Libro Esposa Olvidada Novels & Stories

"I didn't dump you. I was mad, alright, but I—" "Don't lie," I said to him, my tone steadying. "You shamed me. You let your mistress talk down to me the moment she had a chance. You treated me lower than your maid. Gawddd! Callum, I was your wife not a plaything. We were married five years, there were other couples who were married longer with no kids but they did not try to kill their wives because their 'mistress' had an emergency. You shoved me when I begged for help.. You told me to stop faking it. That night, I lost everything." For an instant, there was guilt in his eyes. He was looking down at the ground, like he couldn't possibly look at me. "I… I didn't mean to—"

Outside, the wind moved through the trees like an old friend returning. No longer a storm just soft and free. -------------------------------- Because some love stories aren’t made of grand beginnings… They’re made of the courage to begin again. And again. And always. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Author’s Note: By Ernest Brooks Dear beloved reader, When I first began writing The Billionaire’s Forgotten Wife, I thought I was telling a story about loss of memory, of identity, of trust. But as the chapters unfolded, I realized it wasn’t just about what had been forgotten… it was about what could be remembered, rebuilt,

“That— that day, when my memories came back, I was so confused. There were so many memories in my head that it became so difficult to decipher what was the truth and what was not. At first, I was happy. It’s because I felt that I'm finally able to live a normal life with you without my amnesia holding me back. However, as I got deeper into my memories, I started realizing that maybe everything that I felt was all a lie. Why… Why did you take such measures to marry me?” I felt my eyes warming up, so I looked up at the ceiling. “So… did you realize that you regret our marriage?” “No,” he shook his head. “Actually, yes…” My heart stopped, and I looked at him with wide eyes. “No, no. It’s not wh

A sound that made my blood run cold. A woman's laugh. Breathy. Intimate. Then Adrian's voice: "Shh. She's probably still asleep." No. No, he wouldn't. Not here. Not in our apartment. But I already knew he would. Because I'd seen this before. In my first life, in a different place, but the same scene. The same betrayal. I stood slowly, silently. Crept to the balcony door, which I'd left cracked open. And looked inside. They were in the living room. Maribel was bent over the arm of the couch, her leggings pulled down to her thighs. Adrian was behind her, one hand gripping her hip, the other squeezing her breast, his face twisted in pleasure.

No matter how hard she tried to concentrate, her mind kept slipping away from the pages, drifting back to memories she desperately wished she could forget. Friday night. That messy Friday night. The club. The lights. The music. And the sight that had shattered something deep inside her. Elena closed the book slowly, pressing it against her chest as she leaned her head back against the couch. Her gaze fixed on the ceiling, but all she could see was Marcus— her husband of eight years, standing there without shame, without remorse, with Tiara. And Tiara? The cousin she had trusted like a sister.

He is devouring her, taking every single inch of her, and she loves it. "Fuck," a ragged, guttural growl rips violently from my throat as I squeeze my eyes shut, violently shaking my head to shatter the image, but the poison is already deep in my marrow. I suddenly picture them on the thick living room carpet. I picture them tangled together on the sofa. I even picture them on the goddamn glass coffee table. Everywhere I look, my cousin's ghost is touching my wife… I mean ex-wife.

I looked her straight in the eyes. "Suri, when I first woke up, I couldn't remember anything. I was terrified. Then I found out you were my wife, and I was happy because I already knew who you were. I thought you were an amazing person." "Suri, I always dreamed of getting married. I thought I'd end up with a kind wife. I never imagined she'd be someone like you... "I'm disappointed in you, but I'm even more disappointed in myself. I used to look down on people who lost themselves in relationships, but I used love as an excuse to let you hurt me until I didn't even recognize myself anymore.

Suspiciously empty, as most of her shoes and bags were gone. “That bitch!” I cursed, yanking the wardrobe open to find all her clothes gone. I chuckled with disbelief. “If you think you can run away from me after that stunt you just pulled, think again.” Pulling out my phone, I called one of the best private investors I knew. “Pete, I need you to find my wife again.” A short chuckle came through the receiver. “It took you long enough to realize. Although you would have found out much earlier that your wife was the newly announced LG Group heir if you hadn't cut the call on me the last time we spoke.”

I had no interest in watching the two old fossils before me banter like kids. ‘I just wanted to know one thing! Where is my wife?’ “Leo, where did you keep my wife? I need her.” Leo looked at me surprised, confused and a bit happy. “You have a wife? Since when? Good, thank goodness you dropped that crazy woman named Carmen.” My face turned colourful like a palette, it was red, blue and black. “My wife is Carmen, you should know that.” “Carmen is also not crazy. If you kidnapped Carmen, give her back to me now.” I said.

Isabella halted in front of the door, recognizing the familiar voice. "Isn't that Sheila, your husband's best friend?" Manuela whispered. Isabella nodded, sensing an urge to step back and keep her innocent gaze. Despite that, she pulled the door open. The room was illuminated, revealing her husband entangled with Sheila, his alleged best friend. They lay exposed, devoid of any sheets. Isabella shivered as coldness ran down her spine. Her heart raced, threatening to escape her mouth as she discovered her husband shamelessly cheating on their marital bed.