My Ex's Uncle Is My Baby's Daddy

My Ex's Uncle Is My Baby's Daddy

Cynthia .L.

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On the night of their engagement party, Emma finds Lena in Ryan's arms. Ryan smirks. "You were never enough, Emma." Lena watches with zero guilt. "You had everything, Emma. It's my turn now." Emma is devastated, but the real blow comes next- Her parents choose Lena over her. "You've always been a disappointment, Emma. Lena is the daughter we should have had." ****** "I used to be a Sinclair. I used to be someone's daughter, someone's fiancée. But then I learned-being their daughter meant nothing. Being his fiancée meant nothing. So I let them bury that girl. And when I rose, I made sure no one would ever break me again."

Chapter 1 001

Emma's POV

I stood before the mirror, smoothing my hands down the delicate fabric of the gown I had finally chosen for my engagement party tomorrow. This day had finally arrived. The day I had waited for, dreamt of, and sacrificed so much for. Even though my marriage to Ryan Carter was arranged, I loved him.

Ryan had always been a bit controlling. He was the one who brought me out to pick dresses today, as usual taking the lead. I should be used to it by now. He never quite let me decide on my own, always having a comment or correction.

"This is not for your body proportions. You would look more stunning in something else."

His voice was sharp as he dismissed yet another gown.

"I don't like how tight it is. You're literally calling out to lustful men when you wear this."

The store attendant cleared her throat. She had been patient, but I could tell she wanted to say something.

"Sir, this looks good and sophisticated. It's just that Ma'am Emma looks outstanding in whatever she wears," she explained, trying to defend my choice.

Ryan, as usual, brushed her off like her opinion didn't matter. Like my opinion didn't matter.

I let out a soft breath, staring at my reflection. Did I really need his approval for everything?

Then I stepped out in the dress I was wearing now-a sleek, elegant piece that hugged my body in all the right places. Finally, a satisfactory compliment.

"Now, this is it," Ryan said with a nod of approval.

He then excused himself to take a call, stepping away as I turned back to the changing room to get dressed again.

That's how it had always been with Ryan.

It wasn't that I didn't have my own fashion sense. In fact, the dress I had initially chosen was perfect-but of course, he hated it. Not because it didn't look good, but because it wasn't his taste.

Lena. My best friend. My sister, though not by blood.

She was the only one who truly understood how much passion I had for fashion. She had seen my sketches, my vision. My family had built an empire in fashion. We had been at the forefront of the industry for years, following the aesthetic traditions passed down for generations.

But I had bigger dreams.

I wanted something new. Fresh. Innovative. Designs that would break the mold.

But my father had shut me down before I could even begin.

"That's not how we do things, Emma. Our legacy must remain untouched."

So, I had kept my ideas to myself. I had watched in silence as my dreams stayed locked away, too afraid to go against tradition.

Until Lena.

She had taken my designs, the ones I poured my soul into, and presented them as her own.

At first, she promised me it was temporary.

"They won't listen to you now, Emma. But if I introduce them slowly, one by one, they'll see the value. When the time is right, we'll tell them."

And I believed her.

I told myself it didn't matter whose name was on the designs-as long as they saw the beauty in them, as long as they were out in the world.

But deep down, something inside me felt uneasy.

I stepped out of the changing room, adjusting my dress as I made my way toward Ryan. He was still on his phone, his voice low but firm.

I wasn't trying to eavesdrop. I really wasn't.

But then I heard her name.

"Lena, you just have to keep quiet. It's still our secret for now."

I froze.

The air around me seemed to shift, the atmosphere suddenly too thick, too heavy.

Lena.

A secret.

With Ryan.

What secret could she possibly be hiding?

Lena had stayed back at home, helping with the engagement party. If not, she would have been here with me, fussing over every little detail, making sure I didn't pick something "too boring" or "not breathtaking enough." She was just as excited about this engagement as I was. Maybe even more.

Lena had always been my best friend-the sister I never had. She knew my dreams, my fears, my deepest insecurities... and most importantly, my love for Ryan.

And Ryan-he was my fiancé. The man I was going to marry. The man I had loved for years.

So why did it feel like they were keeping something from me?

Could it be that the two of them were planning a surprise?

The thought made sense.

Maybe that was why Ryan had sounded so secretive just now. Maybe that was why Lena had been unusually giddy all week, always whispering with our parents when she thought I wasn't looking.

Yes. That had to be it.

I let out a slow breath, trying to shake off the unease creeping in.

Just then, Ryan turned around, his deep blue eyes locking onto mine. His smile was immediate-effortless, warm, reassuring.

"Ready to head home?" he asked.

I wanted to ask him about that phone call.

I wanted to look him in the eye and demand to know what he was hiding.

But did he even look like someone with something to hide?

No.

He seemed perfectly at ease, completely unbothered.

Maybe he just didn't want me to find out yet.

Maybe whatever secret he and Lena were keeping was something good-something meant to make me happy.

So I pushed the doubt away, forcing a smile.

"Yes," I said, slipping my hand into his.

Because whatever they were hiding... it couldn't possibly be something bad.

Right?

Ryan led me to the elevator, his hand resting lightly on my back. The boutique was nearly empty now, save for a few late shoppers and sales attendants tidying up for the night. The soft chime of the elevator doors filled the silence as we stepped inside.

I stole a glance at him. His expression was calm, but his grip on his phone was firm, his thumb hovering over the screen as if waiting for a message.

"You're quiet," I murmured.

"Just tired," he answered smoothly, slipping his phone into his pocket before wrapping an arm around my waist. He pressed a gentle kiss to my forehead. "Let's get home. Tomorrow's a big day."

I nodded, leaning into him, willing the unease to fade.

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