Libro La Esposa Olvidada Novels & Stories

I had never known what was behind it. I never went in. I never even dared to touch the doorknob. That room was never mine. It belonged to Emily. The place where she now slept comfortably beside the man I once called my husband. A place warm with laughter and touch—all the things I never had during years of marriage.

But this word belongs to you. Thank you for reading The Wife I Forget To Love. Thank you for choosing Helena’s story out of every story you could have chosen. Thank you for staying all the way to Always. With every bit of gratitude I have You can try out my new book the wife I swore I would never be on good novel Your Author. Spli_vena

If I didn’t know that man was my husband—the father of my baby—I would have sworn they were a couple, happy and in love. “Isabella Caruso? The doctor is ready for your examination,” the nurse called. Vincent turned, his face drained of color, his eyes scanning the hallway. He must have heard my name. When his eyes landed on me, his mouth opened, but no words came out. I had been happily married to Vincent Falcone, my mafia husband, for nearly ten years. This year, I was finally pregnant with his child. He of all people should know how difficult is for me to have the baby now. How could he do this to me?

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.

The discovery shattered Salvatore. So devastating was the truth that he had collapsed and been rushed to the hospital. While listening to the conversation, he had expected his wife to deny everything. Instead, the moment the man's mention of Sophia came up—the same Sophia who had introduced her to them—her reaction had told him all he needed to know. They couldn't see her expression through the device, but Salvatore knew his wife too well. Her silence had been enough.

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Toying with a dagger out of nowhere, Lynne said offhandedly, “Ray, she’s a cheater. Sheh did you dirty. Should I carve her for you? Krystal’s knees buckled, and she knelt before me. “Ray, we’ve been married for seven years. Think of what we once meant to each other…” I kicked her down. “Don’t talk to me about feelings. Seven years of marriage, yet you stood by as your father struck me, and your lover humiliated me.” She hung her head low in shame. “Ray, I made a mistake. I wanted a child so badly that I believed his lies. It won’t happen again… “Ray, the family legacy rests on my shoulders. I needed an heir. Surely, you can see where I’m coming from.”

“You’re not… you’re not talking about me and Leilani, are you?” Lorenzo’s lips curved into something sharp. “You’re far too impatient, Jonathan. I’m not done with my story.” He leaned forward, elbows resting on the table. “The husband, in his arrogance, thought it wise to discard the woman who had given him everything. So he did. And do you know who was waiting for her that night? Who trailed the cab she cried in?” Jonathan shot to his feet, hands slamming onto the desk. “You…!” Lorenzo’s gaze never wavered. He remained calm, “You pushed your wife right into my hands, Jonathan.” His voice softened, almost a whisper. “Wife? No. Your ex-wife.”

How on earth did Maria get involved with such a thug? “We don't have to fight,” I said, my bravado not matching the turmoil within. “She is Maria de la Fonte. My wife. Her family is prominent here, and she's been missing for six years.” He chuckled. “Julian, really? Maria de la Fonte? Your wife died in a car crash.” He pointed at her. “That woman over there is Catrina Lombardi. And she belongs to me.” He puffed a cigarette and threw it away.

I was returning but before that, I saw that there was some post-it note paste on the planner which was kept on the table. 'Going somewhere. Will meet you at home. Bye.' That's it. Nothing was mentioned about where she went or when she would return. I also don't have her number. I forgot to ask for her number. I would be the first-ever husband in the world who doesn't have his wife's number. I was thinking of all the possibilities of her going somewhere. There was a strong feeling that she went to that cafe. So I also packed all my belongings and started my car towards the cafe. I parked my car and was going to enter but before that, I