Novel & Cerita Wife For Rent

“I know. I just… I don’t know how.” The doctor hesitated, then pulled a small card from his pocket. “Look, I’m not supposed to do this, but a patient’s family mentioned something last week. There’s an agency that handles unusual arrangements. High paying ones. They call it spouse rental. Legal contracts for people who need money quick. Might be worth a call if you’re truly desperate.” Lina stared at the plain white card with only a phone number and the words “Elite Matches – Contract Services.” “Spouse rental? Like… fake marriage?”

“Single omegas. Men are coming in all hours. Disturbances. I don’t care what you do, but my other tenants—” “She’s my wife,” Daire said. The landlord’s eyes flicked to him, then back to me, unconvinced. “Sure,” he said. “Just making sure we’re all clear. Rent is fixed, but we charge extra for—” He didn’t get to finish. “Listen carefully,” Daire said, stepping between us. His voice didn’t rise. It dropped, low and dangerous. The landlord’s breath stuttered.

she was getting nervous. Raymond could see this in her face and replied, "if we don't live together, how would my family believe that it's real marriage?" this wasn't the agreement, she thought to herself. "I still share the rent, what if she can't find another roommate?" I will pay the rent until she doesn't want to live there anymore if need be. "his eyes focused on hers. " do not have any other questions?"

Wendy asserted that her decision appears to be complete. I was stunned by what she said, which made me stare at her. This is the first time I have met a woman who is not looking for money, fame, or pleasure from me, but she wants a REAL LOVE. Unlike her friend. And for that reason, I'd rather convince her to continue our pretense because I'm sure she won't fool me, and she won't make me look ridiculous in front of many people. It's just me who is, but I'm going to make sure that this woman won't get hurt once she gets married to me. I will protect her at all costs because she's for keeps. I can say that the man she will marry in the future, her future husband, is lucky.

In our world, weakness isn’t a conversation—it's a death sentence. Ryan strolled in, looking as self-assured as ever. "Still don’t understand your sudden marriage move, boss. To someone else’s wife, no less. You did the whole thing in her absence, and now the word’s out. Everyone knows you’re married." He settled into the chair across from me, raising an eyebrow.

“I don’t want to see you with my husband again. I don’t care about how you gonna raise your child. I’ve disowned you.” I grabbed my bag and turned to leave. Then she spoke. “You think he loves you?” she sneered. “He doesn’t. He loves me. You were nothing but his trophy wife.”

A week ago, the news broke that I'd filed a lawsuit against my wife of more than 20 years, Hazel Cooper, the woman who had shared my bed and my life for over half my adulthood. From that moment on, I became the neighborhood's favorite villain. Everyone called me the heartless man who had climbed his way to success and abandoned his wife and child without remorse. In their eyes, Hazel was flawless. She'd married me when I was poor and struggling. She never complained, even when life was hard. She cared for my sickly mother until her final days. She raised our son almost entirely on her own and turned him into a top student, the kind every family boasted about.

I never break my rules. Not for money. Not for loyalty. And certainly not for anyone else’s wife. Yet here I was, standing in a room where power whispered from every corner. The polished mahogany tables gleamed under soft chandeliers, men in tailored suits whispered deals, and yet all I could see was her. Selene Hawthorne moved through the crowd like a storm contained within elegance — untouchable, graceful, and utterly oblivious to the chaos she’d already sown inside me.

He doesn’t even spare me a glance. “Lena is not a slave, and I need her to…” “Go” he cuts me off. “The woman would not be leaving.” “But…” “That’s final. Now leave Maria.” Walter roars with laughter along with the scantily dressed women perched on his laps. “Dear me! I’ve heard about the way you discipline the women in your household, but I didn’t think it extended to even your wife.” Cheeks burning in humiliation, I hurry out of the room with Walter’s maid before Sebastain can say something worse.

Just: CONTRACT AGREEMENT – TEMPORARY DOMESTIC PARTNER Clause after clause detailed living arrangements, public appearances, press discretion, and emotional boundaries. He barely made it halfway through before slamming it shut. Who the hell was this woman? He crept toward the guest room. The door was cracked open. Inside, Luna was seated by the window, her back to him, staring out at the snowy garden. She was humming something low melancholy and haunting. He left without a word. For now, all he had were questions. And a stranger living in his home, sleeping down the hall wearing the title of “wife.”