Seven Wives Book Novels & Stories

Princess Freda asked, stepping out of the bathtub, facing him. “I won't kill another wife, I promise,” Prince Ra said. “And your mother?” Princess Freda asked. “How do you know she is my mother?” Prince Ra asked, not remembering telling her that Zuberi was his mother. “I saw a whole lot more drinking from you than what I saw when our minds are linked,” Princess Freda laughed. “Be my wife. Let's stop this nonsense,” Prince Ra said, putting his hands to the side of her face. “Nonsense? I will tell you what is nonsense. The fact that you have six wives is nonsense, and I did not dream of sharing my husband one day with six other women. Well, five other women,” Princess Fey said flatly.

I'm not even sure you understand how gracious your wife is to arrange for you to have sex with other slaves for a week. "She is Marcia in this story. She's already given you another fucking slave, for whatever reason she chose or wanted to do so, but she's given you more than you've given her. You don't want her having sex with other guys anymore. It hurts you too fucking bad. And now you have two slaves to fuck, anytime you want, any way you want. And you go off for a week and she gives you more slaves to fuck; women, her emotional competitors, because you could fall in love with them.

Her world crumbled right before her eyes. She immediately imagined herself pulling that woman’s hair and strangling her neck. She wanted to confront her and ask her why she would do that to her husband. Ask her where did she find the audacity to steal a married man. She wanted to scream at the top of her lungs and cry like no one was around. In reality, her self-worth was gone even when she remained composed. She wanted to put all the blame on the woman when her husband seemed to equally enjoy the ass that was on his lap. She could not even bring herself to defend Jack. He willingly kissed and did even more with another woman.

"I'm here. It's okay." She kept a close eye on my moods, like I might fall apart at any second, and still handled the baby on her own. Just like she said, she was a good wife. A good mother. Maybe she was too good. Maybe that was why I chose the slow kind of pills. I thought I could fade out instead of ending it all at once. The next morning, a loud crash downstairs pulled me out of sleep. I went down and stopped at the bottom of the stairs.

Irene paused then said, “Well, I knew he had been married before.” “How many times?” Irene looked at Ares, and he looked back at her. Ruthven answered for him. “Six.” Irene turned fully toward Ares. Six? She had known there were previous wives. She had known about Mira. She had not known there were six of them. Which made her number seven. That was... a lot of dead wives.

One room somehow becomes two. A forgotten reading corner gains fresh flowers, softer cushions, and shelves filled with novels instead of decorative books nobody has ever opened. "I can finally sit in here," one of the housekeepers says, lowering herself onto the sofa. "Before today, I was afraid I'd accidentally breathe on something expensive." I laugh. "I only moved a chair." "You moved six." "I counted four." Mrs. Harper walks in carrying another vase. "I counted eight." I look around. "Really?" "Sweetheart, you've been nesting."

Every month a cycle of hope and heartbreak, every night a reminder of failure, every embrace a duty more than a desire. Still, she forced a small nod. “I know.” He reached for her hand under the blanket, his grip warm, searching. “Let’s not give up. God’s timing is perfect, Emelia. We have to keep believing.” She swallowed hard, unable to find words. His faith was unwavering, his heart good. And yet, in the pit of her soul, she knew belief wasn’t her problem. It was desire. Because even now, as her husband pleaded for closeness, her thoughts were elsewhere—drawn to another man who had no right to occupy her.

My eyes widened. “She got married seven times, Eve. Seven divorces, and she didn’t leave any of those marriages empty-handed. It’s not something to proudly talk about, but she made sure to get something from each of her husbands. Talking about the will is her way of telling him to come back alive.” Wow. What a twisted way to say something like that. “I can’t imagine being married seven times.” I let out, and Andro laughed. “We could try it.” I blinked in confusion at his words.

"I did." I laughed hysterically. Her eyes changed to black as she turned to me. "No one defended her when she was molested and you didn't do well to help so she killed herself. How many wives did your husband have? I think five or six..." Meridia wanted to scream and lose control but she caught her breath and relaxed her nerves before continuing her work. "They were five. He neglected me because I didn't lay him a son. Is there anything else you want to know?"

I struggled to speak as I used my trembling hand trying to grab Ismail's shoulder. But the Ismail in front of me seemed to have gone insane, muttering something incoherent and acting completely out of control. His strength made all my struggles in vain. I finally understood how his six ex-wives died – they must have been all strangled to death by him when he went mad like this! Soon my lungs ran out of air. I started to get dizzy, and my strength slowly diffused away from my body. Everything seemingly slowed down, including my struggles. Just when I thought I was going to be that seventh wife of his who would die in his hands, he suddenly released me.