My Hot Wife Stories นิยาย & เรื่องราว

Valerie Carter has always admired the Kosarin brothers from a distance. Five powerful, untouchable men who ruled both the business world and every room they walked into. But admiration turns into something far more dangerous when her father trades her freedom to them as collateral for a contract. Now trapped in their mansion, Valerie is forced to navigate a world she was never meant to belong to. Secrets linger behind every door, tension simmers between the brothers, and the line between protection and possession begins to blur. One brother watches too closely. Another keeps his distance. And one… might ruin her completely. As betrayal, desire, and power collide, Valerie must decide whether she is just a pawn in their game, or the one who will change it forever.

This is the second book of The Billionaire’s Wife and the Mistress (Book 1) IMOGEN WARREN She caught her fiancé cheating. Luckily, she wasn’t stupid — she had signed a contract: whoever cheats first loses everything. Now her ex is bankrupt and furious, spreading nasty rumors. Rumors that say Imogen is cold. Frigid. A woman who doesn’t know how to satisfy a man. Fine. If they want to humiliate her? She’ll find a man to prove them wrong. But the stranger she chooses… feels dangerously familiar. Handsome. Dangerous. Cold. Why does she feel like she’s met him before? And why can’t she remember? ADAM WILSON Once a bastard who cheated on his sweet, patient wife — Maya. Karma came for him in many ways. The worst? Erectile dysfunction. A punishment he accepted without complaint. “She’s dead. My dysfunction is a blessing. I’ll raise my twins alone and focus on work.” But what happens when he meets Imogen? A woman with Maya’s face… A woman who makes his so-called dysfunction instantly disappear?

Miguel, I'm happy for this moment..." Ximena wrapped her arms around his neck as she cooed lovingly, mixed with the gasp due to the finished 'strenuous action', Just Before she could mutter "I love you", the man murmured in a hoarse voice. "Tan..." Ximena froze. Tan was Tania Roberto, the first love of Miguel Ricardo. Tania hasn't returned to the country, she has stayed abroad all these years. But, Just yesterday, she arrived back in Mexico. Moreover, she had sent Ximena several provocative text messages. She wasn't yet over her Ex. "Ximena, I'm back! You have to vacate from the Ricardo family! I'm back to take back what rightfully belongs to me." "Miguel and I are childhood sweethearts. Did you think you could replace me in just a few years? Get out! Get back to the Streets where you're likely to belong. You're doomed to remain in the streets forever."

"Honey, the washing machine's making that buzzing sound again. Can you fix it please?" I got up from my desk and walked over. Just as I placed my hand on the washing machine, a wave of numbness surged through my body. My heart pounded wildly before I convulsed and collapsed on the floor. Just before everything went dark, I heard my wife on the phone. "He has collapsed. He should be dead by now." The power outlet continued to hiss and buzz, like the mocking laughter of a devil. When I opened my eyes again, I was back to the day my wife asked me to fix the washing machine. I then decided to secretly follow her, only to discover she was posing as a topless model for her art teacher.

When I took my five-year-old son, Ethan Drake, for a routine medical checkup, I noticed an additional renal function test listed on the report. “This is a mandatory item for kidney donor matching. Didn’t you know?” the nurse asked. Her explanation left me confused. “The checkup I booked didn’t include this test. Could there have been a mistake?” “There’s no mistake. The appointment was made by Ms. Serena Vaughn. She specifically added this item.” The Serena the nurse mentioned was my wife. At that moment, my sharp eyes caught another form in her hand: [Diagnosis: Polycystic Kidney Disease. Patient: Noah Vaughn. Family: Serena Vaughn.] I immediately called Serena. “The nurse said you scheduled a kidney donor matching test for our son. What’s going on?” There was a three-second pause before she spoke. “The nurse must have made a mistake. I’ve been busy lately. Don’t call me if there’s nothing important.” I smiled and told her I’d do that. Then I turned to the nurse and asked, “Which ward is Noah staying in?”

My wife, Wendy Sinclair, has a severe sleepwalking disorder. After she falls asleep, she always wanders out in a state of unconsciousness. The night before our wedding, she disappears without a word. I have no choice but to postpone our wedding. Only then does she walk out of her childhood friend's house next door, rubbing her sleepy eyes. Afraid I might overthink, she cries and apologizes to me. "There's no cure for my condition. From now on, just tie me up when I sleep, okay?" I feel sorry for her, so I just change the door lock to make sure she cannot go out. But in the middle of the night, I wake up and see her standing on the edge of the balcony. She climbs in through the window and goes into her childhood friend's house again. Soon, suggestive and intimate sounds come from inside. My blood runs cold. Her sleepwalking isn't an illness at all—it is out of love.

I always thought my wife was just an ordinary "brother-loving sister," the kind who would do anything for her brother. But one night, I watched in frozen horror as she dismembered her brother in our storage room. Then, as if nothing had happened, she turned and looked straight at me. She flashed her usual gentle smile. "Honey," she called softly, her voice sweet and familiar—exactly the same as always.

On the day we decided to get a divorce, I saw Miranda’s account book while I was packing up my stuff. Aside from our daily expenses, Miranda had also set up a scoring sheet for me. Miranda had taken notes of all the things I had done ever since we started dating. Some of them were such miniscule things that even I had forgotten. She took note of them all with a red pen, and she scored them by either awarding me points or deducting them. However, the further down the sheet, the more points were deducted. In the end, I saw Miranda add one line in black ink. [He’s no longer the Henry Jones who used to love me: -100]

Olivia Penn was the only daughter of the Penn family. She was born into privilege and status. People often called her the holy maiden of high society. She was untouchable and devout. The system gave me a mission to win her heart, but I ended up losing mine to her. After we got married, the mission was successfully completed. I should have left this world immediately, but I chose to stay for her. The cost was constant, bone-deep pain every single day. One day, I saw her being intimate with my younger brother in a church. The rosary she never took off was teasingly caught between his lips, then removed and tossed aside. Even our son wanted my brother to be his father. So, I gave them what they wanted. However, if this was what they wanted, why did they regret it after I died?

I was holding my wife as we slept when her phone suddenly gave a special alert tone. “Rachel, my whole body hurts. Please help me…” The message was from Daniel. He sounded entitled, and he even attached a photo of his abs. My wife pushed me away at once. “Wait for me. I will head over right away.” I could not hold back my anger. “Where are you going? It’s the middle of the night, and you are going to see him? He’s your brother-in-law. Can’t you keep a bit of distance? “Your sister has been dead for half a year. Do you have to take care of him like this forever?” Rachel suddenly raised her hand and slapped me. “Sam, he has post-traumatic stress disorder. You already know that. I am his psychologist, so what is wrong with helping him? Why are your thoughts so filthy? “Forget it. I can’t talk sense into someone like you. Stay home and reflect on yourself.” After saying that, she did not look at me again. We had been married for five years. Every time we argued, she would walk away and give me the cold shoulder. She knew how much I loved her, so she hurt me without restraint. She was certain that I would ultimately give in and try to make peace. However, this time, I did not try to salvage the situation anymore. My heart was dead. I did not want her anymore.