When To Use Whomever Romane & Geschichten

To help cover our household expenses, I often sold second-hand items online. Late one night, a new listing suddenly appeared under my husband's account. [Private trainer for sale. Almost new. Obedient and resilient. No upkeep required. Cash only.] The attached photo showed a woman from behind, caught in the middle of a yoga pose. The red mole at her waist stood out clearly. It was me. The comments section erupted within seconds. Men with usernames like 'LocalHunter' started bidding aggressively. [Five hundred. Thirty minutes. Pickup only. No negotiations.] [Are you kidding? Two thousand. All night. I'll bring my own gear.] My husband immediately replied to the highest bidder: Adrian 'The Butcher' Kane. [Deal. She's in the bedroom. The door isn't locked. Go straight in.] In the next moment, the bedroom doorknob slowly began to turn from the other side.

The Moretti Family's Thanksgiving party was in full swing downstairs—crystal clinks, fake laughs, classic mafia gloss. Meanwhile, I was curled up in a servant's room on the third floor. Jackson Moretti's wife. Legally, anyway. My hands were ice. I gripped the ultrasound report like it could anchor me. Three heartbeats. Strong, steady. It was supposed to be a surprise—his big Thanksgiving gift. To the outside world, Jackson was a polished Stanford grad, running a top-tier consulting firm in San Francisco. But behind the scenes? He ran the Moretti empire—cold, calculated, pulling strings in the West Coast's darkest corners. Three years of marriage and we barely spoke, but I still clung to the hope that maybe... maybe there was something real left. Then I heard him downstairs. "You really not letting your wife come down?" "Isabella?" He laughed. "She'd kill the vibe." Another voice chimed in. "Lina's back, right? Wild you married her twin. Which one do you actually like?" Jackson didn't miss a beat. "Isabella's just a stand-in. Quiet. Predictable. I could tell her to drop dead and she'd say 'okay.'" "So when are you ditching her?" "Dunno. She thinks she matters. I'm just playing her." I slapped a hand over my mouth to muffle the sob. A minute later, I was heading downstairs, numb. I brushed my fingers over my belly. "Sorry, babies," I whispered. Triplets. His. He thought I was blind. Weak. Stuck. What he didn't know? A quiet woman, once she snaps—she can burn it all down.

I had been on a business trip overseas for less than six months when I suddenly received a call from the hospital. "Mr. Jones, your wife is having a difficult labor. Should we proceed with a C-section or try to continue with a natural delivery?" The words hit me like a bolt of lightning. I stood there, frozen. When I left, my wife had not shown any sign of pregnancy. How could she be giving birth less than six months later? I quickly dialed her number. The moment the call connected, I heard her cries of pain. "Honey, what's wrong?" From the other end of the line, I could hear a nurse urging her to push harder. However, my wife forced her voice to sound calm. "Sweetheart, I just slipped and fell a moment ago. It's nothing serious. You should keep focusing on your business trip. Don't worry about me." As I listened, the faint sound of a baby crying filtered through the phone. My grip tightened so hard around the phone that it nearly cracked. "Is that so? Then, get some rest," I said calmly. After hanging up, I immediately called my father, the richest man in the country. "Dad, Rebecca's cheating on me. She's in the delivery room right now, having another man's child. Stop all investments in the Harris family immediately. I want her thrown out with nothing to her name."

After living under the same roof with his in-laws for four devastating years, Zayn Larson finally realized who it was that made all his sacrifices worthwhile. One day he would return the top, and none would stand in his way. It was all because he had his true love who wanted to lay in his arms beneath the sparkling sky.

*Warning: Story contains mature 18+ sexual scene so read at your own risk..." "See Ella, you know I am straightforward. So I am telling this directly you should please us both in the bed starting from today. In a simple sense, you have to be our mistress..." When Ella's ex boyfriends break into her apartment and forced her to be their Mistress, her life changed forever.

I'm three months pregnant when my husband, a doctor, personally performs an abortion for me. I can see the fetus in the trash can. Chuck Gross uses his doctor's coat to block Valerie Green's curious eyes. "Don't look, Val. You'll get nightmares." After the abortion, he throws a few tissues at me, looking icy. Then, he leaves with Valerie. Later, when Chuck learns the truth, he bursts into agonized tears. "Can we not get a divorce? Please?"

Nina Romano thought she was stepping into a world of power and intrigue, but she had no idea just how dangerous it could get. Drawn into the orbit of Dante Moretti, a ruthless and calculating mafia heir, she quickly discovers that desire can be as deadly as betrayal. When someone from Dante’s inner circle betrays him, Nina and Dante are thrust into a war that tests their loyalty, their courage, and the depth of their passion. Each chapter escalates the stakes: ambushes, shocking betrayals, and high-stakes mafia conflicts collide with a simmering, dangerous desire between them. Nina must navigate a world where nothing and no one is as it seems, and Dante must confront his past, his enemies, and the unexpected intensity of his feelings for her. From steamy, sensual encounters to heart-pounding action, Controlled Damage is a tale of trust, power, and temptation. When the shadows close in, Nina and Dante must decide whether their love is worth the ultimate risk — or whether the war will tear them apart first.

After two years of development, my game finally launched successfully. My wife had promised me a $75,000 bonus, but instead, she gave the entire $750,000 payout to her male secretary, Wayne. All she tossed me was a $50 grocery coupon. "You're just a stay-at-home husband," she said casually. "You don't spend much. Go buy some groceries and cook dinner." I stared at her in disbelief. "That money is for our son's transplant surgery," I said. "If it's delayed for even a few days, he'll die." Her expression did not change. "He's weak. If he dies, he dies," she said flatly. "At least you won't bring any more bad luck into the office and pass it on to Wayne." She turned away, her tone instantly brightening as she talked about taking Wayne out that night to celebrate with a lavish dinner worth tens of thousands of dollars. In that instant, my heart froze. She had forgotten one thing. The game might be registered under her name, but I still held the core encryption key. I picked up the phone and called a rival company. "You've been trying to get Genyxis's core technology for a long time, haven't you?" I asked calmly. "All I want is $75,000, and it’ll be yours.”

I was diagnosed with stomach cancer and needed a total gastrectomy. My husband, who was hailed as a rising star in the medical field, personally performed the surgery on me. However, after the operation, my health only worsened. He told me that the cancer had spread too quickly, and there was no hope left. It was not until I accidentally came across a hidden medical report and a massive insurance policy that I learned the truth—I never had stomach cancer. Not only had he removed my stomach, but he had also taken my uterus. Desperate, I confronted him, asking why he did that to me. He held his mistress in his arms, looking at me with disgust as he said, "If your father weren't the director, do you think I would've married you? You're not even worthy of being in the same room as Mabel. After one more surgery to remove your stomach, I'll be promoted to chief physician. "Didn't you claim to love me so much? I'm just using your body to help me and Mabel get ahead... I'm doing you a favor." Then, he and his mistress threw me off the building, making it look like a suicide. When I opened my eyes again, I had gone back to the day of my stomach surgery.

I was getting married, but my boyfriend of five years did not know it yet. Lately, he had been driving a female coworker home every night and coming back late. She had a terrible memory and was always leaving things behind in his car. First it was earrings. Then adhesive bra inserts. Then intimate photos. One night, at midnight, she called to say she had left her allergy medication in his car. My boyfriend pulled his pants back on and rushed out the door to deliver it to her. Because of her, our wedding had already been postponed 19 times. After five years together, I decided to give him one last chance. "Either stop driving her home, or the wedding is off." He stayed silent all night. After that, he actually started coming home on time. I thought things were finally getting better. Then, one week before the wedding, I opened the front door and found half the furniture in our living room gone. The woman next door poked her head out and ran a hand over my washing machine with a smile. "Amanda, we're neighbors now. Ignatius loaned me the money to buy a house. He said I could use some of these old appliances until I get settled." My hands trembled as I opened my banking app. The $300,000 wedding fund we had spent five years saving was gone. Every last cent. This time, I did not even have the strength to argue. Then my mother called. "Sweetheart, how would you feel about moving the wedding to Rose Garden? I think your current venue doesn't do you justice." I looked around the half-empty living room and laughed. "Sure. And while we're at it, let's replace the groom too." After all, my mother had remarried into one of the wealthiest families in the country. My five stepbrothers had been waiting years for me to come home. And among the men around them who wanted to marry me? There was no shortage of candidates.