Married To My Ex-Fiancé's Silent Uncle

Twenty minutes before the "Wedding of the Century" at The Plaza, I stood outside the Presidential Suite in a fifty-thousand-dollar Vera Wang gown. I was the girl from a West Virginia trailer park about to marry Hugh Maxwell, the golden heir to a billion-dollar defense empire. I pushed the door open only to find Hugh pinned against the bed with my own stepsister, Floy. She was wearing my bridal diamond necklace, and the sounds of their laughter scraped against my eardrums like sandpaper. I didn't scream; I listened as Hugh grunted that once the wedding was over and the trust fund unlocked, he'd dump "that hillbilly trash" on a bus back to the mountains. They weren't just cheating; they were planning to steal my family's land deeds and leave me with nothing. When I set off the sprinklers and exposed their naked bodies to the paparazzi, the Maxwell family didn't apologize. They called me a "greedy peasant" and threatened to ruin my life unless I signed a new deal to save their crashing stock. I realized then that I was never a bride to them. I was a transaction, a rounding error in a ledger to be used and discarded. They thought my poverty made me weak and my silence made me a victim. "If we don't have a marriage certificate by midnight, the bank freezes thirty percent of our liquidity," their lawyer warned. So, I gave them exactly what they wanted. I used a loophole in their hundred-year-old family covenant and married the only other direct heir available. I didn't marry Hugh. I walked into the ICU and married his uncle, Fleet Maxwell-the legendary war hero who had been in a vegetative state for months. Now, I am the matriarch of the Maxwell dynasty. I've suspended Hugh's executive powers, exiled my mother-in-law to the Swiss Alps, and taken control of the family vault. They think I'm just a gold-digger waiting for a "corpse" to die so I can collect a fifty-million-dollar widow's payout. But last night, as I lay beside my comatose husband, the man they called a vegetable gripped my hand back.

Modern Scheming Contract marriage Billionaires

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"Philip, this is the divorce agreement. I've already signed it. Please give it to Carlos."

Debbie Nelson plucked up her courage and handed the signed agreement to Philip Brown, the steward of the Hilton family.

Philip was shocked by the words "divorce agreement". His first thought was that Debbie wanted to get a divorce so as to carve up the property that belonged to Carlos Hilton.

But as he looked through the document, he saw that she wanted to give up everything, including her share of the mutual property.

Philip heaved a heavy sigh. "Debbie, why are you being ridiculous? Why would you want to divorce Mr. Hilton and even choose to give up your property?"

Debbie was only a college student, and she had no parents. It was unwise for her to ask for a divorce now, much less give up her property that was worth quite a fortune.

Embarrassed, Debbie looked away and scratched the back of her head. "Carlos and I have been married for three years, but our marriage only exists on paper. I don't want to waste my time on him anymore," she admitted, instead of hiding the reason from Philip.

She had a life of her own. She did not want this nominal marriage to take her youth.

In her eyes, Carlos was merely a stranger whom she had never met literally, so she had nothing to lose if she let him go. Besides, this marriage was arranged by her late parents. She had no feelings for it at all.

"I see. It seems that you've already made up your mind. Today... No. I will give this to Mr. Hilton tomorrow."

Debbie let out a sigh of relief. "Thank you, Philip," she uttered with a lovely smile on her face.

Philip stood up to leave. But before he took a step, he turned to Debbie and stated, "Debbie, Mr. Hilton is a good man. In my opinion, you two are a perfect match. I hope you think it through again."

'A perfect match?' Debbie repeated in her mind. But she had not even seen her husband in the past three years. Even if they were a perfect match, so what?

A bitter smile formed on her lips. She took a deep breath and firmly replied, "Phillip, I've made up my mind."

The next afternoon, Phillip still had not received a call from Debbie. He had expected her to regret her hasty decision to get a divorce or at least add some conditions to the agreement. However, she did not.

Resigned, Philip took out his phone and dialed a number. As soon as he was connected to Carlos, he said, "Mr. Hilton, there's a document that needs your signature."

"What kind of document?" Carlos asked indifferently.

Philip hesitated for a moment before answering, "It's... a divorce agreement."

Carlos, who was dealing with some papers in his office, stiffened.

It was only then that he remembered he had a wife.

As Phillip received no response from the other end of the line, he suggested, "Mr. Hilton, why don't you talk with Mrs. Hilton about it?"

"How much does she want?" Carlos asked coldly.

"Nothing. She even wishes to give up her share of your mutual property."

"She wants to give up everything?"

"That's right. But Mr. Hilton, I would like to remind you that your father is not in good health at the moment. If he finds out about this, he will lose his temper again. What's more, if the news that your wife has abandoned you spreads, I'm afraid it will leave a bad impact on you and the company," Philip concluded calmly.

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