The Abandoned Husband Dominates Novels & Stories

She shot me one last contemptuous glance, took Johnny's hand, and turned to leave. I watched her retreating figure, and the memories of our fifteen years together flooded back. Despite everything, I couldn't help but call out to her. Maeve spun around instantly. "Changed your mind? Ed, it's too late now—" I cut her off, glancing at her hand intertwined with Johnny's. Whether it was because I'd already hurt too much, or because I'd finally let go—my heart felt calm now. I said, "We were married once, so I'll give you one last piece of advice. Johnny isn't who you think he is. He's not the son of war heroes—he's been lying to you. His reasons for getting close to you might not be innocent..."

MIRIAM POV If you find your husband in a compromising state with a woman, what would you do? Run? Yell? Or walk away? If someone had asked me that question yesterday, I’d have laughed and chosen to yell. But tonight the situation is right in front of me And guess what? I chose a different answer. I did nothing I just walked away And they never knew I had seen them, I had seen their ugly faces. Now the silence is eating me alive, and I don't know how long I'll be able to survive.

Avery’s eyes were wide with anger, almost ready to explode, yet she felt oddly satisfied inside. "Avery, don't you think what you're saying is funny? I'm Damien’s legitimate wife. What's so strange about a husband holding on to his wife? But you, why are you so upset? Did you really think that after three years, you could go from being the other woman to the main one? Once a concubine is always a concubine, don’t ever forget that!" Elena’s words made Avery even more furious, practically fuming with rage. She believed she was better than Elena in every way, except for the title of Mrs. Salvatore. She dreamed of kicking Elena out and shedding the label of the other woman!

“Hubby, c-could he be that brat’s husband? The one surnamed York.” Abigail whispered to her husband. They only found out from the villagers that Serenity was married. They had not seen Serenity's husband before. The villagers had told them that Serenity’s husband was really good-looking but looked like he had a bad personality. His gaze was as piercing as a knife and it made him seem like a bad person. He was not involved with the mafia, was he? When Abigail thought of this, she quickly grabbed her husband’s arm and hid behind him.

Beside the photo was a scanned document—a formal Blackwood family agreement stamped with the word DISOWNED, alleging that Asher had embezzled millions from his father's accounts before being cast out. The article painted his sudden appearance at Serena’s wedding not as an act of rescue, but as a calculated, predatory move by a disgraced outcast trying to claw his way back into high society through Vale Maison. Serena looked up instantly. Asher was staring down at his own screen. His face was completely blank, but the knuckles of his hand were stark white as he gripped the edge of the table.

Sydney “You’ve been sleeping with Bryce Westin.” He shot back, heaving. “So don’t come here acting so innocent! I’ve seen…” I laughed and he trailed off. “Well, can you blame me?” I grabbed a pair of heels off the rack. “My husband abandoned me while I was in the hospital. Don’t you think it makes sense to spend my time with someone who actually gives a damn whether I live or die?” His hands clenched into fists. “Sydney….”

His mild manners concealed an almost frightening ambition I had never fully glimpsed until that last day in our shared home. No, spineless idleness did not lurk in those sharp green eyes assessing me so coldly as he signed away our crumbled marriage without hesitation. If anything, freedom from me had likely been the escape he secretly longed for from the start. An opportunity to slip the leash on his hidden aspirations at long last. I shook away the unease tangling my thoughts, refusing to dwell any further on ghosts of the past. I had a business empire to salvage and rebuild. Wallowing in bitter speculation over Tristan’s motives would gain me nothing now.

That lit up an emotion in me that made me regret not holding her longer, not pushing her inside the door and making good on my need—to tear that gorgeous dress off of her body and lick her, just to see if her skin tasted as sweet as her mouth, to fuck her. I was a man who got what he wanted, but I had been acting like a love-sick puppy since I’d met Abigail. She had called me a coward because of my views of not getting married and not having kids, and it didn’t bother me until her ‘You make me wish I never do’. “I found out about Abi,” Dom said, walking into the room. I should’ve been happy, but I wasn’t. “I don’t give a damn.” He stood beside my armchair. “Did something happen?”

He had abandoned me in the worst possible way and hadn’t even bothered to check if I was okay. I dropped my bag on the floor and kicked off my shoes, the tile cold against my bare feet. “Where the hell are you, Paolo?” I whispered into the quiet apartment. Unhappiness settled deep in my chest, heavy and suffocating. I had needed him last night. I had needed my husband to pull me back from the edge Domenico had pushed me over. Instead, he had practically thrown me into Domenico’s arms with his absence.