The Wife He Threw Away Novels & Stories

"Jerome, you can't be this cold. Talia's your wife! You're really sending her to prison yourself? Without her, these kids won't have a mother!" It made my stomach turn. Now he just said it out loud—she's my wife. No shame. I almost wanted to slap myself for bringing him into her life. "You good? Talia's your wife. Your kids' mom. What's she got to do with me? You wanted what wasn't yours. You stabbed me in the back. Now you pay." As they dragged Talia off, she twisted back and spat, "I put up with being your wife for seven years—that's more than you deserved. You think you're some prize?

“She meant nothing. She was never your wife in the first place.” Adrian’s eyes darkened, subtle, but clear. Not anger. Something deeper. “She may not be my wife in name,” he said quietly, each word steady, “but she’s the only wife I will ever have in my heart. Remember that.” He stepped closer, not touching, but close enough to make her tense. Then he turned and walked away, heading straight to his study. The door shut behind him with a sharp, final click. Alessia stayed where she was, her fingers curling at her sides. Anger burned beneath her calm face.

She had treated them like worthless, disgusting trash and tossed them straight into the slums. She had told him over the phone that she'd thrown them away. At the time, he'd been furious, convinced she was just talking trash to make him cave. He never imagined... that every word she said was the literal truth. She had even thrown away the symbol of their love. Did that mean her wolf had truly, finally, discarded him?

The only reason he didn't throw me out of the house is definitely because he still found me useful. “Davis, how shameless can you be? You already divorced me, yet you want me to continue acting the part of the obedient and supportive wife. You don't want me, but you want to keep using me. What the fuck do you take me for?” I muttered, clenching my fists. His steps halted for a while, letting me know he heard my words. However, he continued on his way as if my words were nothing more than a dog's bark. And once again, the tears I swore would never let out came falling down as my eyes turned bloodshot.

"Yours? You said she was a charity case. You said she was boring in bed. You PUSHED her to me so you could run off with your mistress. So tell me, who's the real son of a bitch here?" Mason went very still. "Should we wash our dirty laundry out here?" Aiden wiped blood from his lip. "Or do you want to keep pretending you care about Grace when we both know you don't?" "Shut up—" "You threw her away. Like garbage. And now you're mad because someone else sees her value?" Aiden laughed. Bitter. "You're pathetic." Mason's face was red. "She's still my wife. Legally. And you had no right—"

I guessed the staff had told him what was happening. That day, I walked past Nate’s study. His coffee cup still sat on the desk from three days ago I had brought to him the morning after that night, cold and abandoned , just like me. I picked it up with shaking hands and I brought it to my nose, his cologne still clung to the rim. The cup shattered against the wall before I realized I’d thrown it in anger I sat on the floor, watching coffee drip down the expensive wallpaper, and laughed. This was what I’d become. A woman throwing cups at walls because her husband chose someone else.

I asked, my voice quieter now, almost steady, “why did you marry me?” He didn’t look away, he looked straight in my eyes and said; “Back then, Sienna’s parents arranged for her to marry someone else, a dangerous Russian Mafia,” his tone didn’t change. “We tried to run away together, but that night… I crashed my car.” My fingers tightened around the paper. “I almost lost the ability to walk, my grandfather threatened to cut me off completely, said I was a fool for trying to ruin my life for a woman, if my mother hadn’t intervened, I would’ve lost everything.”

Arabella Whitmore is gone. People posted messages of condolence. They remembered her as the fortunate woman who had married into the Ashcroft family. No one knew she had lived among them all this time, yet never truly been seen. No one knew that the face they once admired was broken — not only by the accident, but by the very people who should have protected her, and who had cast her aside so quickly. There was Leonard, spoken of as the grieving husband. Margaret, the grandmother mourning her loss. Even Vanessa was mentioned briefly, as a family friend sharing their sorrow.

The moment the marriage certificate landed in the trash, the entire room went silent. Everyone knew how close my wife and I were. Back when we first got together, I had even given up the chance to study abroad for her. After a long pause, my wife, Vanessa Reed, was the first to react. Her face tightened with irritation. “Enough, Ethan Carter. Tyler only made a few offhand comments. Do you really have to take it this far? No one even needs dinner anymore. They’re already full from watching your attitude.”

"I clinked glasses with the woman! My wife held her hand and told her she was lovely!" "Oh my God. She must be his mitress," a woman whispers, and the word travels around the circle from mouth to mouth, quick and sharp, until it's everywhere. "Imagine hiding your own wife." That's the lanky man, loud and slurring and furious. "She walked into a fire for you. She pulled you out of a burning building, and you left her at home and paraded this one around like a trophy?" "That's low," says the man with the gray beard. "That's really low."