The Secret Life of a Stepford Wife

THE SECRET LIFE OF A STEPFORD WIFE ELLE SPARROW Copyright © 2023 by Elle Sparrow All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review. Cover Design by Cover Couture www.bookcovercourture.com CONTENTS Author’s Note Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Chapter 14 Chapter 15 Chapter 16 Chapter 17 Chapter 18 Chapter 19 Chapter 20 Chapter 21 Chapter 22 About the Author To those who support us and remind us of who we truly are when we have forgotten. AUTHOR’S NOTE This book contains scenes and references of adult content, explicit sexual content, trauma, mentions of graphic violence, abuse, and depictions of abortion and pregnancy loss. It contains polyamorous relationships with consenting partners. No cheating. This book also contains graphic scenes involving BDSM. This includes discussion and scenes involving pegging, electrical play in the form of violet wands, degradation and humiliation, and heavy amounts of praise and dirty talk. Read safely, and proceed with caution. CHAPTER 1 Secrets are a funny thing. When you know a secret, it gives you power over people. When you keep a secret, you run the risk of giving everyone else power over you. And sometimes, when you live a secret for long enough, you begin to question which one is which. That’s what my life felt like. Like a secret only revealed to me after years of failure and hardship. It was never supposed to be like this. My life, that is. Growing up in a house that was more of a hovel than a home in rural Ohio, I could never have imagined myself in my current living situation with a husband like Jamie. He was everything and nothing I had ever wanted, all wrapped up in one perfect human being. One day I was working as hard as I could be, studying for my final at Ohio University and the next, my entire life changed. All because of a hacky-sack. Yup, that’s what I said. A hacky-sack. Who even uses those anymore? Jamie, that’s who. Not to be cool, not to fit in with a crowd; hell there wasn’t even a crowd around him! There he was, entirely alone, messing around with a hacky-sack, when he misjudged a kick and hit me straight in the face. My face! In all his awkward glory, James Day stood before me, and my life would never be the same. Our life was a good one; a typical one by anyone’s standards. The years we spent dating were purely average, and utterly perfect. Jamie showed me every day what it was to be myself and, more importantly, what it was to be truly supported by another person. I was used to men who came into my life with an agenda, wanting to showboat and talk a big game, to tout their successes and have me fix their losses for them. I was used to men who wanted to use me as a way to build themselves up — all the while putting in little to no work to better my life in return. In short, I was used to assholes. But Jamie was different. Jamie came into my life, not like a great and forceful hurricane, but like a welcoming breeze that wraps itself around your body and carries you from moment to moment. He was unassuming, humble, and one of the purest, kindest souls I had ever met. Fast forward ten blissful years later, and life could not have been better. We had moved to California right after graduating from college. Jamie had taken a job with a tech firm in the northern part of the state and had quickly worked his way up the ranks. We bought a beautiful home in the suburbs, and our life was exactly what we had hoped it would be: perfect, quiet, and unassuming. “Good morning, Grace. It’s a beautiful day, isn’t it?” I called to one of my neighbors as I walked down the end of our driveway towards the stone crafted mailbox, my heels clicking an orderly, staccato rhythm. One must look her best in public after all, no matter how brief the outing might be. The sun was already shining brightly in the morning sky, though it was only just past seven. “Good morning, Sadie! Yes, it’s absolutely gorgeous. I’m heading out for a run here in a few if you’d like to join me,” she offered. I shook my head, waving her invitation away. “Not this morning. I have things to bake and I want to give it plenty of time to rest before Jamie gets home for dinner tonight,” I explained with a smile. “I’m assuming you’re making a pie. Your pies are legendary, dear. I’m sure Jamie will be ecstatic to come home to such a treat,” she said with a laugh. “Oh, he will be,” I agreed. “You spoil that man, Sadie Day,” she said, teasing me with a wink as she turned back towards her own house. “Don’t I know it!” I called back. I opened the mailbox, surprised at the number of items today. Sifting through the pile of ads, fliers, and random magazine subscriptions, I searched until I found the stack of actual letters. Those in hand, I made my way back up to the front door. Bills. Bills. And — oh good! — a letter from Pamela! I quickly shut the front door and made my way to the kitchen, setting the other mail in the basket in the entryway and opening her letter as I walked through. It was a lengthy one, full of details about my best friend’s life and escapades in love in the Big Apple. I pulled my cell from my