The Temporary Wife Read Online Novels & Stories

“I’m not your servant.” “No,” he agreed. “You’re my wife.” The way he said it made her pulse stutter. “And in my world,” he continued calmly, “a wife obeys.” Her hands curled at her sides. “This is temporary,” she said. “One year.” His lips curved slightly. “Everything is temporary,” he replied. “Including freedom.” Her heart sank. He gestured toward a leather couch. “Sit.” She hesitated then obeyed. He remained standing, looming before her.

But he didn't feel the burn. He couldn't breathe. His heart completely stopped beating for a second. The woman on the TV screen... the new billionaire boss of the Rathore Empire... the powerful woman who just declared war on his company... It was Kiara. His boring, poor, rejected wife.

My defenses, which had been razor-sharp just a moment ago, dulled in the face of the warmth that suddenly felt possible. Outside the room the house resumed its ordinary noises, indifferent to the tiny world where a woman who could not remember signing a marriage contract lay in a man’s bed and tried to remember how she had become his wife. ***** LMCD22

But there is something about Terry's words, his vulnerability, and his respect for her journey that struck a chord within her. Slowly, she releases her grip on the glass, taking a deep breath to steady herself before responding. Her voice carries a hint of vulnerability beneath her composed exterior. "I am no longer a complete woman and I can never be the woman of your dreams.” She pauses, allowing her words to sink in, her eyes never leaving his. "While my priority remains focused on my own path for now, I can't deny the fact that neither you nor your family is going to accept me as a half-woman…how can you ever forget that your wife has been involved with another guy?” Terry's eyes widens

Do you think by marrying me you will get limitless money, a luxurious life? "Wife? Like seriously, you are considering your ugly self as my wife? The multimillionaire Sebastian Knight's wife? Then listen you are nothing but a gold digger. How much I wish you had seen your ugly self before considering your worthless self as my wife. Your face isn't worth spat upon, you fucking whore. This marriage is nothing to me. You are nothing to me. You are just a low-class girl. How could you even think that you can be my wife? You won't even fit as my maid. Have you even seen this type of clothes in your entire life?

Then she snatched the Croissant basket from Nicholas and took one. "If you're my wife you can't be this tacky," mumbled Nicholas, his hands were busy pouring San Pellegrino into a glass. "Oh, whatever! First, you have to explain to me why you chose me to be your temporary wife?" Rachel asked, tearing the croissant and popping it into her mouth. "I don't have to answer that and it's in the contract," Nicholas said nonchalantly. "What?!" Rachel tried to keep herself from cursing. She took a deep breath to calm herself down.

Even so, Feby continued to look at her cell phone. “Hello!” she greeted them. “Hello. Who is this with?” [“Are you Feby?”] “Yes,” Feby replied quickly. [“Can we meet? I'm Widya. Ares' first wife.”] ***

Something unreadable crossed her expression at the word wife, but I couldn’t place what it was. “You know,” she murmured faintly, “sometimes I forget this marriage is temporary.” The room became very still after that. My gaze lifted slowly to hers. She seemed to realize what she said immediately because her eyes shifted away first. “I did not mean it like that,” she added quietly. But I barely heard the explanation. Because the truth was, hearing her say temporary irritated me more every single time. I secured the fresh bandage before lowering the fabric carefully back into place. “You should rest,” I said evenly.

I’m not going to let some stranger get too close to my wife, no matter how our relationship is. “Why are you behaving like this?” She retorts, trying to free herself from my grasp. “I’m just having fun. You’ve been nothing but a pain in my ass since this honeymoon started!” I bring my face closer to hers, our noses almost touching. “I may not be happy about this situation, but you’re still my wife.” She scoffs, her breath brushing against my face. “Wife? Don’t forget that you’re my temporary husband.” My grip on her arm tightens as frustration boils within me. “You’re coming with me. I can’t let you dance with strangers, getting wasted.”

Lena found it on her break at the pharmacy, sent to her by her colleague Mara with a string of question marks and no other context. The column was titled *The Billionaire's Mystery Wife* and ran to four paragraphs that managed to say nothing factually incorrect while implying everything damaging. It described Caiden Black's sudden marriage to an unnamed woman with two service-industry jobs and no social media presence. It noted the speed of the union. It quoted an unnamed source close to the couple who described the relationship as *unconventional from the start.* It ended with a question about whether the Black family's flagship company would be affected by its CEO's private life becoming p