My Ex-husband Can't Stop Spoiling Me Novels & Stories

he asked her with an underlying tone that asked more if she had everything he wanted. “I have everything and then some. I really didn’t need all this stuff, you know?” “I know, but they are things I wanted to get you. As your husband, I have a right to spoil you, so indulge me please. I like buying you nice things.” Sandra rolled her eyes, slipping her new sandals on and standing up. “We’ve already been through all of this,” she argued, hoping her reasons filtered through his stubbornness this one last time. “As your wife, I appreciate all you do, but I am not for sale. Stop spending money on me, unless I ask for it.”

A familiar voice said excitedly as he ran down the staircase still talking. "You let me fuck others before they come over to your house, so why not-" He froze at the Spot, immediately he saw me and I cursed my entire existence over again. My alleged husband is my Ex's elder brother.

Yes, I knew she was a spoilt brat right from when we were kids, I had spoilt her so much, that I'm regretting it now. I just realized I've done a terrible job. I shouldn't have been too lenient with her, and over looked her spoilt behaviors. "She's my legal wife, and not an outsider, Harper. I will support her in all ways." She met my gaze, her voice quivering. "And me? What about me?" She asked. "This is unlike you, Bernard. You always had my back. Whatever I do, you will always be there for me, but everything has changed the moment she walked into your life."

"I lived in Scotland and England for three and a half years while I was in service. I took advantage of leave time to visit as many places as I could." I didn't elaborate, and she changed the subject. It was nice enough spending time with her that I asked her out. She accepted, and the rest, as they say, was history. We married. I hinted around about children, but she said she couldn't bear children. I concentrated on her, spoiling her. The sad thing about spoiling someone is that if you do it long enough they become rotten. A fact that occurred to me while I read the divorce papers.

“Forget the photograph.” I stared at him. “Forget it?” “Yes.” “You have a picture of me from the night I disappeared, and you want me to forget it?” “Not forever.” “Then when?” He didn't answer. My anger rose. “You brought me into your house. You married me. You expect me to stand beside you in public and pretend that everything is normal.” “I never said everything was normal.” “Then stop treating me like a child!” My voice echoed through the room. Lucian looked at me for a long moment.

My husband’s mansion glowed in the soft light of crystal chandeliers and waiters were busy serving champagne and hors d’oeuvres. Everyone was having fun but all I could think about was how I felt more like a guest than a hostess in this house. I glanced across the room and found my husband standing near the large fireplace and he was effortlessly charming a group of business associates. He looked every bit the successful CEO in his tailored suit and neatly combed hair. Why the fuck was my husband so gorgeous? My husband. My husband in name only because from the day we got married, he never even slept with me. He has his own room, and he didn’t want to see my face. He even prohibited me from

He asked her, "Are you sure that you aren't the one responsible? We have seen a lot of divorce cases like these before, where a woman would want to ruin her ex-husband out of jealousy just because he left her and moved on with another woman after all she had done to support him. She would also want to ruin him and render him useless back, as she believes that she was the one who built him in the past. So because of the heartbreak, do you now want to ruin your ex-husband?" "No, officers. I love Dylan so much, and I can never ruin him. It hurts me the most to see the mess that he has become now, just because he couldn't control his third leg. Dylan is my husband, and if you see him today, tell

"Who's a stranger to you? I'm Freddie, your—" "Ex-husband," I cut him off, giving him a half-smile as he frowned. I couldn't explain it, but something in his expression softened at my words, almost as if his attitude had shifted.

“You walk in here like you belong, draped on his arm like some trophy. Still married and already parading around with a sugar daddy? Wow.” My pulse jumped, but I didn’t let it show. I turned to her, my eyes hard. “Still married?” I echoed. “Don’t worry, Joey. That title doesn’t mean what it used to. Especially when my husband chooses you over me and lets you cook in my kitchen.” Her face paled. “You think this is funny?” “No,” I said. “I think it’s tragic.” Joey stepped forward. “You’re disgusting. Selling yourself off the moment you got free—”

“Are you trying to say I don’t know how to cook? Or is it that you don’t like me cooking for you?” He put his hands up, lips twitching. “I didn’t say that. I just don’t want you to stress yourself.” I smiled sweetly, though my insides simmered. “Oh, babe… I want to be stressed. A little exertion is good for the soul. I’m your wife, after all.” With that, I swayed out of the room, the mask firmly in place. Inside, though, I whispered to myself— Keep playing, Damien. I’ll play harder.