Novel & Cerita My Husband Wants Me Dead

I wanted him dead but I wanted the blood to be on my hands. "I am looking forward to the meeting with your husband, I heard he can't keep his cock in one hole," He chuckled before he ended the call.

"Don't you dare come near us." Tears rolled down my cheeks. "But how? I wasn't even here now could you blame me for his death when all you have done is just torture me all my life?" She scoffed in annoyance. "Are you really going to play that card?" I wiped my tears away. "My husband is only dead because those fucking people came looking for you yesterday so what are you doing here? Would you like to see me dead as well?" I shook my head negatively as tears filled my eyes.

He smirked sinisterly. “I know you hate my husband but I haven’t done anything wrong. Why do you want to kill me? Both my husband and my brother will give you the most horrible death. You want to kill me, then go ahead.” I said without fear. If he thought that his crocked mind will find pleasure by seeing me in fear, he was highly mistaken.

I suddenly remembered he was in no condition to be doing this, and after he finished the first time, I made him stop. “Really a mood killer when I’m hit with the sudden reminder that my husband is dying,” I said, helping him put back on his clothes by buttoning his shirt. He looked down at me sheepishly, his hair tousled and his breath heavy. “I’m sorry. I want to live, Cathy. Mostly so that we can experience that again,” he chuckled before sobering, “I want to live a life with you and Theo.” “I believe you, but you’ve been reckless,” I demanded, sighing.

Calvin Yale, my husband, didn't visit me even a single time before I died. It wasn't until three days after I had died that he bothered to step into his stepmother, Margaret Sommer's ward. "Where's Clarissa? Get her out here now," Calvin ordered. Margaret lay in the hospital bed, her pale eyes dull and lifeless. She mumbled, "Clare's dead." Calvin furrowed his brow and scoffed. "You're saying someone like her, who's always fighting to stay alive, would actually die? Did she find out Jenna lost vision in her right eye and needed her help, so she went and hid?"

ened. Finally, a reaction. “ Sit. I didn't save you to let you die” he said, his voice tight. I hissed, then steadied my body. My legs wobbled a bit, almost like I had forgotten to walk. “ Take me to the funeral. I want to see …” “ Your husband” he completed, “ to feed yourself lies you know aren't true” I snapped my eyes shut, my throat bobbing up and down. He was right. I wanted to believe I was overthinking it. I wanted to believe that my husband was being framed.

Alice’s POV How about I give you a baby?” I turned my head to look at my husband beside me and tried to cl“imb onto his chest with my hands to caress it. “Alice, how many times have I told you,” he drawled while getting out of the bed, his voice clipped and irritated. “It was my grandfather’s wish that I marry you. Don’t try to tie me down with a child” I sat up, clutching the sheets, trying not to let the sting show on my face. “I didn’t mean it like that,” I murmured, biting my lip to keep the tremor in my voice from escaping. “I wasn’t trying to trap you.”

"I want you to want this. To want me. Is that so terrible?" "Yes. It is the most terrible thing you could ask." "Why? We are married. We could have a real marriage. A real life. If you just stopped fighting—" "I will never stop fighting. Not until you are dead or I am." I stood. Faced him. "That is your reality, Richard. I will smile for your father. I will play this role. But I will hate you every second. And the moment I have a chance—I will end you." He grabbed my wrist. Not hard. But firm. "And if I get you pregnant first? If you carry my child? Would you still kill me then?"

My husband, Gideon Huber, always thought of himself as a saint. He capitalized on my sacrifices to enhance his own reputation. In my previous life, I was beaten to death by a homeless man he had sponsored, and the baby I was carrying died as well. Gideon had rushed to the scene, wailing in grief, but his words were laced with bitter irony. "Why did you resist? If you had just complied, you wouldn't have died. Now that you're dead, what will people think of me?"

And yes, I need that fucking money anyway because my shithead stepmother will make my life a living hell. "You know what? I'm just going to say it because I owe you this anyway—You and your son... CAN GO TO HELL! I HOPE HE DIES AND YOU NEVER GET TO SEE HIM AGAIN! I'D RATHER BE A WIDOW THAN BE CALLED A GOLD DIGGER, YOU HEAR ME?!" "What did you just—"