Mr Criminal Wife Age Novels & Stories

" Hostility? It's a waste to have hostility towards you. An Aunt who stole her niece's money to pay for her plastic surgery and a mother who hid her identity letting her daughter die just to get rid of her! Veronica Or should I call -" "What are you talking about? I... I didn't do anything." her body trembles violently with shock as she never thought that he would know about it. Vasquez laughs sarcastically before standing up. His hands reach her shoulders. Having a devilish grin, he squeezes her shoulders vigorously. " Sabrina McKinney, 45 years old woman, I can't believe that my fake, contracted wife is an old lady who can be as old as my mother. How did you do that?"

I'd say 6'3. "This is my wife, Chiara Savellini," she smiled and stepped closer to her husband. "Pleasure meeting you, darling," I smiled. "Likewise, Mrs Savellini." "No need for formalities. Just call me Chiara," I smiled and slightly nodded. Mario turned to his son.

"Yes, he's my husband." "Impossible! He's a successful businessman whose face and news are always on the front page of business magazines. I myself really like him because my father works at one of Lucas' companies. You're joking, Kanaya." "I'm not joking. My husband's grandmother helped me escape from the brothel, and I ended up marrying Lucas." "You cheap woman! Not only are you cheap, you're also a skilled liar. Mr. Lucas would never marry a woman like you," Chris snapped angrily.

Then, she walked towards the estate that surrounded the building. Hazel took a leisurely morning stroll, unafraid of the criminals who could attack her at any time, because the building and the vast forest surrounding it were the fiefdom of a mafia family. Not a single crime occurred here because of the great influence of the family name. It was also because there was a high fence surrounding each end of the forest. Hazel usually took a leisurely stroll from the kitchen exit to the entrance gate through these woods.

The Armanis could kill me if they wanted and my father wouldn't be able to do anything about it because they owned me. I went to the garden behind the house where my father was expecting me. He was balding now, with a pepper and salt beard, perfectly groomed. My father had just turned 63 years old, but my mother was only 38, having had me at 18. I understood that my parents weren't in love. Most members of the mafia didn't fall in love. They got suitable wives who could handle the precarious lifestyle. "Gia," papà smiled at me as I approached him.

She looked pained as she recalled the past. It all happened more than 50 years ago. Back then, Old Master Shaw was in his 30s, high-spirited and vigorous, his military career was also rising day by day. Old Master Shaw and his wife were childhood friends, playmates; the two families were equally wealthy, both coming from prestigious and well-respected families. Naturally they got married, and later, had a son together. Happy times did not last, Old Master Shaw did not have much time to spend at home with his wife and son. Soon, he returned to work.

Sonnet watched them quietly by the side. After a while, the elderly woman let go of Maxwell. Sonnet finally had a clear view of how she looked like. She seemed to be in her fifties. The crows’ feet at the corners of her eyes were obvious, and she looked extremely haggard. She was dressed in a maid’s uniform. Mrs. Wilson stared at Sonnet and spoke up hesitantly, “This is…” “My wife!” Maxwell replied to her happily while patting his chest. Mrs. WIlson smiled in a friendly manner and said, “You’re so pretty, Young Miss.”

His initial wife died about ten years ago, and seven years later, he met and got married to a lady that was young enough to be his daughter. Mr. Thatcher, of course, had retired from the company and spent most of his time abroad, and that was where he met this new wife of his. Adira's never seen her before, but she's heard a lot about her - especially how wealthy her family was. Still, she found it silly that a twenty-nine years old lady would agree to marry an eighty-five years old man. It was crazy. Minutes passed, and the entire family continued waiting for Mr. Thatcher and his trophy wife. While they waited, a small conversation ensued between Nikolai, his parents and Finn. Vesper was in

I never break my rules. Not for money. Not for loyalty. And certainly not for anyone else’s wife. Yet here I was, standing in a room where power whispered from every corner. The polished mahogany tables gleamed under soft chandeliers, men in tailored suits whispered deals, and yet all I could see was her. Selene Hawthorne moved through the crowd like a storm contained within elegance — untouchable, graceful, and utterly oblivious to the chaos she’d already sown inside me.

Raine murmured as she toured. "Just see with your eyes, not with your mouth." Nicole was not too happy. She would not have let them in had it not been for Mr. Wallace Sr. Snow came to sit on the couch and looked at Mrs. Wallace Sr. "How old are you, if you don't mind asking?" "I'm seventy." Mrs. Wallace Sr. had a benevolent smile on her face. "You are still in good health at seventy." Snow had an innocent look on her face. "Are you used to living here?" Snow continued to chat with Mr. Wallace Sr.