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 CEO Flash Marriage Revenge Age Gap

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Chapter 1: A New Beginning

Aria Whitaker stood at the gates of Silverstone Academy, her heart pounding against her ribs. The towering stone walls, covered in ivy, loomed before her like something out of a fairytale. The faint hum of magic in the air made her feel like she didn't belong here. But then again, she never really belonged anywhere.

A human among supernatural beings-a poor transfer student at an elite academy for the gifted. She tightened her grip on her bag and took a deep breath, trying to calm the nerves that were threatening to consume her.

"Aria Whitaker?" A voice broke her from her thoughts, and she turned to find a woman in a sharp black uniform, her eyes scanning the list on her clipboard. "Welcome to Silverstone. Let me show you to your dorm."

The woman's voice was polite but distant, as if she had given this welcome speech a thousand times. Aria followed her, trying not to feel too out of place as students with glowing eyes and sharp features passed by. Werewolves, vampires, witches... all of them different from her.

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