My Woman His Wife Book Novels & Stories

"Third week running." "I know," I said, already halfway out the door. "I know, it's incredible, I have to go." I'd barely had time to process any of it, the book deal that had come together almost by accident two years ago, a quiet evening of writing down everything that had happened to me, never imagining anyone would actually want to read it, let alone that it would become the thing currently dominating every bestseller list I checked. The title felt obvious the moment I typed it. “His Wife On Paper.” Because that's exactly what I'd been, once. On paper. Nothing more.

she says. "Mama please.My wife doesn't need ai stress. I'll take your luggage,"he says carrying it. "You call this snake a wife.Shs is going to kill you in your sleep,"she says. She elevates her stinking feet on my chairs.

I listened until he finished, and then I poured him a cup of the dark, bitter espresso he’d once loved, and pushed it across the counter. “I’m not Isabella anymore,” I said, quiet and steady. “That girl died the night you walked away from me, bleeding on a marble floor, to carry Sofia out of that banquet hall. She died when I heard you order a fake marriage license to keep me quiet. She’s gone.” I told him about my life here: the regulars who brought me fresh fruit every morning, the dance class I took on weekends, the quiet, safe life I’d built for myself, the first one that had ever been mine alone.

I am still his wife legally. "I'm his wife," I answer directly to the woman. She looks at me furiously and stared at Hunter. "What?" asked the woman who suddenly burst into anger. "She's your wife?" she asked Hunter but he did not respond. "He won't answer you, cause he didn't know I'm here. Hey sweety, surprised." I give them a smirk then raised an eyebrow at the woman. Trying to make her disappoint so she can leave quickly. "Why you didn't tell me you have a wife. Are you gonna make me your mistress?" The woman said angrily and slapped Hunter at the same time. "You are so full of yourself, but you are nothing but a womanizer, Pweh!"

My defenses, which had been razor-sharp just a moment ago, dulled in the face of the warmth that suddenly felt possible. Outside the room the house resumed its ordinary noises, indifferent to the tiny world where a woman who could not remember signing a marriage contract lay in a man’s bed and tried to remember how she had become his wife. ***** LMCD22

The letters started arriving the week of publication. Not to the foundation. To the publisher. Forwarded to me in batches. Claire's team had set up a system. Screened. Sorted. The ones that needed foundation resources flagged and redirected. The ones meant for me personally set aside. I read them on Sunday mornings. Grace and Daniel with Marcus. The kitchen quiet. Coffee going warm in my hands. A woman in Ohio. Married eleven years. Read the chapter about Flynn correcting me at the dinner party. Recognized it as her own marriage in a way she'd never been able to name before. Left the following week.

I stepped closer, hesitating only for a second before pushing the door open just enough to peek inside. And then— Yeah. Okay. Not what I expected. Not at all. — A woman was draped over him—over my ‘husband’. And he was sitting on a damn wheelchair which looked more like a gaming chair- too sleek with hell lot of buttons than were supposed to be on a damn wheelchair. Very much not looking helpless.Very much preoccupied licking her tities. I blinked once.Twice.“Well,” I muttered under my breath, “this is… something.” The woman noticed me first. She froze, then turned her head sharply.“What the hell?!” she snapped.

“N-NO!” “You resist one more time, I’d have to cuff you, love.” My body stiffened as I angrily glared at him. He couldn’t be serious. But the swirls of eyes were more than serious. He’d cuff me rendering me helpless once again. My eyes reflected with intense fury and rage. Wife they call me and yet treat me like a whore. Use me whenever their heart desire. “I am your wife!” I cried angry tears rushing down my eyes. Ralph looked amused shaking his head. “Not a whore!”

> "I'm the cold, detached wife. I'm the emotionally unavailable physician who spent more time in the trauma bays than in her own home. I was entirely too focused on my own career advancement to notice a lonely, neglected husband." Thelma looked utterly crushed. The absolute silence that followed was all the confirmation I required. I nodded slowly, the pieces of the puzzle locking into perfect alignment. The script practically wrote itself. The highly successful, unyielding female doctor; the busy, neglectful mother; the tragic, cast-aside husband who simply fell into the arms of a warm, supportive young woman. You could almost hear the whispers spreading through the manicured lawns of River