The Wife He Never Chose Novels & Stories

It was then I noticed that idiot making a pass at my so called wife and that damn stupid woman seemed to be enjoying it from where I stood and could see them. There was no way she was going to ruin this for me. Not after I've reached this far and so close to getting what I want. I kindly excused myself before walking to Joel and my wife who went by the name of Sierra. Her tastes were even more pathetic when it came to choosing men. Seriously? My useless brother of all people who couldn't keep his thing erect. I really had a dumb wife. No wonder dad chose her to be my wife.

Angela Romero-Fernan is an ideal wife. A perfect Type-A wife to be exact. A loving wife to her husband Sebastian Fernan. A caring mother to their only son Thomas Romero Fernan. Angela also fulfills the duty of a CEO on their own family business. You see, she is the perfect ideal wife any man could wish for. But her husband Sebastian saw all those things from a different perspective. And indeed up cheating on her perfect wife Angela. And now shady things happened that their perfect marriage is at risk.

She says, smiling at them. “This is my wife. Now you can give her all your praises.” Edward said, sounding very pleased. “The party was so beautifully decorated, and I’m honoured ro have experienced being surrounded by such non living beauty, even if the abstract art seem to come to life sometimes.” “Oh really? The pleasure was and still is mine, Mrs Shaw, thank you very much.” Edward’s wife says with a large smile to Natalia and sends a cropped version of her original smile to Wendy. Natalia, noticing the tension quickly speaks up. “My husband is waiting for us. We have to go.” She smiles.

“Because you’re not leaving.” The finality in his voice struck like a slammed door. Not cruel. Just… done. Like this was no longer a negotiation. “I didn’t choose this,” she said, her voice cracking. “I never chose any of this.” “I know.” He said it so simply, so clearly, that it made her even angrier. “Then why do you keep pretending like I’m your wife?” she asked, trembling. “Is this like a real marriage?” His eyes met hers. For a second, she thought she saw something behind the gray something raw. Fleeting. Vulnerable.

I thought about our wedding night—how careful he'd been, so gentle, holding me after and swearing I'd be his one and only. In our two years together, I begged for a child. He always blamed my health, said it wasn't safe. Even when I cried, begged—he still said no. And now, here he was, loving someone else with that same tenderness... ready to have a baby with her. So it wasn't my body. It was me. I was never enough for him. That's why, when it came down to me or her—he chose her. She was the real wife. Zachary... you betrayed me, after all.

He told himself he would only choose a wife when the time was right. And that had brought him to Lyra. Among the women in his circle—rich, powerful, and desperate to marry him—choosing one had always been difficult. He cared more about honesty than love (if he even understood what love was). And so he had stepped outside that circle, seeking a wife without the games. Now, for the first time, his face learned to smile. His features brightened, and a light stirred in his heart. “That’d be great. You look perfectly beautiful to be my wife,” he said.

They wondered who he would choose. "Who do you think matters more to him—his wife or you?" Greg's voice dripped with mockery as he glanced at Heather with amusement. Tyrone stood still, his gaze unwavering on Heather. After a tense pause, he said, "I choose Janine." Heather was stunned by his words. She bit her lip, unable to say a word. "See? That's the man you've been fighting for. You've sacrificed so much, and yet, in the end, he chose his wife." Greg's taunting words cut through the air, sharper than ever.

"Every decision I make is calculated. You backed the elders when they gave me two options marry or step down. And God knows I won’t surrender the empire I built with my own blood and sweat over the last ten years. So yes, I chose to marry but on my own terms. She is my decision.” Her eyes burned, "You think you’re preserving our legacy by dragging in some street rat?" she spat. "Do you know how many billionaires came to me with daughters worthy of our name, elegant, powerful families with clean blood and ambition!….. but you” She pointed a trembling finger at me, voice rising with each word. "You choose a pauper, a gold digger, a parasite perhaps even a whore to stain everything we built?" I

"You're making it obvious about us. She's your wife, you're supposed to care about her in situations like this, not me! You're supposed to choose her." Without breaking a sweat or his gaze, he replies: "I'll choose you. Always." A pensive silence falls. The climax builds slowly, rising higher and higher as my eyes flicker around his face, following the direction of his eyes as he searches mine too. My heart hums fast, blood rushes in my ear. He is too alluring, too irresistible. What kind of man comes running when his sister-in-law calls him? Why does he care about me more than my own husband ever had? It makes my heart melt. It pulls me into his grip when I should be running away from him!

“And they’re flirting with you. You’re not noticing?” “Yeah, I know. And she’s not the only one,” he said casually, eyes glued to the magazine. I narrowed my eyes at him. “Then why me?” “Why what?” “Why, out of all these ridiculously gorgeous women, did you pick me to pretend to be your wife? I mean… you could easily get someone like them.” He paused, looked at me like he was weighing some life-altering decision, and then said, “I don’t know.” My eyes practically rolled out of my head. Seriously? That’s it?