Wife Ghost Novels & Stories

In the moonlight, a woman in a white lace dress was kneeling on the stone steps of the chapel, her face buried in her hands, her shoulders trembling. She had no feet. Below her dress, there was only a swirling black mist. "I see her." Lorenzo let out a low whistle. "Two years ago, Marco put her in the ground right there. Her ashes are buried under the rose bushes behind the chapel." I didn't stop, walking straight toward the chapel. Giovanni froze behind me but didn't dare to call out. As I reached the bottom of the steps, the female ghost's head snapped up. She lunged at me, her face a sickly pale green, her eye sockets empty black pits.

"Fight it. I don't care how much it burns, or how heavy the shadows feel. You fight it for me. I am your wife, and I am commanding you to return." She waited, her gaze locked on his face, searching for the slightest flutter of an eyelid, a twitch of a muscle, anything to suggest he heard her. Nothing. The silence in the room was absolute, amplified by the heavy stone walls. Suddenly, a chill swept through the room, sharp enough to frost the glass of the bedside carafe. The pearl in her hand began to pulse with a sickly, rhythmic light. Gianna gasped, pulling back as a hazy, ethereal form began to coalesce at the foot of the bed. It wasn't the welcoming, benevolent ghost she had imagined, but

She leaned back into him gratefully, letting him support her weight, and felt his chin come to rest on the top of her head. Whitmore slid the paper toward them, tapping a specific section. "Nineteen twenty-three, a woman named Elizabeth Hartwell made a bargain with a death entity—ten years to save her dying child. When the ten years were nearly up, she discovered a text, an old grimoire that had been in her family for generations. In it was a single line that changed everything." Seraphine felt Lucien's breath catch, felt the way his arms tightened around her middle almost convulsively. "What did it say?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper, as if speaking too loudly might shatter th

Agatha rushed to place her hands-on Kira’s shoulders to prevent her from rising up out of the coffin while she shouted to Tim and Edwin, “Ye men need to stand back now. She is a vampire who has been without blood for several centuries. I must have a chance to be with her before she sees ye.”

My eyes were fixated on the witch at the top of the stairs thinking of all the ways I could kill her. 'Her blood will taste amazing,' Cinnabar was huffing and pacing in my mind. He was the only reason I'd made small progress of moving my arms. We could feel through the connection that Eloise was in pain. She was distressed. 'The pups,' my wolf growled out. A snarl ripped through my lips sounding muffled but loud enough to make the witch turn to us once again. She rolled her orange eyes at me stepping down the stairs with her arms crossed.

My wife, Lily Tanner, is a mortician. She's trying to avoid getting fired during her pregnancy, so she keeps locking herself in the morgue. I may be her husband and colleague, but even I am not allowed inside. I don't want her to work too hard, so in the middle of the night, I sneak into the morgue to do her checks for her. However, she reacts by going berserk and sounding the alarm. Ever since then, I've been very careful around her, fearing that it may affect her pregnancy. Later on, with Lily repeatedly receiving praise from the deceased's family, our department decides to hold a commendation ceremony for her. The whole family seems relieved. However, as soon as Lily receives her a

The Ghost is my father's former lover, a crazy woman who is power-hungry even in death. My father, warned me about the restless of the Ghost of the forest, the woman he once loved. She planned to murder my father on their wedding night and consume his soul. When the plot was revealed the Wolf People Clan put her to death and she's been wreaking havoc on the world ever since her dying day. But now she has Lucia, a foolish girl, a pon in her schemes.

Ghost and Betrayal Bella searched desperately for her husband, but he was nowhere to be found. Instead, on the street, she glimpsed a ghostly figure. Her hands trembled as she dialled David’s number after receiving the photos and videos, but there was no trace of him. Exhausted, she finally decided to go home. Bella climbed into her car and drove back. As she stepped inside her house, a terrifying figure appeared—a large woman, her face twisted with vengeance, her eyes piercing and unforgiving.

“It’s a spirit, yes, but not the kind you might think. It’s not a simple ghost. A wraith is born from agony—pure, uncontrollable anger and resentment. When someone dies in such a way, with so much hatred and pain in their heart, they don’t just fade away. They linger. They transform into something... else.” I felt the air around us thicken as Alice's words hung in the space. Caroline’s grip tightened on my hand, and I could see her swallowing hard, trying to process what Alice was saying. “But... What exactly does that mean? What is it?” she asked, her voice growing more urgent now. The others leaned in, waiting for Alice’s next words, afraid of what they might hear but unable to pull away.

His eyes glowed a brilliant red, and in that moment, I knew that nothing would ever be the same again. As the ritual concluded, Cassius turned to a mysterious figure lurking in the shadows of the mansion. As she stepped into the light, her enchanting beauty was revealed, adorned in a flowing witches' robe and a pointed hat. I recognized her instantly as Agatha, a witch who had visited the mansion on numerous occasions, her purpose clear – she desired the potent blood of Cassius, a elixir with the power to cure almost any ailment.