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Last Updated:
2025-03-11 19:58:56
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Capturing Viola: His Wife Is Mine Alone
Viola McCoy He didn’t show up. He never has. But this time, I really thought he would. A knot forms at the pit of my stomach. Why did I let myself hope this time? Maybe because I had woken up to Julian, my husband, holding a bouquet of flowers and waiting to hand them to me as soon as I’d woken up.Even though it’s my birthday, I hadn’t expected him to do something special for me. He’s not done something special for me in a long long time. But still, that simple gesture—coupled with the special dinner he’d said he planned for both of us this evening—had made me hope he really meant every word he said.But he didn’t. And now, I’m sitting alone at Chilvary Restaurant, staring at the untouched candle on my cake. I exhale slowly, forcing down the sting of humiliation. I can leave. I should leave. But instead, I continue to sit there, waiting, just like I always do. The restaurant doors swing open, and for a brief, stupid second, I think it’s him. It isn’t. The candle on my c
Last Updated : 2025-03-05Capturing Viola: His Wife Is Mine My Life
Viola McCoy I blink through my tears as I drive back home. A part of me is aching but another part of me isn’t surprised. Julian has had a few scandals with a few women over the years which he always denies. So I shouldn’t even feel anything.My grip tightens around the steering wheel as I step on the gas. The cool night air does nothing to make me feel better. What I should feel though, is the urge to run. But I also know I never will because leaving isn’t an option when you have nowhere to go.No family to run to. A spiteful step mother who wants nothing to do with me would never accept me. And my step siblings are no good either. I could run to my parents but they’re both up there. In heaven, probably watching their daughter settle for less and less everyday.So, yes, I keep driving. Past the streetlights, past my pride, past every version of me that deserved better.When I finally arrive at my home—a spiraling penthouse in the heart of Chicago, I let myself breath. Julian’
Last Updated : 2025-03-05Capturing Viola: His Wife Is Mine My Past
Viola McCoy The next morning, I wake up around 6am. I turn my head. The space next to me is untouched, the sheets are still smooth. Julian didn’t bother coming upstairs last night. As usual. I shrug, staring at the ceiling. My throat feels a bit sore and my eyelids are heavy. I should get more sleep before I get ready for the office. I still have an hour or so. But I can’t get myself to sleep. Instead, I grab my laptop on the nightstand, sitting up on my bed. I stare at the blinking cursor on my laptop screen for a while. Besides work, writing is the only thing that still belongs to me. The only thing Julian hasn’t controlled. And that’s probably because he doesn’t know about it, nobody does. To the world, I’m a faceless writer with the name Shortstuff002 whose words have reached thousands. My readers love my stories, waiting for each new chapter as if I hold the answers to their own heartbreaks. And maybe, just maybe their positive comments have kept me going until now.I
Last Updated : 2025-03-05Capturing Viola: His Wife Is Mine Logan Reynolds
Logan Reynolds Viola McCoy still holds her breath when she’s nervous. I shouldn’t have noticed that. Shouldn’t have remembered. But the second I said her name, I saw it—the way her shoulders tensed, the slight hitch in her throat. The way she refused to look at me. I want her to look at me. To say something. The girl I knew would have. She used to joke that her voice was made for radio and her face for the goddamn silver screen. Full lips, high cheekbones, curls that spilled over her tanned shoulders. Blue-gray eyes that always sparked with warmth. Skin that glowed like liquid silk in the sunlight. But that girl is gone. Her hair is straight now even though she used to say she hated straight hair because they were too basic and boring. Her eyes have lost its warmth. She wears crisp white shirts with an expression I can’t quite place.But I see through it. I don’t blame her for pretending I don’t exist. Maybe I don’t, not to her. Three years is a long time. Long e
Last Updated : 2025-03-05Capturing Viola: His Wife Is Mine The Call
Logan Reynolds“Well, you’re doing great for someone I underrated.” Grant says as he walks into my office. “Don’t overdo it because you’re running away from something.”He gives me one of his knowing looks and I hate that he knows me so well. I grit my teeth. He knows I’m burying myself with work on the first day so I don’t have to think about Viola. Grant takes a seat from across me, propping his elbows on my messy desk. “You can’t avoid her forever. Might as well just resolve the unresolved issues and move on.”I sneer at him, finally dropping the pen in my hand and giving him my full attention. “There’s no unresolved issue. Viola is in my past.”“But that past is somehow still infiltrating your present. How about you two have a nice chat and clear the air?.”“She doesn’t seem to want one.” I say. “You saw the way she ignored me.”“Well, she hates you, give or take.” Grant pinches the bridge of his nose. “Plus, she’s happily married. I’m sure she also wants clarity so it doesn’t
Last Updated : 2025-03-05Capturing Viola: His Wife Is Mine The Guest
Viola McCoy The city lights blur past me as I drive back home. It’s past 7pm and the hum of the engine is the only sound in the car. But my mind is loud, louder than ever.Logan is really back.He looks pretty much the same as he did three years ago. They say some people don’t age. He didn’t, he only grew taller with broader shoulders. My insides tighten anytime I remember the image of him from this morning. He was always the prototypical American golden boy with sandy hair, cornflower-blue eyes and a wide grin. But that doesn’t matter now because I’ve spent the whole day pretending he isn’t back. Pretending I didn’t see him, pretending his presence didn’t shake something loose inside me. But no amount of pretending can stop the truth from creeping in. He was there. Standing in front of me. Looking at me like I was some ghost from his past instead of a woman who had learned to survive without him. My phone buzzes in the cupholder. I glance down. Amirah. I already know why she’
Last Updated : 2025-03-11Capturing Viola: His Wife Is Mine Own
Viola McCoy My breath catches in my throat as Logan walks towards me. I school my features into indifference as his gaze meets mine. His gaze is steady and unreadable, but there’s something in his blue eyes—something I don’t dare decipher. “It’s good to see you again,” Logan says in familiar way that makes my chest tighten. Before I can even formulate a response, Julian’s arm snakes around my waist, pulling me against him. His grip is possessive, and his lips brush against my temple in a show of affection that doesn’t belong to us. Not really. “We must all be famished,” Julian announces. “Let’s eat first.” I swallow down whatever emotion is threatening to rise and let him lead me to the dining table. Logan settles across from us and I can’t help but notice the slight tension at the corner of his mouth. I force myself to focus on my plate. Dinner is silent. The kind of silence that isn’t comfortable or easy. My heart is pounding and I think they both would’ve heard
Last Updated : 2025-03-11
Latest chapter
Capturing Viola: His Wife Is Mine The Show
Logan Reynolds The second I walked through their door, I knew something was off. Viola barely looked at me, barely spoke. And Julian? He was trying too hard—too many pet names, too many little displays of affection that didn’t feel real. I’ve been around long enough to know that when a man has to prove he owns something, it’s because he’s not sure he owns it. Dinner was a damn performance. Julian putting on a show, Viola sitting there in silence, and me stuck watching something I never should’ve walked into. I shouldn’t have come. Whatever history Viola and I had, it’s clear I just made things worse for her tonight. The last thing I ever wanted was to make her uncomfortable in her own home. And yet… the way she looked at me. The way she didn’t look at Julian. Yeah. Something’s not right.But at least I know why Julian wanted me in his home. I’ve played these games before and I know he just wanted me to see that Viola belongs to him now. But Vi isn’t an object of possessi
Capturing Viola: His Wife Is Mine Own
Viola McCoy My breath catches in my throat as Logan walks towards me. I school my features into indifference as his gaze meets mine. His gaze is steady and unreadable, but there’s something in his blue eyes—something I don’t dare decipher. “It’s good to see you again,” Logan says in familiar way that makes my chest tighten. Before I can even formulate a response, Julian’s arm snakes around my waist, pulling me against him. His grip is possessive, and his lips brush against my temple in a show of affection that doesn’t belong to us. Not really. “We must all be famished,” Julian announces. “Let’s eat first.” I swallow down whatever emotion is threatening to rise and let him lead me to the dining table. Logan settles across from us and I can’t help but notice the slight tension at the corner of his mouth. I force myself to focus on my plate. Dinner is silent. The kind of silence that isn’t comfortable or easy. My heart is pounding and I think they both would’ve heard
Capturing Viola: His Wife Is Mine The Guest
Viola McCoy The city lights blur past me as I drive back home. It’s past 7pm and the hum of the engine is the only sound in the car. But my mind is loud, louder than ever.Logan is really back.He looks pretty much the same as he did three years ago. They say some people don’t age. He didn’t, he only grew taller with broader shoulders. My insides tighten anytime I remember the image of him from this morning. He was always the prototypical American golden boy with sandy hair, cornflower-blue eyes and a wide grin. But that doesn’t matter now because I’ve spent the whole day pretending he isn’t back. Pretending I didn’t see him, pretending his presence didn’t shake something loose inside me. But no amount of pretending can stop the truth from creeping in. He was there. Standing in front of me. Looking at me like I was some ghost from his past instead of a woman who had learned to survive without him. My phone buzzes in the cupholder. I glance down. Amirah. I already know why she’
Capturing Viola: His Wife Is Mine The Call
Logan Reynolds“Well, you’re doing great for someone I underrated.” Grant says as he walks into my office. “Don’t overdo it because you’re running away from something.”He gives me one of his knowing looks and I hate that he knows me so well. I grit my teeth. He knows I’m burying myself with work on the first day so I don’t have to think about Viola. Grant takes a seat from across me, propping his elbows on my messy desk. “You can’t avoid her forever. Might as well just resolve the unresolved issues and move on.”I sneer at him, finally dropping the pen in my hand and giving him my full attention. “There’s no unresolved issue. Viola is in my past.”“But that past is somehow still infiltrating your present. How about you two have a nice chat and clear the air?.”“She doesn’t seem to want one.” I say. “You saw the way she ignored me.”“Well, she hates you, give or take.” Grant pinches the bridge of his nose. “Plus, she’s happily married. I’m sure she also wants clarity so it doesn’t
Capturing Viola: His Wife Is Mine Logan Reynolds
Logan Reynolds Viola McCoy still holds her breath when she’s nervous. I shouldn’t have noticed that. Shouldn’t have remembered. But the second I said her name, I saw it—the way her shoulders tensed, the slight hitch in her throat. The way she refused to look at me. I want her to look at me. To say something. The girl I knew would have. She used to joke that her voice was made for radio and her face for the goddamn silver screen. Full lips, high cheekbones, curls that spilled over her tanned shoulders. Blue-gray eyes that always sparked with warmth. Skin that glowed like liquid silk in the sunlight. But that girl is gone. Her hair is straight now even though she used to say she hated straight hair because they were too basic and boring. Her eyes have lost its warmth. She wears crisp white shirts with an expression I can’t quite place.But I see through it. I don’t blame her for pretending I don’t exist. Maybe I don’t, not to her. Three years is a long time. Long e
Capturing Viola: His Wife Is Mine My Past
Viola McCoy The next morning, I wake up around 6am. I turn my head. The space next to me is untouched, the sheets are still smooth. Julian didn’t bother coming upstairs last night. As usual. I shrug, staring at the ceiling. My throat feels a bit sore and my eyelids are heavy. I should get more sleep before I get ready for the office. I still have an hour or so. But I can’t get myself to sleep. Instead, I grab my laptop on the nightstand, sitting up on my bed. I stare at the blinking cursor on my laptop screen for a while. Besides work, writing is the only thing that still belongs to me. The only thing Julian hasn’t controlled. And that’s probably because he doesn’t know about it, nobody does. To the world, I’m a faceless writer with the name Shortstuff002 whose words have reached thousands. My readers love my stories, waiting for each new chapter as if I hold the answers to their own heartbreaks. And maybe, just maybe their positive comments have kept me going until now.I
Capturing Viola: His Wife Is Mine My Life
Viola McCoy I blink through my tears as I drive back home. A part of me is aching but another part of me isn’t surprised. Julian has had a few scandals with a few women over the years which he always denies. So I shouldn’t even feel anything.My grip tightens around the steering wheel as I step on the gas. The cool night air does nothing to make me feel better. What I should feel though, is the urge to run. But I also know I never will because leaving isn’t an option when you have nowhere to go.No family to run to. A spiteful step mother who wants nothing to do with me would never accept me. And my step siblings are no good either. I could run to my parents but they’re both up there. In heaven, probably watching their daughter settle for less and less everyday.So, yes, I keep driving. Past the streetlights, past my pride, past every version of me that deserved better.When I finally arrive at my home—a spiraling penthouse in the heart of Chicago, I let myself breath. Julian’
Capturing Viola: His Wife Is Mine Alone
Viola McCoy He didn’t show up. He never has. But this time, I really thought he would. A knot forms at the pit of my stomach. Why did I let myself hope this time? Maybe because I had woken up to Julian, my husband, holding a bouquet of flowers and waiting to hand them to me as soon as I’d woken up.Even though it’s my birthday, I hadn’t expected him to do something special for me. He’s not done something special for me in a long long time. But still, that simple gesture—coupled with the special dinner he’d said he planned for both of us this evening—had made me hope he really meant every word he said.But he didn’t. And now, I’m sitting alone at Chilvary Restaurant, staring at the untouched candle on my cake. I exhale slowly, forcing down the sting of humiliation. I can leave. I should leave. But instead, I continue to sit there, waiting, just like I always do. The restaurant doors swing open, and for a brief, stupid second, I think it’s him. It isn’t. The candle on my c
