Nine Months Pregnant, I Left My Husband Novels & Stories

The day my fated mate Cole stood at the altar for the ceremony with his childhood sweetheart Kate, I was in the crowd, clapping my hands. Everyone assumed I had lost my mind over an unrequited love. Cole must have thought so too. He hurried over to me, seized my wrist tightly, and snarled a threatening warning: "This is Kate's greatest wish, the only thing she's ever asked for. She's fragile. Who knows how long she has left." "You wouldn't want her to die with that one regret, would you?" I gave a cold smile and took a sip of my champagne. "Of course not." In my last life, I had watched Kate taunt me from Cole's arms and I had screamed that she wasn't sick at all, that she was lying. I had torn the ceremony apart and forced Cole to stop it. Kate couldn't bear the humiliation. She ran out sobbing and was killed in a car accident. After that, Cole fabricated a charge of treason against my pack to avenge her. My parents were imprisoned by the Alliance and starved to death over ten days. I was exiled, became a rogue, and eventually died — cornered and torn apart by a pack of rogues, full of rage I would never be able to spend. This time around, I would give him exactly what he wanted. Every time he betrayed me, I would reclaim one privilege I had given his pack. Three betrayals. Three privileges. And then he would have nothing left.

When I was fourteen, my brother—the Don—brought home an orphan girl to settle a debt of gratitude. From then on, my life within the Corleone family always took a backseat to hers. The girl framed me, claiming I was trying to poison her. My brother slapped me across the face and locked me in the attic. To make it up to her, he even gave her the position that was meant for me. This time, I didn't say a word. I just packed my bags and left. It took a few days for him to realize I hadn't returned to the family estate. Only then did he find out that I’d joined an international medical aid organization—and that I was never coming back to New York. After that, he completely broke down.

After the car accident, one of the Johnson sons was dead and the other gravely injured. When my devout, devoted husband woke up in the hospital, he called out, "Dorothy." He claimed that his body then held the soul of his brother, Elias Johnson. I went mad, calling doctors, priests, anyone I could, desperate to bring my husband back. It was not until that night that I overheard his conversation with our son: "Father, you've loved aunt for years. You even kept yourself chaste in your private prayer room, waiting. Now, finally, you can be with her openly." The man in the bed reached out to stroke our son's hair. "If it weren't to stop your mother from destroying her relationship, I wouldn't have married her." I hid in the shadows, still reeling from their words, when I saw what happened after our son left. The husband I had always known, icy, composed, and ascetic to maintain his devout faith for seven years, was then holding his sister-in-law close on that tiny hospital bed, sharing a warmth meant for lovers. The next day, I applied for Jim Johnson's death certificate and burned our marriage certificate. At his grand wedding, I climbed aboard the helicopter sent to fetch me. However, my once-cold husband went mad, chasing after us down several streets, desperate and unhinged.

As Gamma of the Creed Pack, I'd held the Northern Border alone for three full years. Every time I called in to ask when I could come home, my mate — the Alpha of Creed — picked up the phone himself. He told me the rogues weren't cleared. He told me the rival packs were still circling. He said, "Nora. One more year. Once we have completely eliminated all our enemies, I will hold the grandest mating ceremony for you. I swear it on the Moon." I believed him. When I dragged myself out of a pile of dead rogues with a silver arrowhead still lodged an inch from my heart, bleeding too fast for a medevac, my warriors had to shift and run me back in wolf form all the way to Creed territory. The moment we crossed the border, I saw fairy lights strung from every streetlamp along the road to the pack house. Pack wolves on the sidewalks were talking loud, smiling at each other. "The Alpha's Mating Ceremony is tonight. He's taking the Elder's daughter as Luna. Three years of peace on the border. It's a good time to be Creed." I coughed dark blood into the fur on the back of my warrior's neck and laughed, short and bitter. He hadn't needed me holding the border. He just hadn't wanted me home.

She had always been a good wife and did every house chore and never for once did she complain even when she was poorly treated by her in-laws. One day her husband comes home with a divorce paper and she signed it after crying and begging. But soon her ex-husband and the whole world were about to know her hidden identity and what would be their reaction?

I spent years trying to be the perfect wife. I swallowed the insults. Excused the betrayal. Gave up my dreams because I was told they didn't matter. Convinced myself that I was the problem. Then one day, something inside me broke. I thought leaving would end my misery. Instead, it dragged me into a mess I never saw coming. The husband who never appreciated me suddenly refuses to let me go. The man who should have been nothing more than a stranger keeps finding his way into my life, looking at me like I’m the one thing he is determined to have. One is desperate to reclaim what he lost. The other wants me for all the wrong reasons. But after years of living for everyone else, I've made one promise to myself: I will never lose who I am for love again. And if they want a war? They'll have to fight it without me.

On the night of our ninth wedding anniversary, my husband—Damian Grant, the man who ruled the mafia by day and once ruled my heart by night—did not bring me roses. He gave the bouquet that should have been mine to Serena Lane, his personal assistant. Beneath the chandelier where we once danced on our wedding night, he turned to me with that same cold charm he once used to whisper sweet nothings in my ear. “She's pregnant.” Finally, everything fell into place. “She's a picky eater. From today onward, you’ll cook three meals a day for her. And no repeats. “She’s sensitive and hates sleeping alone, so you’ll need to move your things into the guest room.” The room fell silent. I did not raise my voice, nor did I shed a single tear. I simply picked up my packed suitcase and walked to the door. The butler tried to stop me, but Damian did not even blink. “She’ll come back.” He lazily swirled the wine in his glass. “She’ll come back crying and begging within three days.” Our guests burst out laughing. They placed a million-dollar bet right in front of me. They were betting on whether I would be back before the night was over, begging Damian to let me back in like a pathetic stray dog with my tail between my legs. However, they did not know I had already received the family heirloom from my real father. I booked my flight to get far, far away from everyone I used to know. This time, I really left.

After a painful breakup under the rain-soaked night, Nova vows to reclaim her life. Transformed and fearless, she returns to school only to find herself tangled between her ruthless ex, Jace, and the mysterious, golden-eyed newcomer, Ryder—whose dark secrets could either protect her or destroy everything. But when threatening messages surface, and a tangled web of blackmail and betrayal pulls Nova deeper into danger, she must navigate a treacherous game of trust, heartbreak, and revenge. With the enigmatic Ryder by her side—his fierce protectiveness hiding painful truths—Nova fights to expose the real enemy lurking in the shadows. In a world where love and deception collide, will Nova survive the storm, or be consumed by it?

Pamela’s parents were killed by unknown men, Pamela managed to escape but they were after her then she jumped into a big river. So the killer thought she'd be dead and they retreated. Pamela was rescued by a fisherman named Jones. She was taken care of by Mr&Mrs Jones. Due to the incidents, Pamela lost her memory and was given a new name by Mrs. Jones called Giselle. A few years later, Giselle agreed to be her boss’s fake girlfriend for three months just for 1M then they both fell in love along the way. Later, Giselle regained her memory, and she was bent on avenging her parent's death, and she was helped by Thomas, the only son of Mr & Mrs. Jones and Thomas gave her a nickname, KILLER MACHINE after he had trained her. What would happen when Giselle finds out that Greg’s father was part of her Parent's killer? Would she go ahead with her plans, knowing fully well that Greg cherished his father a lot? What would happen if Greg finds out that Giselle is the KiLLER MACHINE that had been killing people? Well, let's see how this beautiful story goes.

Three months after Pete took his foster sister as his mistress, I terminated my marriage, chose to die on paper, and vanished from his life entirely. One quiet morning, I handed my child over to the nannies arranged by the family and walked out of the Rizzuto estate alone. Pete didn’t chase after me that day. He believed I would come back. Once I had calmed down, I would lower my head. The following spring, I was diagnosed with cancer. Standing in the hospital corridor, I suddenly remembered years ago— Pete had taken my hand and said, “You’ll be the finest Donna this Rizzuto family has ever had.” What pulled me back was not Pete. It was a letter from Sicily. Thin paper. Cold, rigid handwriting—the kind favored by old families who had ruled too long to bother with sentiment. “The heir has begun showing signs of emotional instability.” “Recent violent behavior has caused internal concern.” “There is disagreement within the family regarding the current Don’s judgment.” In the mafia world, there is only one reason the elders would bypass a man and reach out to a wife officially presumed dead— When the family itself begins to lose balance. So I returned. To the place I had once fled with everything I had. This time, there were no illusions. I no longer placed any hope in emotion. I was there only to fulfill the obligations of the family. I knew exactly how much time I had left. And I knew exactly what needed to be done. I became a proper Donna.