Neglected Housewife Novels & Stories

His mouth curled up, and I felt less like a crybaby for the first time all night. “Okay.” I forced a smile back. He disappeared up the stairs, and I made my way to the living room. Taking in more of the place he called his home. The only reason I knew he lived here was that it was in a magazine. I read a lot, remember? I’m the bored socialite housewife whose husband can throw her out whenever he feels like it. The memories were forcing their way back. I fell into the long L-shaped couch. It was soft, welcoming, and I was tired. So tired.

She’d heard stories about the Harrington estate—about expectations, legacy, and control. None of them were comforting. The house was enormous, older than the city itself, its stone walls heavy with history. Staff moved quietly as Lucas led Amara inside, his hand briefly resting at her back before dropping away. His mother was the first to greet them. Margaret Harrington was elegant in a way that demanded attention—graceful posture, sharp eyes, and a presence that filled the room without effort. She studied Amara carefully, her gaze lingering just long enough to make her aware of every flaw she imagined she had.

who had endured everything at her house. Only then did she truly realize she had lost the man who loved her most in the entire world. Driven to desperation by the Grant family’s legal team and crushing debts, Eira resorted to the most foolish tactic available, which was playing the victim. With her crutch in hand, she appeared at the gates of the Grant family estate daily. Her expression was one of deep affection and bitter regret. Soon, odd voices began circulating online. “What heartless tycoons! The girl’s leg is broken, yet she waits so devotedly at the gates. How could the Grant family’s heir be so cruel?”

"Something about her face looks familiar, but there's no way my wife could ever look like that. Vanya doesn't have clothes like that, hell, she doesn't even know how to do her makeup properly." Tracy laughed cruelly. "Bernard, your wife is a pathetic housewife who shops at thrift stores and cuts her own hair. Even in her dreams, she could never look like that goddess over there. That woman probably spends more on her monthly beauty routine than Vanya spends on groceries in a year." I kept walking, letting their words wash over me without feeling any pain. In fact, I felt sorry for them. They were about to learn exactly what this "pathetic housewife" was capable of when she stopped playing th

She placed a protective hand against her protruding belly and smiled sadly she wished with all her heart that things were different and it pained her to think that she wouldn't be able to give her child a complete family but at the same time she was determined to not let her child lack anything, so When she got the call one night a week ago that she'd got a job cleaning at one of the most opulent neighbourhoods in Victoria Island, Vivian had been too ecstatic to sleep and despite having worked here for a week now she was still wowed by the sight. The living room was spacious with comfy cushions, a huge plasma TV was bolted to the wall. There were no family photos except for a few paintings.

Several women gesticulated at her and said, "That’s her, the woman who picked up a wild man a few years back and married him. I heard that the man has also brought with him a man in a vegetative state. In the past few years, she not only has to earn money to support her family but also has to take care of her useless husband. Her family drove her out because they were displeased with her.” "Well, you can’t blame that useless man for having such good looks, can you? If I met a man like that, I’d pick him up and hide him in my house too," a young woman sneered, sounding like sour grapes. The woman did not say anything and went home after picking a basket full of mussels. The woman’s house was

I hissed, glaring at her while holding my hand. “Didn't you see me walking in? Why didn't you greet me?” she asked, placing her hands on her hips. “You're such a rude woman. No wonder why your mother-in-law can't stand you.” I mumbled under my breath. “Well, the feeling's mutual.” “What did you say?!” I let out a sigh before turning to the woman. Dorothy was a housewife who relied on her husband's wealth to feel revelant in the elite society. She wasn't smart or hardworking, but always followed other people's plans and ended up being the scape goat most of the time.

"Mrs. Gray, I'm sure your son can take care of himself since he's not invalid. Why would I stop working just so I can take care of him?" "That is your duty as his wife! Why did my son even choose you as his pretend wife? You are nothing like me!" "Oh!" I smirked. "I'm sorry because I'm nothing like you, Mrs. Gray. I'm not as noble and wife material like you." She lifted her chin as if she's proud of it. I don't understand how she could settle staying in this huge mansion, waiting for her children and husband to go home from work. I can't do it. It hasn't even been a week since I became jobless but look at me now…feeling so depressed because I don't have anything to do rather than waste my ti

With that, she turned and walked out without another word. I stood there alone in the living room. My hands were trembling. I had been called a gold digger many times when I first married Julian. People said I married him for money. They ignored the fact that I worked day and night after that. They ignored the projects I completed. They ignored how I doubled the amount he paid for my debts through company growth. His mother never saw that. She only saw a poor girl who married into wealth. When I got to work later that day, the whispers followed me.

Humiliation held my tongue captive. My silence only made him impatient. "Are you going to cry again? Is that all you know how to do?" His gaze sharpened, towering over me like a Beta scolding an Omega. "Grace, you're a grown woman, yet all you ever think about is that. Maybe you wouldn't be so desperate if you weren't so idle! "Doing the same thing with the same person always—don't you ever get bored?" The words echoed in my head, but the real blow had landed long before tonight. Our neighbor, Amy Reed's voice slithered back into my mind.