The Husband Novel Novels & Stories

Fuschia clench her fist as Elysian began to talk. “That story… really intriguing. Where did you hear that story, Your Highness?” “Nah, it’s just from a romantic novel I read. So, just tell me, what kind of magic does the husband used?” “Well, I think there’s no magic involvement in this case.” “Impossible! Then what about when she slept with another man who had her husband's face? Isn't the wife being tricked with magic like hypnosis?”

Instead, I heard soft, intimate sounds coming from the master bedroom. Even right under his wife's nose, they were chasing their thrill to the very end.

After my brother, Don Matteo Sabella, finds out I have a crush on our family Consigliere, Lorenzo Gallo, for years, he spikes Lorenzo's wine and has him delivered to my bed. That night, he pushes deep into me, and we lose ourselves in each other. When the sky begins to lighten, Lorenzo stays, kisses my temple, and asks me to marry him. Now that we are married, he is all those things—gentle, perfect, and fiercely possessive—handing me almost everything I desire.

It wasn't until dawn that the locked door was pushed open. My husband, Theodore Cloud, pulled me into his arms. As he leaned closer, a whiff of faint floral perfume drifted to my nose. "Izzy, I only ended up sleeping in her room because I really couldn't shake her off. But don't worry. No matter what happens between her and me, you will always be my one and only wife," Theodore said, as if explaining himself to me while trying to salvage his dignity.

I retorted in a tone so firm that he looked up at me with furrowed brows, “No?” “You don’t get to talk about him like that.” Cassian chuckled softly. “And yet your husband is a killer.” I shook my head, “Killer or not. He is my husband,” I answered, “And he does not keep secrets from me.” His lips curved faintly. “Sure,” he answered, “You can believe that if you want to. But that is never going to change the fact of what your husband is.” My jaw tightened, and I hissed at him, “I know what you’re trying to do.”

"But I won't marry you." "Oh. But what I want is for you to marry me," I said in a stern voice. "I can't get pregnant without a husband, Adam." I brought my hand to my mouth when I suddenly felt nauseous. "If I have to pay you just for you to marry me, I'd gladly do it. Just name your price." Adam looked at me as if I had grown horns on my head. "Fine. Ten million dollars, Claire." "Ten million? Consider it done," I answered just as I finally threw up my dinner in front of him.

'I was always trampled on by her, used and thrown away…when she had nothing to do with me, she would kick me…forgetting me, even though I had sacrificed so much.' His happy marriage is in chaos… his wife has filed for divorce after finding out that her husband has been playing smut with one of his female clients. The fact was revealed when the husband and wife were having sex, the husband sighed loudly and didn't realize the woman's name. “Agh… Jenny! Faster!"

The truth, raw and unadorned, spilled from William Jackson's lips. Cathleen's grasp tightened around her cup, its warmth a stark contrast to the chill that settled in her bones. Xavier Knight—cold, ruthless, dominant—was now her husband, a man who lived shrouded in shadows, his disdain for love as palpable as the ring on her finger. A marriage that was born not of passion or tenderness but of strategic retreats and familial chess moves.

“Word on the street is that her husband got killed in France, shot in the head by the opposition, and now she’s back in Algreen Cove to scrap up whatever left over pieces she could find still crawling about in her husband’s estate, word is everything has been seized by the government and she’s poor now” “Oh that’s ugly” I chirped in, I was a delightful gossip but the only thing stopping me from gearing into my full potential was the crowd in my head. Where is my husband? I couldn’t breathe, I needed him right by my side to stop the chaos that was brewing in my head.

Today was a lazy Friday morning, and the snow gently fell outside as she completed her morning prayers. Her husband, Harun, sat at the kitchen table, finishing his breakfast. He admired his wife's beauty and dedication to her faith. Little did their friends and neighbors know, Harun was merely Rishika's cuckold, never allowed to touch her or share her bed. Their marriage was a facade, a secret that Rishika kept hidden behind her devout Hindu practices.