The Wrong Woman Novel Novels & Stories

My frustration increased. The female lead rejected the man who genuinely cared about her. She ignored her friends. Ignored her family. Ignored every warning presented to her. Then eventually accepted a marriage proposal from the obviously dishonest candidate. I sat upright. “No.” Katherine was already laughing. “No?” “No.” I pointed at the screen. “She cannot possibly be this stupid.” “Luciano.” “She has witnessed him lie six separate times.” “You're supposed to enjoy the story.” “I am not enjoying this.” The woman married the wrong man.

And yet, someone that formidable had his political mating ruined because of me. The dining table was set with my favorite roasted venison, but I couldn't swallow a bite. My eyes stung. "Casper, don't blame Kyler. I'm the one who's clumsy... I ran to the wrong pack, got the wrong Alpha, and messed up your plans..."

I pulled my knees to my chest and wrapped my arms around them. The scream built in my throat. Raw and desperate. I let it out. Not loud enough for the whole house to hear. But loud enough for the empty room to swallow it. Alone in this massive bedroom. Married to the wrong Marlowe. Trapped by paper and lies and a choice that had never really been mine. The echo of my scream faded into silence. But the fury remained. And the trap felt tighter than ever.

I hope he rots in prison and I hope to never see his face ever again. He was nothing but a huge mistake. Matthew Bryant was my worst mistake, I wasted an entire year with the wrong guy. I loved the wrong guy, I gave him my entire heart thinking that he was the right person for me but he wasn't. He was a mistake and I can only hope that I will meet the right guy someday because I am so convinced that Matthew wasn't my soulmate. He wasn't my Mr. Right, he was the Mr. Wrong if that is even a thing. The end.

But hearing the first name this woman was uttering, and she knew it was the same person they have in their mind. “What now? You can't speak, can you? ” She angrily shouts at her. “Because you know that what I am saying is true? You stole my boyfriend! And I am pretty sure you did a lot of fucking business; that is why you have easily written your fucking erotic novel! You get inspiration and really got inspired by him, so you could easily write erotica. Guys, you all... take care of your boyfriends, and maybe your idol will snatch them from you too. Do you see?! That woman! That's right. She is the woman I am talking about!” The murmurings resounded. She saw the approaching staff of the publ

Because at first, I also thought that like the others, men should be older than women. "Fine ma'am. I accept all the consequences. And I will pack all my stuff." Give up? I'm so lazy to fight for useless things. Because however, and trying to explain anything, in my eyes, I am the most disgusting woman who is so despicable, only they hold the keys of heaven, and I am eternal in hell. "I'm sorry, I have done a lot of mistakes and lacks so far, I was wrong to have been close to the students, had fallen in love with him, even 'slept' with him."

The same grey eyes, the same jawline, the slight but distinct difference in height that anyone paying attention would have noticed. Then the staff testimonials. Unnamed, legally protected, but specific — a florist who’d handled both sisters’ public appearances, a driver who’d commented on the change in demeanour after the wedding, a catering employee who’d noted something off during the reception. And Evelyn’s question, placed at the end with the precision of a woman who knew exactly where to put the sharpest thing. Was this a romantic deception, or a corporate fraud? And who, exactly, was protecting whom? She handed the phone back to Rowan.

“What drama?” He didn’t answer right away. Instead, he pulled out his phone and opened a trending article. The headline read: *Young Married Woman Caught in Scandal with Older Married Man.* Her stomach dropped as he held it out for her to see. She forced a laugh, though it sounded hollow. “Liam’s the one at fault, not me.”

If she jumped the window that was that high; she might end up with a broken bone, which wasn’t worth it. She opened her phone and ordered a taxi. Thankfully, there was one close to her location. She waited in one of the cubicle trying to while away time while she waited for the taxi. The sound of knocking on the cubicle door sent her heart racing. What’s going on? This was a female bathroom; there was no way Steve would come in there. She knocked back. The knock became rapid that she had no choice but to peep at whomever was making such noise. Turns out, it was Steve. Steve was in the female bathroom.

She was near the east wall with a glass of champagne, her red hair catching the gallery light the way the gold leaf in her work caught the gallery light, and she was looking at her own piece on the north wall with the expression she had when she was looking at something she had made, that specific quality of attention that was not pride exactly but something more complicated than pride, something that had judgment in it as well as satisfaction. He had her name now. Octavia. The real one, not the one the wall gave everyone, not the one she had offered him an hour ago in a courtyard with the city above them and his jacket on the ground. Octavia Maddox. Who had a storage unit somewhere and a gy