Fuckboy

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 Scheming Contract marriage Billionaires CEO Flash Marriage Revenge Age Gap

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Golden rays of sunlight washed into the bedroom, shafts from the huge windows spilling over the two occupants sleeping on a king-size bed. The woman groaned and shifted on the bed. Her long tresses tickled her bare skin. Her hands splayed on a torso of a man as she slept soundly, her naked body pressed against him.

She slowly woke up, wondering why was her pillow too warm to touch. The woman moaned softly, and her brows twitched as the sunlight hit her face, making her aware that it was already morning.

Luna Jiang just wanted to spend most of her days in her bed. Most of her nights passed by with her working on the advertisement for the newest phone that their company launched yesterday. Good thing it was already Saturday, and she didn't have to do anything for today.

Her hand unconsciously gripped the nearest pillow to her body, but she was surprised when she felt naked skin beneath her fingers. She opened her eyes in confusion and propped an elbow to lift her torso from the bed. Her gaze landed on a man smiling down on her, and she jolted up from her lying position while clutching the sheets to her chest, covering her breast from his sight.

"Where am I? This isn't my place!" Luna Jiang blurted out.

Her eyes looked around, seeing she was in an unfamiliar room. From the looks of it, it seemed she was in a hotel. She looked down on her body and noticed the darkening hickeys on her chest and that she was in her birthday suit. Her clothes littered the floor beside the bed.

"Oh, God … no … what did I do?" she murmured to herself. It finally dawned to her what had taken place apparently.

"You seemed surprised." A cold and stoic voice of a man startled her. She almost jumped out of her skin when she heard his voice. She couldn't believe the situation she found herself in. Her heart skipped a beat.

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