to find peace in the afterlife.” “Who gave you the right to do this?” Tristan’s face darkened, his expression thunderous. The reporters, who had been ready to swarm him, froze in place, too afraid to make a move.

She looked back through the open doors — the casket, the white roses, the man she'd loved and lost and never understood in time. Her brother's voice was shaking in her ear. "I need you here," Daniel whispered. "Please." "I'm on my way," Sophie said, already moving, already abandoning the funeral she'd forced herself to attend. "Don't you dare let anything happen before I get there. Do you hear me? Don't you dare." She hung up and ran for her car, tears streaming down her face, grief for a dead husband and terror for a dying brother crashing into each other with no space left to breathe between them.

The first headline froze her blood: “MILLER FAMILY SCANDAL: Thor Calls Off Wedding at the Altar.” She clicked. The videos played—Thor shouting in a packed church: “THERE WILL BE NO WEDDING!” Celina closed her eyes. The sound of his voice struck her like a slap. She watched the clip, then another, and another. One showed Isabela on a motorcycle, hair flying in the wind, like a deranged runaway bride, while Raul’s face—Thor’s father—was already turned into viral memes.

As I was rummaging through the trash for leftovers, my wife, who had died three years ago, suddenly showed up. She stepped out of the Voyce and looked down at me from above. “Honey, you really did pass my test.” I was holding some moldy stale bread. I stared at her in bewilderment. It turned out that three years ago, at a class reunion, the school heartthrob she had once dated had suggested it. “I wanted to see if your love is real.”

Zara Monroe laid to rest- Heiress pronounced dead after a tragic disappearance. A video began to roll, it was my fucking funeral. A closed casket, a sea of black, and then I saw Jade clutching Ethan like she’d lost his soul. Her head was buried in his chest, his arms wrapped around her like she was his world. Mara stood beside them, dry-eyed, dressed in black lace; she looked smug, like she wasn’t the reason I was six feet under. I could feel the tears threatening to fall at the corner of my eyes, my breath caught, and I could barely process the words the reporter was saying.