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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Royal City Hotel.

The most luxurious high-end private club in A city.

Alice Oliver was very dizzy after drinking. She stood at the end off the corridor on the 22nd floor and looked at the room number in front of her. She laughed.

2218.

Exactly.

This was the exact room number she bore in mind.

Pushing open the unlocked door, she stumbled into the room.

There was no light in the room, and it was dark. Alice scanned the room, and her eyes finally fell in the direction near the window, where there was a flickering light.

It was the man who was smoking.

Alice managed to stabilize her shaking body and she grinned, "I... I'm here."

She got a burp of wine the moment she spoke, and it came from her throat out of her control.

She quickly covered her mouth, pinched her little finger and stroked, "I only... had a little wine, hah."

Alice couldn't see the man's face clearly, but she obviously felt that his cold and gloomy air was coming right to her. She took a step back unconsciously, and suddenly sobered up a little.

But after that, the effects of drink came back to her. She didn't keep her balance and fell hard against the wall. Her back was hurt, so she couldn't help making a "hiss" sound.

The man stared at the little girl who had intruded into the room. She stood in the yellow light at the door. The black swallow-tail dress was swaying behind her, showing her beautiful legs, absolutely charming. The heavy make-up on her face was like the gorgeous coat wrapping a snow-white rose, giving people a desire to peel it off and explore the unexpected.

The man suppressed his instinctive curiosity and asked calmly.

"How did you get in?" The 22nd floor of the hotel was not a place for a drunken mad woman to walk around.

The man's voice was very magnetic, and seemed to be able to absorb the souls of people. Alice had to admit that he had a nice voice.

"The waiter has a good taste. When he saw this necklace, he thought that I was a VIP guest who could come in and out of the 22nd floor." Alice pointed to the necklace on her neck. The diamond ring on the necklace was of great value.

Just then, the man's cell phone rang.

It was a short message.

The man picked up his phone at once, and the light of the screen shone on his face. He lowered his head, and Alice could only see his manly outline strongly defined under the bright light.

Although she couldn't see clearly, she still could tell that this man had a gorgeous face.

She didn't expect that she would be dealing with a handsome young man.

A man who had the dirty idea to deal with bodies was definitely a scum of bad character and behavior.

Alice jumped to a conclusion in her heart.

The man was staring at the screen of his cell phone, and the message on it read --Carlos, I am sorry.

Sender, Jane Smith.

The man's hand shook slightly. The next moment, he blacklisted the person who sent the text message decisively.

When Alice saw the man hadn't said anything after a long while, she supported her drowsy head and asked in a very low voice, "We... Can we start now?"

The man sneered, "I'm not interested in a woman with an overpowering smell of alcohol."

Alice became nervous. She was just drinking to boost her courage. It took her forever to organize her words and then she said, "Please wait a minute. I'll wash it off."

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