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BOXER

Married To My Ex-Fiancé's Silent Uncle

Married To My Ex-Fiancé's Silent Uncle

Ming Yue
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 SchemingContract marriage Billionaires
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"My name is Asher Lloyd," the man said with his deep, captivating voice. "I'm thirty-one years old and work as a boxing coach."

Twenty-eight-year-old Verena Stewart never imagined she would end up returning to her hometown for a blind date one day.

According to the matchmaker, the man she was meeting was an excellent choice. He wasn't from the area and had lost both parents, but his grandmother was still healthy and living with him.

He owned a three-story house in town, a fully paid apartment in the city center, and a pretty decent car as well.

He also ran a boxing gym downtown and earned a respectable income.

People in town all called him as Coach Lloyd.

Right now, the so-called ideal man sat across from her, his tall frame naturally commanding attention.

He was dressed entirely in black, giving off a rugged, bad-boy charm. His facial features were striking, and he had a neatly trimmed buzz cut. He had the kind of classic bone structure that older generations found especially appealing.

However, his face was stone-cold, and he emanated a cold aura.

He looked strong and distant. Though undeniably attractive, he was rough around the edges.

He was not the type who seemed easy to approach.

Verena smiled courteously. "I'm Verena Stewart. Twenty-eight years old. I work as a translator."

Asher quietly observed the woman sitting opposite him. Her skin was flawless. Although she smiled politely, her eyes looked detached. There was a graceful, otherworldly quality about her.

As his gaze lingered, he noticed the tiny mole near the corner of her eye. For a brief moment, his cold expression eased.

After the brief introductions, silence immediately settled between them.

This was Verena's first blind date, and she wasn't good at handling awkward conversations. Combined with Asher's icy demeanor, she had even less interest in making small talk.

So, she lifted her glass and took a sip of water to buy herself some time.

When she lowered the glass, Asher was still sitting back in his chair, quietly watching her with the same unreadable expression.

A faint shiver ran through Verena. Maintaining her composure, she asked, "So, I heard you're quite a catch. Why would someone like you need to go on blind dates?"

"I'm picky," Asher answered simply.

Verena teased, "I thought your family pushed you into this."

"They did." His deep voice remained steady. "My grandmother said she would be very disappointed if I missed today's date."

Just as Verena was thinking how direct he was, Asher added casually, "There's no need to treat blind dates as something serious. If things work out, maybe you'll find the right person. If not, just consider it a pleasant experience. At worst, you'll get some experience."

What nonsense!

Verena forced a smile. "Sounds like you have a lot of experience with blind dates."

"That's right." Asher gave a casual shrug. "I've probably gone on around a hundred of them."

Immediately, Verena saw him as irresponsible and unreliable.

"Mr. Lloyd, I don't think we're compatible." She chose her words carefully, knowing they lived in the same town and would likely cross paths again. "I prefer men who are mature and dependable. To be honest, I lost my job recently, got cheated out of my savings, and now I'm in debt. That's why I came back home and am relying on my family to survive. I'm really not worthy of someone like you. I sincerely hope you find someone suitable soon."

Asher narrowed his eyes. It was impossible to tell what he was thinking.

After a brief silence, he simply replied, "Alright."

Verena watched him pick up his coat and leave with long strides. As she looked at his retreating figure, she could not help feeling slightly surprised.

He was tall and solidly built, with broad shoulders and a lean waist. Every line of his muscles radiated strength.

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Returning to her hometown for a blind date, Verena expected stability, not Asher-a rugged boxing coach who seemed far too confident for his own good. When asked why a guy with his credentials chose a blind date, he said he was just picky about women. Her take? Too shallow. Definitely not someone
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The Dead Boxer / The Works of William Carleton, Volume Two

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