The Wicker Husband Novels & Stories

"She probably had countless abortions. Anthony must've been desperate to sleep with her." "Anthony dumped his wife for her. I heard that his wife's mom died because of them. Well, karma's arrived." "He's a typical gold digger! He thought he had great potential, but he's nothing without his wife's family's support. It's too late for him now." On the day we proceeded with the divorce, Anthony looked utterly defeated. He stared at me and scowled. "Shirley, you did this to punish me. Are you happy now?"

Pulling out his gloved wet fingers, he shoved them into his mouth, sucking her taste off. "You taste like a desperate housewife." The second guy yanked her husband's PJ pants down to his knees. Her husband, despite his protests, his cock was rock hard. The masked guy unzipped his own jeans, pulled out a fat veiny cock and dragged it up and down the husband's crack. "Feel that? This is going into your tiny hole while you watch your wife get spiked on my buddy's big cock." The husband's voice cracked. "No...please...don't....we'd give you anything you want." But his body did the opposite, ass pushing back on the fat dick like a desperate whore.

Wanted to grab his razor from the sink and open the door and— My eyes fixed on the razor. Silver. Sharp. It would be so easy. One quick motion across his throat. Watch the light leave his eyes the way he'd watched it leave mine. Justice. Revenge. Murder. I stared at the razor, my mind fracturing between what I knew and what I'd dreamed and what I could prove. Because that was the question, wasn't it? Should I kill my husband for something that hadn't happened yet? For something that might have only been a nightmare?

It wasn't as if I'd never thought of going to the police in my previous life. The truth was that Kieran always caught me before I could even get to a police station. "Who are you? Where do you live? What report would you like to make?" the elderly policeman asked impassively. "It's—" Kieran suddenly appeared behind me and cut me off. "This is my wife, sir. We simply had an argument, which resulted in some conflict between us. Sorry for the inconvenience!"

In their world, the woman always carried the heavier blame. And now, the impossible request hung over her like a stormcloud: Ethan. August’s cousin. His chosen solution. Her heart twisted at the thought. She didn’t want to imagine Ethan’s face, but it forced itself into her mind anyway—his quiet gaze, his steady presence in the family. Ethan was trusted. Reliable. And now, her husband wanted her to cross the one line she had vowed never to break.

"Shut your mouth, you bitch. From now on, we're Ryan's first and second wives. And you think you can throw us out?" I was dumbfounded. The first and second wives? My first thought was that these two had escaped from a psychiatric hospital. "Walter? Walter!" I shouted at the top of my lungs. "Where is everybody?" The butler, Walter, came rushing in as fast as he could. The moment he saw feathers all over the living room, the pile of chicken poop on the couch, and the two country shrews standing there with their hands on their hips, he froze. I was shaking with anger as I pointed a finger at him. "Walter, what is wrong with security? How did they let people like this walk right into my house?"

And now, standing in front of me in our kitchen, he was attempting to play the role of the wounded, betrayed husband—not because he was actually remorseful for what he’d done to me, but because someone else had answered my distress call before he could control the fallout. "You have got to be absolutely kidding me, Marcus." "I'm completely serious, Elena." "Marcus. Stop." His voice suddenly rose, the control fracturing. "I come home after trying to reach you all night, only to find another man walking my wife through the front door—" "Your wife?" He stopped mid-sentence. I took a deliberate step forward, moving out of the shadows of the foyer and into the harsh light of the kitchen. "Your wi

For weeks, my husband had been disappearing for two hours every night. One night, I tailed him to a strange pawnshop. Inside, he was holding my nightgown. “I want to trade six months of her life. Wendy’s healthy. She’ll be fine.” Then he pulled out my lipstick and handed it to the shopkeeper. “It's only three days of her youth. She won't notice.” The shopkeeper placed my belongings on an antique bronze scale, selling off pieces of my life as if they were worth nothing. I stormed inside to stop them, but my husband grabbed me around the waist and pinned me against the cold counter. He pressed a kiss to my cheek. “You know Aria’s been coughing up blood. How can you just let her suffer

The knife slipped from my fingers and clattered against the counter. I let out a shaky breath and gripped the edge of the sink, waiting until my legs felt steady again. I stood there in the quiet kitchen, staring at the wall as everything I had been trying not to think about finally came together. The livestream downtown. The condom in his shirt pocket. The “Did she find out?” text message. Jenny seeing him at the Grand Regent Hotel. The receptionist casually asking, “Which wife?” And then Victoria, standing in that school office and confidently claiming that her husband was the CEO of Evans Global Holdings.

Waverly Gardner, my wife, enjoys watching me get jealous. She says that the more it bothers me when other men get close to her, the more it proves I love her. Thus, every year on our wedding anniversary, Waverly gets her best friend, Tobias Lawson, to replace me as the husband for a few days and makes bets with her friends to see how many days I can put up with it. In the first year, Tobias puts on my custom suit without my permission to pose for photos with Waverly. I order Tobias to take it off right away, but Waverly just kisses me and laughs, saying it proves that I really can't live without her. In the second year, Waverly gives our master bedroom to Tobias and sends me to the guest