Married To A Mystery Novels & Stories

No entering his office, no bringing in guests, and no access to the east wing. Rule #7 stood out in bold: Do not enter the locked room at the end of the hall. And Rule #8: If you do, you will not like what you find. "I didn’t fall in love with my husband. I fell into his trap... at first."– Married to My Stalker

It came with an intricate lapel pin, which sparkled brilliantly. I was immersed in the joy of my imminent marriage to Vivian, but just two days later, Callum suddenly had a stroke and collapsed. Rhiannon couldn't endure the shock and fainted as well. Brianna was still at school and couldn't come home, while Vivian was under investigation by the tax office for issues with the company's taxes. The once-distinguished Larson family was in trouble, and all their business partners began avoiding them. I went to a lawyer with the funds and shares that the Larsons had given me and asked if I could liquidate them.

This sensation made her drift to sleep. Muscular grip? What! No way. She opened her eyes to see a king-size bed. Everywhere in the room was red—curtains, bedsheets, pillows. No one was there with her. “Surely a dream,” she whispered. She sprang from the bed. Where was she? The last thing she remembered was the incident with Madden—her rich husband who turned out to be a criminal. She had always suspected it, the fact that no one knew their business and didn’t dare to ask.

A woman around thirty-six years old was brought in, "Gentlemen, let me introduce this woman. She is in the family of the patient who has been unconscious so far. Madam, please tell everyone present here what you know. Do not be nervous. Just say it slowly." The woman had never seen so many people in high positions in her life. Her nervous hands were trembling, but she had already promised to clarify the facts, so she still tried to compose herself, "My husband is the one you said who ate the products of your company and was poisoned. He has advanced lymphoma and has been diagnosed for over half a year." The room was full of the uproar when the woman spoke, and everyone felt it was unbelievab

Christopher asked ,he really need to know whether his problem of finding a wife in a month has been solved or not . Olivia shrieked with fear as the thought of this stranger being a stalker hit her .why is he asking me to marry him when I don't even know him ? She decided to continue the conversation while she plans an escape . " Who are you ?" She managed to ask while holding onto the car's door if he tried anything funny with her . " I thought I told you the other day .... I'm Christopher Andrews ,I know I sound frightening and strange ,but you have nothing to worry about ,i can't get into details ... I need to get married in few weeks or ...." . His voiced trailed off seeing how scared Ol

Hannah I've been a married woman for three days already, but I don't feel it. Now and then, I stare at the ring on my finger, unable to believe I’m not just married, but married to a mafia Don. It’s been the most tense three days of my life. I filled day one and two with distracting thoughts, anything at all to keep me from thinking about what I don't know and focus on what I do know: that Christian is an attentive husband.

He had completely lost his former elegance, his eye sockets sunken and cheekbones protruding as if he had not eaten properly in days. However, his eyes burned with a frightening intensity, filled with obsessive love and desperation. I had not expected to see him at this moment, and I felt genuinely surprised. He stumbled forward, his voice trembling. "Aurelia… You can't marry him... You're my wife..." The guests began whispering among themselves, some shocked. Members of the Moretti family rose to their feet, hands moving toward the weapons at their waists.

As soon as we walked away, I muttered, “That was definitely not friendly.” Cole didn’t even blink. “People get curious when something doesn’t fit.” “And what pattern do we not fit?” He glanced down at me. “Normal.” I scoffed. “Wow. Thanks. Romantic dear husband.” He shrugged. “I didn’t say you’re the problem.” “Oh, terrific. So you’re the suspicious one.” “That’s the working theory, yes.” I elbowed him. “You could pretend to be less… intense.” He grinned faintly. “And ruin the honeymoon aesthetic you love so much?”

“This must look like a full-blown circus to you all, like I'm just a sad, petty ex-wife. But no. I want to give every single one of you a real reason to listen before I walk out that door, because I genuinely have somewhere important to be, and I wouldn't miss it for the world.” Readjusting the microphone closer to my lips, my gaze locked onto one specific man. As if he already knew it was his personal case file I was about to blow wide open, he was already glaring daggers at me from the crowd. “As most of you who attended our wedding already know, Nicodemo Harrington and I are married. We got married on the very day I was murdered... almost. Yet here I am, standing before you today, very mu

A leader expanding his empire into Nevada and the world in large, diversifying investments, playing by the rules of business. No one could have guessed that beneath the perfect suit was the son of a mafia don, his empire built on blood as much as capital. And all the while, his hand never left hers. When he shifted the microphone, when he turned to acknowledge applause, even when he leaned to answer a particularly sharp question, his fingers remained curled around hers. The moment that unsettled her most came near the end. “Mr. Moretti,” one journalist called out, “congratulations on your recent marriage. What advice would you give to younger couples starting out?”