The Wife He Broke Novels & Stories

he barked back, his voice breaking on the last word. He pressed two fingers against his brow, letting out a shaky exhale. "I watched you leave once, Abby. I survived watching you walk out that door. Do you have any idea what it takes out of me to stand here today, watching you answer his calls, terrified that history is about to repeat itself?" I stared at him through blurred vision. For the first time, I didn't see an intimidating corporate CEO or a cold, distant husband. I saw a man who had been shattered into a million pieces—and was now forced to live with the person who broke him.

I looked at my own reflection in the dark glass—the tired eyes, the faint lines on my forehead, the ghost of a man who was finally learning how to feel again. "Tell them I am not going anywhere," I said. "And tell them that if loving my wife again costs me this company, then this company was never worth having."

“You want me to fuck you, for you to scream my name every night and then wake up in my arms the next morning?” Usually, I would have blushed and pulled away but I don’t know why his words had the opposite effect on me. I felt myself inching closer to him, wanting to feel some more of his body heat close to me. I was so entranced by his words I didn’t realize when he took a step back or when he pulled his hand away from my face until I felt water splash on my face. “Only in your dreams dear wife,” he said those last words like they tasted bitter on his tongue. “This is a sham of a marriage, always has been and will be.”

It turned out that ever since my wife lost her best friend, I had vowed to uncover the truth behind it, and I had spent restless nights doing that. “Why did you never come back after that night?” He asked, and the memory unlocked itself again. The night I had called, saying I found something and wanted to share it, just before the dinner, my wife went missing. Missing. “My wife is missing.” I pointed out, panic rising in me. “We need to find her.” He raised his brow. “She is not. She announced her late break, and I thought she did that to start a family with you.” Break.

He still stubbornly held me, which made me strike his face. At last, that managed to make him release me, but his eyes were still filled with determination not to let me go. I knew his unyielding nature too well. “Sir, I don’t know who she is. But touching someone else is a crime.” “You are my wife.” This crazy bastard. Now he was claiming me as his wife. I truly wanted to scream those words in his face, but I forced myself to control my breathing. “Your wife? Wasn’t she already dead? I don’t know who she is.”

“Don’t say things you don’t have the right to say.” He stepped closer again, his presence overwhelming, the scent of him— clean, familiar, devastatingly wrapping around me before I could stop it. “I have every right,” he said quietly. “Because I broke us. Because I was a coward when I should have fought. Because I won’t repeat that mistake. And because you're my wife.” “You don’t get to decide that,” I hissed. “You don’t get to decide anything about me anymore.” I looked deep in his eyes. “And I am not your wife either.”

“You’re drunk. You don’t know what you’re saying.” “I know exactly what I’m saying.” He reached for me, his hand closing around my wrist. “Come here.” I tried to pull away. His grip tightened. “Jason, let go.” “Why?” He pulled me closer. I could smell the whiskey on his breath, thick and sour. “Why won’t you let me touch you? You’re my wife.” “You don’t want to touch me. Go and touch her instead." His eyes narrowed. “Her?” “Your freaking mistress.Get out of my room.”

Julian's POV When my wife, Monica Jackson, said those words, I finally raised my head to look at her. We'd dated for four years and been married for five. We'd shared the best years of our youth. I never expected that things between us would end up like this. I curled my lips into a bitter smile. But Monica, acting as if she didn't see it, asked darkly, "I'll give you one last chance. Where is Billy?" I wanted to sneer at her. But my one moment of willfulness had already dragged my entire family down with me.

I’m just your wife…" Sophia’s POV: Yes, I’m only a wife on paper. Legally bound, but not in the way we live our lives. Seven years have passed… and nothing has changed between us. Except that I no longer need to work to fund my studies or feed my family. I live in a beautiful home and no longer fear my father, who does nothing but drink and hurt people.

"While Lyara is becoming one of the most powerful women in Sterling City, you still look like a man trying to remember where he parked." The air went thin. I wanted to argue. I wanted to tell him that Ashworth Heights was not a place you lost overnight, that influence bled out slowly, that I was still fighting. But the truth was in his eyes, and he knew I knew it. "Another family approached me last week," Phillips said. "Old money. New tech. Their son is thirty, clean record, and he doesn't have to explain to the press why his ex-wife now signs his paychecks. He is far more suitable for Lila than you will ever be again,"