روايات وقصص ضمن Wife Forgotten A Novella

The kind gay couple who once helped a desperate girl work at their cafe never met her. Theila never met the girl who she helped sneak into the ritual. Verya never met the woman who looked so much like her late Luna. And the Alphas... They never met Lilith. Never met their mate. Never met the girl who changed their lives. Never met the innocent little maid who smiled despite having nothing. History rewrote itself. Piece by piece. Moment by moment. Everything vanished. Everything disappeared. Everything except the feelings left behind. The love. The grief. The emptiness.

Outside, the wind moved through the trees like an old friend returning. No longer a storm just soft and free. -------------------------------- Because some love stories aren’t made of grand beginnings… They’re made of the courage to begin again. And again. And always. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Author’s Note: By Ernest Brooks Dear beloved reader, When I first began writing The Billionaire’s Forgotten Wife, I thought I was telling a story about loss of memory, of identity, of trust. But as the chapters unfolded, I realized it wasn’t just about what had been forgotten… it was about what could be remembered, rebuilt,

'' Novella Novella walked out of the room with her in pieces there was once a time she was deeply in love with Kanji. Two years ago Novella Committed a sin to save Kanji from Debt Collector there was a time where kanji was on addictive drugs. it was an impossible situation Novella Hid this from her Parent she would offend pay off his debts. But when she couldn't pay in gold she had to pay by other memes. The Result end up saving Kanji's Life but it broke their relationship but the truth was they were both still in love with one another.

I was filled with a sense of revulsion so overwhelming it almost knocked me onto the ground. "I am done," I said, breathless. "We are done. Whatever sick game you were playing, whatever delusion led you to believe this would work, done." I stepped toward the door, not wanting to turn around, to allow her permission to spin another lie, play another emotion. Only the woman in another room could be explained then. The lady who passed away on her deathbed as a result of Felicia's deceit and jealousy. Nova. My wife. The one that mattered.

He pointed a finger in my face and growled, "You stalked me, Wisteria? I thought you were just childish, but you're worse than that! You checked my schedule behind my back?" I held the headstone as I struggled to get back up. Jackie was twisting the story, and all I felt was bitter sadness. Before this, I couldn't stop telling my friends how loyal he was for keeping his dead first love in mind for so long. Yvonne's pictures were everywhere in his study. He said he could not bring himself to throw them away, so I cleaned the frames whenever I could. I thought, 'A man this loyal won't betray me.' During Yvonne's deathday, I gave him time to remember her. Now it felt ironic. His loyalty was a s

She denied us in front of everyone and watched while I was beaten half to death. At that time, she hadn't moved at all. Maybe I was never part of her world. Maybe I was never someone she truly loved. The thought of marrying her again made me sick. I shoved her away, not bothering to hide it. "I've wanted to forget all of that for a long time. Don't flatter yourself. Divorced or not, I'm not going back. Got it?" She started to say something else, but I called the nurse in and had her taken out.

I made a mental note to come down to check up on the man later on once I could finally think straight. The maid, Fiona, followed behind me with my luggage and only stopped when she set them in the walk-in closet, she then walked out, hands held politely in front of her. “Is there anything else you need, Mrs. Wellington?” Wellington. I was beginning to hate the fucking name. My lips quivered as I heard the sound of it. His wife. I was his wife. “No, thanks,” I said. Not looking away from the maid's eyes, too scared that eye contact with another person would make me cry.

That night, Isabella lay awake. Her body remembered every look. Every almost-touch. Her phone buzzed again. Another anonymous message. He will choose his world over you. She stared at the screen. Then typed one sentence and deleted it. She didn’t need to answer anyone. Not tonight. Not ever. Outside, the city kept breathing. And somewhere between desire and danger, everything was about to change.

a woman in a silk dress murmured to her friend just inches from me, and the other woman nodded while sipping her drink, adding, "It's a shame about that girl he's actually married to, the one who tricked the grandmother into the match, because you can clearly see who he actually belongs with." ​I gripped the edge of my glass so hard my knuckles turned white, because for three years I had endured these whispers while staying silent. When I first married Slade, I actually believed that if I worked hard enough, if I cooked every meal, handled the laundry, and anticipated every whim of his parents and sister, they would eventually see me as one of them. I had spent the first year acting like an