The Other Mrs Novels & Stories

After Diana finished speaking, he didn't hear any response for a long time. He couldn't help but glance in the rearview mirror, only to see that the man's eyes were slightly dazed, and there was no expression on his face, making it impossible to guess what he was thinking. Diana pursed his lips, does Mr. really care about Mrs. now? But it was a matter of human life, he couldn't help but say again: "Sir, Madam she"

“Who the h*ll are you?” Austin tugged at his collar as he spoke in a tone that contrasted with his usual gentlemanly appearance. “I-I’m Mrs. Moore. We’ve met before.” The woman sounded slightly upset but spoke in an ingratiating manner. Austin had no idea who she was. “Mrs. Moore? Which one? I don’t know a Mrs. Moore!” Besides his relatives and a few friends, Austin had little interaction with women, let alone someone else’s wife. As the woman said she was Mrs. Moore, Austin thought he would not know such a person. Plus, why would he be in contact with someone else’s wife?

"What? You're too private, Ms. Martin. I wonder who will be the lucky guy?" "Oh... Celine. She hasn't moved on from her ex. Don't ask her." Mrs. Gutierrez revealed. Ex? I wonder who the ex she’s talking about. Or just Rome? "Ex? You had an ex? Who?" Mrs. Antoinette Cartier seemed so intrigued. "None other than Rome De Herrera," Mrs. Gutierrez announced then simply smirked at me. As if I will pathetically play her game… no way! I will not engage with her nonsense. It’s not worth the effort.

"Always like what?" He was about to respond when a lady interrupted us. It was Mrs. Pearson—or was it Preston? Another woman accompanied her. They both appeared to be in their mid-sixties. I recognized Mrs. Pearson, but from their expressions, it was clear they had come to ask about what I had mentioned earlier. "Aren't you a fine young man?" Mrs. Preston remarked, standing before us, more specifically, before Sebastian. I studied the women with a small smile etched on my face, waiting for them to ask their questions and leave.

Attractive people dressed in uniform work diligently. Soon, an older woman in a long, flowing, red dress says, "Hello, young ladies. I'm the Head Mistress of this home, Madame Knight, but everyone calls me Mama." Mama is wonderful. She leads us to a lovely suite. Surprisingly, the room is modern but has ritualistic aspects. Once Mama leaves, Maureen checks the drawers and says, "No Bible?" Suddenly, she drops to the floor and looks underneath the bed. I laugh, "What are you doing?"

Then Mom rushed to Laila's side, and Dad and Simon followed close behind. They all surrounded her, and it was the perfect picture of a loving family. Only I stood alone in the corner, like an outsider who didn't belong.

My father's temper flared even more. "Are they trying to pull something like getting pregnant before marriage and fighting Dylan for the family's assets? I'm going back to the hospital to beat him senseless!" Right then, my mother's phone rang. She answered impatiently. "Yes?" A voice came through from the other end. "Hello, is this Mr. Curtis Skinner's mother? I'm calling from the hospital morgue. Mr. Skinner's body has been here for two weeks. When will you be coming to take care of the arrangements?"

He had just looked at me for a moment in the way he looked at things he was not going to comment on and then said the car is downstairs and that was that. The door opened. Margaret Rowe was not what I expected. I do not know exactly what I had been expecting. Something more formidable perhaps. More visibly strategic. The kind of woman who made you feel the assessment happening in real time. She was elegant. That was the first thing. Not in an effortful way. In the way that some people are just built with a particular quality that has nothing to do with what they are wearing or how they are standing. She was in her early sixties. Dark hair going silver at the temples. Beckett's eyes exactly.

Jensen. Word had it that after returning to the town, she spent all day sitting at the village entrance, grinning foolishly at anyone who passed by and mumbling incoherently, "I'm the instructor's wife... I'm going to live in a mansion… Where's my Hermès?" Elowen became the laughingstock of the entire town. … A month later, the court finally delivered its judgment on Vincent's case. I didn't attend in person. It was Dad's lawyer who sent me the video of the court proceedings.

“Objection!” “Sustained. Mrs. Beckett, please refrain from any speculation.” “My apologies, Your Honor. But even if not from my speculation, I think what Mr. Lawrence presented today painted a rather clear picture of what was happening in my marriage. I trust that all of you can understand the reason why we are here at all.” Lawrence flipped to another section of his notes. “You stated that you’re the CEO for Meadow Lane. Is it correct that you’re currently experiencing a sudden hardship?”