Not His Wife Novels & Stories

Edward’s wife was not a woman a man like me should allow into his thoughts. Wanting her wasn’t foolish. It was treason. I excused myself under the pretense of taking a call, murmuring a polite apology as I stepped away from the group. No one questioned it. Men like me were always needed elsewhere, always managing something unseen. I didn’t go far. Instead, I moved closer to her, my steps casual, indirect—perfectly reasonable. The kind of movement no one would question. Our shoulders brushed. It was accidental. It had to be.

A simple statement, offered the way you offer a fact to someone you've met once before, in passing, on a night neither of you would forget. "Yes," I said. "Bianca." Something flickered across his face at the name — I watched it happen, the brief private cost of hearing it, the same name as the wife he'd buried, and I understood, watching him absorb it and keep his composure anyway, that he must have wondered about it before, must have asked someone, at some point, what the woman from that terrible night was actually called, and been told the answer landed strangely close to home. "That's a coincidence," he said, careful.

My wife's childhood friend and I were brought into the same hospital after a car crash. I had suffered a ruptured heart and needed emergency surgery. But my wife, Cassandra, was the hospital director. Instead of treating me, she ordered every available doctor to Miles Rowland's room so he could receive a full examination for a few minor scrapes. I begged her to save me. She only snapped, "Can you stop competing for attention for once? Do you have any idea Miles almost broke a bone?" In the end, I died in a corner where nobody found me. But when the wife who hated me most learned I was really dead, she lost her mind.

His attention shifted to Aria. “Mrs. Liam.” He extended his hand, and Aria extended hers too with a polite smile. With how professional their greeting was, no one would even hint they knew each other before now Dave's eyes remained glued to their joined hands. His jaw tightened; he scratched roughly at the back of his head. He struggled to contain his jealousy. As soon as Aria withdrew her hand, Dave caught her wrist and gently drew her closer to his side. “This is my wife, Aria,” he introduced, his hand still on her waist.

“That’s the thing, Nathan: you are not going to lose me because you never had me. I am not your person, Nathan. Never has and will never be.” I told him. “You are my person, Chelsea. My wife. My woman.” Was he really saying all of that to me? Just like that? “But I am not! I am not your real wife and definitely not your real woman. Your wife is Esther, and she will probably be back soon.” I don’t know that, but I have a feeling Esther will be back soon, and she will take her place as his real wife. A wife he won’t mind showing off to the public.

I whispered, rushing toward her bedside. “Yeah.” She muttered weakly before her gaze shifted past me toward the door. “Who was that man outside?” I slowly adjusted the tray of food in my hands and sat beside her carefully. “Which man?” “The tall one glaring like the hospital owed him money.” She replied flatly. “Was that your husband?” I let out a short breath and looked down at the soup I was stirring. “Unfortunately.” My mother was silent for a moment before speaking again. “He looks arrogant.”

Then he set his glass down and looked at her. "My sister has been married for six months," he said. "Overseas ceremony. Her husband's name is Marshall Vane." The restaurant noise continued around them. Soft music. Other people's conversations. Cloe looked at Mac Harlow across the table and understood that he already knew. Not everything. But enough. Sandra had told him something before she left the building and he had sat on it all afternoon and now he was watching her face to see if she would lie to him. She was not going to lie to him.

After so long, here she was in his life again. He was doing fine without her. He wished she never appeared at all. "Evening, son. How are you? How is Starr as well?" She asked smiling. "Starr is fine." He replied expecting to hear her ask about his wife, Nicole but she didn't. It made him twitch.

he says. "We?" I exclaim. "I and your mom," he says. "Mom?" I ask. "How do you know mom is missing me?" I ask. "Not that mom. I'm talking about Nova," he says, talking about his current wife. "She isn't my mom. You could've simply said step one," I shrug.

Camilla smiled that I thought was as fake as her husband. “Why not. Evenings with you are always fascinating.” Hayden’s gaze was still lingering when his lips curled in a smirk. “Speaking of fascination…” his orbs landed besides me and my body tensed. “Wouldn’t you introduce your wife, Theodore?” Instead of Hazel, my mother answered after beats of hesitation. “She’s Hazel, and Hazel, he’s Hayden, your husbands cousin and she’s Camilla, his wife.” She graced them with a tentative smile. Something dark and volatile emitted through me.