La Esposa Del Fantasma Novels & Stories

A woman with a bitchy face seemed unaffected by her husband's actions and was still in dreamland. Alex Matthew Forest: "What did you say? Wait a minute. You make me suspicious. Who are you? Are you an alien or a ghost? You have been acting weird, like you are not the Massimo I used to know. Since when did you and Abby hit it off? Are not you the one who ever told me if you hate your wife?"

I crossed the ballroom floor slowly, my heels clicking rhythmically against the hardwood, feeling an odd, icy calm wash over me. Marcus spotted me first. His smile faltered—just a microscopic hitch in his jaw before he recovered. Sophia turned toward me, her expression still bright with laughter, and then I saw it. Recognition. Not the polite curiosity you show a stranger. Total, instant recognition. Before either of them could utter a word, I extended my hand, my smile warm, open, and perfectly practised. "I don't think we've met. I'm Elena." I let my eyes flick briefly to Marcus, then right back to her. "Marcus's wife." Sophia Lang's face went entirely white, just for one silent second. Th

"I left like you’ve always wanted me to and since you wanted Lucas all to yourself, I gave him up. You won, Victoria. You got the husband and you surely got the life you wanted. Isn’t that what you’ve always wanted?" "I got a ghost!" she shrieked in pain like she was possessed. Her face contorted in anger and I watched in horror as her already frightening appearance got even more scary. "I got a man who whispers your name in his sleep when he barely rests. I got a man who spends every waking hour obsessed with finding you, watching you, and wanting to drag you back into his filth. You ruined my marriage before it even began because you won't just die and stay dead in his mind."

Something I never thought I’d see. Catalina never cries. She never asks. Never demands. She’s just... there. Always fucking there. Obedient. Warm. Silent. She lets me forget anniversaries. She takes the distance. She lets me be a monster and smiles when I bring home blood on my knuckles. But tonight, I slipped. I let the mask fall. I let the ghost of a woman I’ve never touched, never even seen fully, crawl into my bed. And I used my wife to exorcise her.

I choked out, a ragged, bloody whisper escaping my lips. "You came back..." The figure leaned down, hovering over my broken body. But as I stared closer, desperate to finally see the face that had haunted my waking nightmares, the beautiful illusion violently shattered. The soft, yielding features of my ghost mate began to warp. They shifted, snapping brutally into sharp, terrifying clarity. The face staring down at me wasn't my wild Omega. It was Valeria. My icy, untouchable contract wife. Her silver eyes were wide, cold, and entirely apathetic.

"Fight it. I don't care how much it burns, or how heavy the shadows feel. You fight it for me. I am your wife, and I am commanding you to return." She waited, her gaze locked on his face, searching for the slightest flutter of an eyelid, a twitch of a muscle, anything to suggest he heard her. Nothing. The silence in the room was absolute, amplified by the heavy stone walls. Suddenly, a chill swept through the room, sharp enough to frost the glass of the bedside carafe. The pearl in her hand began to pulse with a sickly, rhythmic light. Gianna gasped, pulling back as a hazy, ethereal form began to coalesce at the foot of the bed. It wasn't the welcoming, benevolent ghost she had imagined, but

Her phone lit up again. I walked over. On the screen was a preview of WhatsApp notifications: James: [Your husband came today, I’m so scared. [Will he hurt our child? [When are you coming to see Noah? He says he misses his Mom.] The shower was silent.

Brandon's management team, the bodyguards, and that arrogant property manager were all instantly pinned to the ground, crying and wailing. Cassie watched the dark gun barrels aimed at her and finally broke down completely. She screamed at me hysterically, "Arthur! You can't do this to me! I'm your wife! I was wrong! I was really wrong! Make them let me go! Please! Don't you love me? You've sacrificed so much for me. You can't be this heartless!" However, the only response she got was the soldiers coldly pulling her arms behind her back and binding them tightly with restraints. Her precious designer dress was pulled out of shape. Her carefully styled hair hung in disheveled tangles, making he

“I'd bet anything that Mr. Sterling doesn't actually love his wife. I heard the old Mr. Sterling forced his grandson to marry that pathetic low-class girl, Isabella Grey, just because she once saved the old man from falling. Sometimes I do suspect she planned that event to get favors from him.” Rita let out a loud gasp, and her eyes widened. “Oh my God! Where did you hear that?” Vera shrugged carelessly. “I have my sources.” The words had barely left her mouth when my shadow stretched across the floor between them. The two women instantly froze, their faces draining of colors. Slowly, they turned around and saw me standing there; every ounce of confidence vanished as their bodies trembled. I

I undressed Anastasia and lowered her gently into the steaming bath. I had removed my shirt, not bothering to change my wet jeans. I was cleaning her arms and she was in the bath, eyes closed, and leaning on the bathtub when she suddenly sat upright. “Hey” I blurted out, holding her arms but to my surprise, she touched my cheek. “Hmm? Are Regan?” her words are slurred as she rakes her gaze in my face “My husband is really my husband even in my dreams”