Survive As The Hero's Wife Novels & Stories

James shouted, his voice full of disbelief and overwhelming relief. His words echoed in the chaos, like a beacon of hope amidst the turmoil. He slammed on the brakes, the tires screeching as he brought the car to an abrupt halt. The world seemed to slow down for a moment as his eyes locked onto her—there she was, running toward him, her face pale, her movements frantic, and his heart skipped a beat. His wife, the woman he thought he might never see again, was alive, but what had she been through? What kind of horrors had she endured?

The man introduced himself as Dominic Vance, and declared he was taking over as the new Alpha, effectively replacing Nathaniel. Isabella felt ecstatic. This was her chance to cancel the wedding and prove to her parents how futile their efforts were. While Nathaniel and his father loudly protested the Alpha’s decision, Isabella slipped out of the banquet hall with a smile on her face. This was the best day of her life! ** In the bar section, Isabella sat down, savoring her small victory with a glass of gin and tonic. “So tell me, why would a beautiful woman like yourself be sitting here alone, drinking gin and tonic?”

It's such a big fuck you to everyone who ever dared to hurt her, even if they're dead. This woman has survived more than most. And it's an honor to call her my wife. THE END ************************************************************************************************************** Thank you to everyone for reading this story! I highly appreciate it and can't wait to write more! I would be honored if you would take some time and leave a review, I would love to hear from you!

ATHENA'S pov Was I really cursed as she had stated ?. Was I really not meant to be around people with love ?. It did make sense since I was never with a family more than six months . Either returning me back or being murdered . Rosie and mark were the only ones that showed me love but they were killed in cold blood . I could feel another wave of tears coming up . How was I to survive the streets ,?I was only eleven years old. *Now is not the time to cry girl, find shelter before dark*

“My father’s wife was unable to conceive a child. He took two lovers as surrogates, which is how Edwin and I came to exist. He’s my half-brother. And when I was young, my mother was murdered by his mother.” Zara started intently, clutching her locket. “She poisoned my mom with wolfsbane. No one believed me, but I witnessed it happen. I relived it every night in my dreams for years until - until I met Karin, that is.” Ansel’s heart hurt. He took another deep breath. “Edwin knows that I know. He’s tried to undermine me for as long as I can remember, but his most recent tactic has been getting his hands into the Were underworld. Whatever he can do to tie my hands.”

Vivienne shakes her head, “He took advantage of me. When I saw you in that hospital bed, your back was covered in burns, and the doctors said you might not survive. It broke something in me. I’m not the type of woman who cheats.” “You never came to see me,” I say through gritted teeth. “I did. When they first brought you in. Before the surgery. They were still trying to remove your clothes. I ran away when I saw it.” I scoff, “So you are the type that runs when things get hard. I’m glad I didn’t marry you. I deserve a woman who accepts all of me, even my scars.” “Do you think your wife could stomach it. I’d like to see what her reaction would be. What does she do when she sees your scars?”

An arm-length away, but still a danger to touch. He's a poison she once had. Losing the memory of being intoxicated made the idea of being his victim again inviting. “What- I thought you didn’t know.” Belle looked away and kept a straight look in front of the unmoving car. Looking at his face made her weak and helpless. “Did you even love your ex-wife?” “Wife. She’s still my wife, Hya. We were never divorced.” Before she could say another word, Nikolai opened the door. “Liam is waiting inside.”

The memory came sharp: her laughter, fierce and warm, the promise they’d made to protect their daughters—together. She’d kept it. The daughters survived. But only one walked freely now. A low snap of a twig jolted him upright. Heart thundered. His hand tightened on his dagger. No threat—just wind straining through broken branches. Yet his mind roared: Trixie—alive, defiant. Trisha—alive, loyal. His wife—dead, because she shielded Trixie from the rogue attack that should have claimed both. Anger flared, sharper than the morning frost.

I said calmly, “You are Stacy. My wife died long ago. You even handled the cremation yourself.” She stared at me in disbelief. “How can you not recognize me? I am Wendy. Stacy is the one who died!” Hearing that made my heart sink even deeper. So, she knew everything, yet she chose to pretend and watched me become a widower. I said coldly, “How could I fail to recognize my own wife? You’re not her. No matter how alike you look, you are not the same person. She is gone. Why are you using her name to commit atrocities?”

Just enough to let something human peek between the cracks in his pro mask. "Because of her." She said simply. “Your wife has fought for this family 10 times harder than anyone born into it. You accidentally or intentionally married her and then she decided to stay when any sane person would have left. She survived a kidnapping and torture and giving birth and a dozen attempts on her life. She decoded your father’s formulas, synthesized an antidote and saved your life when you were dying from that toxin. She has earned the right to build her family on a foundation of truth and not secrets and lies.”