Wedding Suit Bowser Novels & Stories

Krystal Hugace is perfectly fine with her life. As her colleagues starts to get married and have their own families, she enjoys her free life being the successful designer that she is. Life is good. That is until she meets Christian Giannini –the CEO of the prominent and best steel exporter company of Ground Zeta– marching up to her office demanding for her to create the best pair of suit and wedding dress for his and his pregnant fiance's wedding. Krystal is not ready for this kind of commitment.

Blurb One sacred promise, a thousand lies, and one secret that destroys. For Dewangga, his wedding day with Vivian should have been the beginning of a perfect and honorable life. However, a small incident in the dressing room—an accidental spill of coffee—led him into a trap he never expected. Behind the locked door, he met Davian, Vivian's wild and manipulative half-brother. Davian knew Dewangga's biggest secret. He knew that behind the dashing wedding suit, Dewangga hid an orientation that he suppressed deeply. With intoxicating touches and sharp words, Davian began to ensnare Dewangga in an irresistible forbidden obsession. Now, Dewangga is trapped in a torturous charade. By day, he is the perfect husband to Vivian. But in the darkness, he is a prisoner of Davian's passion. When his wife's touch no longer stirs his body, Dewangga is forced to borrow another man's shadow to survive his wedding night.

I was born with a strange condition. I couldn't recognize faces and could only identify people by their clothes. Vincent Lancaster, my boyfriend, never minded. He said it didn't change the way he loved me. That was, until our wedding day. He answered a phone call. His childhood friend, Grace Langley, was in labor, life hanging by a thread, and she demanded he come immediately. My voice shook with despair. "Vincent! If you drive away now, we'll never be husband and wife!" But he left anyway, not looking back. Grace had always loved seeing him in white, so he threw aside the black suit I had sewn for him with my own hands and changed into white. A year later, Vincent returned. By then, my belly was swollen with life, and I was holding onto another man while hosting a baby shower. And the man wore the black suit Vincent had thrown away. Vincent went mad, claiming he was my husband, but no one believed him.

Lucifer isn't in hell. He's right here on earth, in my bedroom, wearing a three-piece suit and luring me into the deepest parts of hell. He told me I was his when he took my virginity, and I didn't believe him until he stole me away from my own wedding and tied me to him for eternity. There is no escape from my psychopathic husband, not when my body is a slave to his dark touch. There is only one option: to destroy him before he possesses more than just my body.

The day I went to try on my wedding suit, a stranger stormed into the VIP fitting room and drove a knife into my gut. "Sleeping with my woman, and you dare wear a suit this expensive?" He ripped my shirt into ribbons with a wild grin and threw sulfuric acid straight at me. The knife was buried deep in my abdomen. Pain ripped through me as I collapsed. He yanked my hair, forcing my head up. "Susan Lefebvre is my wife. What the hell are you? Just some filthy side piece hiding in the shadows!" Blood dripped from my fingertips as the truth sank in. The fiancée I'd loved for seven years had been cheating on me all along. "What are you staring at?" He sneered. "Even if I kill you, no one can touch me. My wife runs this city!" Watching that arrogant face twist in triumph, I took out my phone with a trembling, blood-soaked hand and dialed my sister. "Allison," I said, my voice cold and calm. "Come pick me up at the bridal salon. And tell the Lefebvres that the engagement is off."

Three days before my wedding, my younger sister staged a scene—one where I supposedly abandoned her in the mountains. She claimed I locked her in a cabin, left her to be nearly assaulted, and that she barely escaped with her life. Furious, my fiancé dragged me up the mountain and locked me in that same cabin. He said, "Wendy, a woman as vicious as you won't learn her lesson without punishment. I already told you I'd marry you. Why go after Chloe? Since you're so desperate to climb your way up, you can stay here until the wedding day." I begged him, over and over, but my scorched throat could only force out hoarse, grating sounds. Three days later, Mickey O'Brien stood at the altar in his suit, waiting for me. What he got instead was my remains.

My marriage to Dante, the Moretti heir, was meant to be a union of power, an alliance of empires. But for me, it was also the real deal. Then his adopted sister, Clara, showed up at a party. She was wearing his custom leather jacket, straddling his prized Ducati, and she looked right at me with a smirk. "Dante says," she purred, "that I suit these precious things better than you do." My smile froze. Dante had her on a plane overseas so fast it was like she'd never existed. Five years later, the night before our wedding. I found him staring at the design for our wedding rings. He'd changed the engraving. The "Amor Aeternus"—Eternal Love—was gone. In its place: "Mea culpa, mea maxima culpa." My sin, my greatest sin. I took off my veil right then and there. "The wedding," I said, my voice like ice, "is off."

The day before our wedding, I received an expensive suit from my wife. Not long after, her young lover called me, his voice trembling. "I'm sorry. It was my fault. My bad for mixing up your size. Please… please don't blame Sylvie." On the other end, I could hear Sylvie soothing him gently, patiently, until he calmed down. I stared at the plane ticket in my hand—a one-way trip out of the country—and calmly asked her for a divorce. Then, as if I no longer mattered, she left me with a single, cold sentence. "Just don't regret it."

When I became pregnant, my gravely ill mother mentioned that her final wish was to witness my wedding. My boyfriend, William Jones, finally agrees to marry me after I have been asking for 99 days. Yet, on the wedding day, he never shows up, even though I was waiting in my gown at the hotel the whole day. The truth only emerges when someone found his marriage certificate that he had posted a month earlier on social media. He married his childhood sweetheart, Caroline Ashton, during that time. When my mother learns this, the shock triggers a fatal attack. She passes away despite the doctors' efforts. William sends me a message. "I'm sorry, honey. Caroline twisted her ankle, so I had to take care of her. We'll have our wedding next month, okay? I promise I'll make it up to you this time." … A month later, William prepares a lavish, grand wedding just for me. Dressed in a custom-tailored suit, he waits at the hotel. Yet, all he receives is the report from my abortion procedure. There is only one sentence on the back—"William, this is goodbye forever."

"I love you, I really really do~ please marry me" I closed my eyes in fear as I kneeled in front of the devil itself who had his hands warped around the female lead. The next thing I knew I stood in the wedding hall wearing the white suit while in front of the Villain itself putting the ring on my finger. "Now I declare you as husband and hu-husband? you may kill your husband" It was supposed to be a straight Otome game where I was supposed to be dead while saving the FL. But here and I married to the villain itself. "WHEN DID IT TURN INTO BL?" I don't own the cover as I just did the editing of the art and credit goes to its owner