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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Note: This book contains a blend of first person POV and third person pov.

Chapter 1 : A knife to the heart

Richard's snarl cut through the silence of the study. "Sign the damn divorce papers, Aurora."

A faint, cold smirk touched my lips. Did he truly think I was that much of a fool?

"You think I'll grant you the privilege of spending my father's wealth on your mistress?"My voice was as sharp as a shard of glass. "I'm not signing a thing."

A deadly glare burned in his eyes, his face a mask of pure rage. "You stubborn bitch. To hell with you!" he thundered, storming out and slamming the door so hard the walls shook.

The moment he was gone, the strength drained from my body. I slumped onto the couch, heaving a sigh that felt like it carried the weight of the last five years. I squeezed my eyes shut, fighting back the hot tears that threatened to fall.

Five years. Five years of a marriage I never wanted, a final promise to my father, before he passed. And in some foolish, hidden corner of my heart, I'd begun to feel something for this man. But Richard had only ever been a ghost in our home, draining the company accounts to fund his affairs. He never offered a kind word, never pretended to love me. Why would he? He didn't.

And now he wanted a divorce? He wanted to legitimize his theft and parade his whores on my father's fortune? I wouldn't give him the pleasure.

I snatched my keys from the table. I needed a drink, something strong enough to burn the memory of his voice from my mind. It was my only coping mechanism.

The bar was a blur of fluorescent lights and the dizzying hum of strangers' laughter. I slid onto a stool. "Tequila. Neat," I told the bartender. The glass was cold in my hand. I threw it back in one searing gulp, but it did nothing to silence the echo of Richard's words.

My grip tightened on the empty glass. Why couldn't he just love me? What did I ever do to deserve such hatred?

"Hey there, mademoiselle." A voice sliced through my thoughts.

I turned to see a tall man with a thick beard, a cocky smile plastered on his round face.

"Hey,"I replied flatly, signaling the bartender for another drink.

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