Wife With Stranger Novels & Stories

“You’re not a problem. You’re my wife. I built all this for us.” “For us?” She gave a short, sharp laugh, then turned away and back to him. “This house feels like a hotel where I check in alone every night. You walk through the door like a stranger.” He reached out and gently held her wrist. His thumb touched the skin where the ring should be. “Stay in our room tonight. We’ll talk. Really talk.” Sophia pulled her hand away but didn’t step back. She looked at his tired eyes, his slumped shoulders. “You say that every time. Then the phone rings and you’re gone again.”

I hung up the phone and slammed the speedboat's throttle all the way down. When the boat hit the beach, the dock was as chaotic as a flea market. In the crowd, my sister, Emily Lambert, was curled up on the ground, her clothes disheveled and her appearance completely wrecked. She clutched her chest, gasping for air, her pale, sickly face streaked with tears. The island's steward, Marcus Jenner, lifted his foot and kicked her without hesitation. "Little brat, didn't you hear me tell you to get lost? Don't you know whose place this is!"

The noise pulled a growing crowd, everyone drifting over to gawk. Across the room, satisfaction flickered briefly across Cassandra's face. She caught Julian's arm before he could cross toward the commotion, feigning worry. "What's going on over there? Is that... Eleanor?" The woman was carted off by ambulance, and a new headline hit trending status within the hour: WIFE ATTACKS MISTRESS ENDS UP KICKING HER INTO THE HOSPITAL. UNBELIEVABLE. The woman's name was Rachel Sparks. Dale Quinn's wife, and connected enough that her family carried real weight.

Adrian was behind her, one hand gripping her hip, the other squeezing her breast, his face twisted in pleasure. "Fuck," he groaned. "God, I love your tits. So much better than—" "Shut up," Maribel hissed, cutting him off. "Don't wake her." But Adrian kept going, kept squeezing, kept moving, and I watched from the shadows of the balcony as my fiancé fucked my best friend on the couch where we watched movies together. The scene was familiar. Horribly, devastatingly familiar. Like déjà vu, except I knew exactly why. I'd walked in on this before. In my first life, at the estate, the positions were different. The location was different.

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.

she exclaimed, her mouth agape with surprise. She hadn't expected the stranger to agree so easily, but she was relieved he did. “Isn't that what you wanted?” he asked. His tone was cool, but his eyes lingered on her a moment too long, unreadable. The subtle amusement on Sophia's face immediately disappeared and she sealed her lips. Without another word, they stumbled toward his car, drawing even more stares. Once they were inside, Liam twisted the key and the car sprang to life. And so, the bloody, battered bride and the bewildered stranger drove off toward City Hall, leaving the gawking onlookers behind.

“Let her through.” The guard hesitated, but after a moment, he let me go. “Are you okay?” the stranger asked, his voice gentle. I nodded, still in shock. “Thank you. I… I don’t know who you are, but thank you.” He smiled slightly. “Let’s just say I don’t like seeing anyone treated unfairly.” We walked inside together, and I turned to thank him again, but before I could, a voice cut through the air like a knife. “What the hell are you doing with my wife?”

His eyes met Vitali's, and a hint of confusion flashed in his eyes. Vitali's eyes were blazing with fury, his face twisted with rage. The stranger knew he was in trouble., I could feel how stiffened he was "Who are you?" Vitali spat, his voice menacing. The stranger swallowed hard, trying to stand his ground. "I'm just a guy who was dancing with her,"he replied, trying to sound calm. Vitali's eyes narrowed. "You're just a guy who's going to get hurt if you don't stay the hell awayfrom my wife."

Strangely, it had gone undetected, which made the situation troubling. The man’s expression remained impassive. His eyes indicated that his thoughts were wandering. Suddenly, he remembered something that oddly troubled him. The man immediately stood up and left his office. As he passed through the main area of his home, he saw his wife sitting on the sofa, intently watching the TV. Her face clearly showed she was deeply focused on something. Jaxter, who had initially intended to head to the company he had left for several days, briefly diverted his steps toward his wife, curious about what was capturing her attention. The guards who had been following him paused in the hallway. "What are you

I shouted. “Its Jana!” My eyes widen when I saw my wife at the door. "Wife!" "Hi there husband." She said then smirked