Secrets Of The Neglected Wife Novel Mga Nobela at Kwento

"Fine. I’ll talk to the head of security right away. We’ll check the cameras in the ballroom, corridors, and all other places. The three were so engrossed talking about the investigation that none of them noticed that a hidden shadow nearby moved to the other side in panic. It was none other than Anna who was secretly hearing their talks. She stood pressed against the wall as she gritted her teeth so hard that her jaw ached. Now she finally knew that Elara was Nathaniel's wife. But she had heard how Nathaniel didn't love his wife. She had heard rumours that he only loves Melissa. Then why was he investigating so much for Elara? She thought inside her mind. She hadn't expected Nathaniel to be

My secret wife. Debbie was perfect. Smart. Calculated. An ideal partner. She didn’t believe in love. Neither did I. Marriage, for us, was a strategy. Power. Expansion. And yet… My gaze returned to Natalie again. “Do you think they’ll get married?” Debbie asked casually. I didn’t reply. I just watched, the entire time. I couldn’t stop. Did she love him? Was he the one she wanted? The one she whispered about? The thought made something twist inside my chest. Unfamiliar. Unwelcome.

I swallowed hard while forcing my eyes upward again, but it only made things worse because her wet lips parted slightly while staring at me with visible disbelief. Then my eyes dropped again accidentally. Straight to her thigh, and there it was. A small mole resting against her skin while droplets of water slid slowly past it. My entire body stiffened immediately. So the blackmailer was right. For some reason, that realization disturbed me badly. How the hell did a stranger know something about my wife that I didn’t? What exactly had I missed all these years? My jaw tightened while my thoughts spiraled aggressively. Who was this person? And why did it suddenly feel like they knew Nyelle bett

He walk away from me like I wasn't his wife. However, he is right. We might be married but he would never love me. For him, what we did was just a ordinary s*x and not making love at all. For him, I wasn't special at all. But for him, I am willing to risk it all. Matthew won't never love me. He can't show me to the world and proudly says that I'm his wife. Cause I am Tyra Louise Skyler-Grey, the billionaire's secret wife.

The truth of what his wife and children had endured while he'd lived in comfort as Commander of the Royal Guard. For five minutes, Sebastian said nothing. Just sat there, staring at Alessia and the children, his expression one of growing horror. He saw the poverty written on their bodies. The years of neglect. The evidence of suffering in every line of Alessia's face, every too-small frame of his children's bodies. This was his wife. The woman he'd married and left. The woman who'd been faithful to him for five years while believing he'd abandoned her. These were his children. Born from one night together. Children who'd grown up not knowing their father because of his mother's lies.

“Leaving your wife alone often.” “I handle things,” I said gently before my husband could respond. “I have my own routines.” His grandfather’s gaze sharpened. “Do you?” “Yes.” The table went quiet. Then he nodded once. “Good. A woman who disappears for her husband is never respected. Not by society. Not by family.” My husband’s fingers tightened around his glass. Later, as dessert was served, his grandfather leaned back in his chair. “Take her out tonight. Let people see her.”

I knew she was either fucking or asleep, but my mind already had an answer of its own. Out of habit, I immediately dialed my husband's number next. It rang.. and rang.. until the call was cut off. My mind was already playing a fast one in me– Was Vivian really having an affair with my husband? My chest tightened as the silence pressed against me like a weight. I knew I couldn’t get mad, I wasn't a saint– my secrets were still welled up in Athens and the best way to free my mind was to either try sleeping or rather distract myself.

I said softly, “the woman he loves just came back.” He blinked, confused. “Then… we should leave, right? So we don’t bother him?” My throat tightened. “Yeah, baby. We should.” That night, after Leo fell asleep in the guest room, I sat in the dark and stared at the glowing screen. Seven years—married in name, separate in practice; sharing a roof like strangers while silence and his family’s men kept watch. I’d married into a Mafia dynasty—not for power, not for protection, but for love.