Claimed By My Fiancé's Ruthless Uncle

Chapter 2 No.2

Word Count: 798 | Released on: 20/01/2026

e dot s

ilding. It wasn't a late-night diner. It was The Vault. A members-only club where the buy-

so hard her knuckles t

pping off the silk dress that suddenly felt like a costume. She threw it on the floor. She pulled on black trou

he bowl in the foyer. No driver

y one of them, her breath shallow. When the doors opened, she marched to he

hed floor. The city was wet. Rain had started to fall, smearing t

e blare of the horn. Her hands gripped the leather steering wheel, her m

ed s

ted bitter

Two rings. "The person you are

o voicemail. He had turned h

gine roared, a guttural sound that ma

inst the roof of the car. She pulled up to the curb in front of The Vault. The valet, a y

id, breathless. "We w

The rain hit her face, cold and shocking

a mountain of a man with an earpiece, s

tonight, miss.

. She lowered her sunglasses, staring up at

id. It wasn't a na

ment ring on her left hand. He recognized it. He recognized her. The Osborne fiancée.

touching his ea

ough the heavy,

brating through her ribcage. The air was thick, humid with swea

e. Elisa felt disoriented for a second, a wave of nausea rollin

unk man in a suit stumbled into he

sweetheart,

dn't look back. She kept her eyes o

ribs like a trapped bird. The VIP area was separated by

light grey

ed by three women. Models, by the look of them-impossibly tall, legs t

, whispering something in his ear. Chris threw his head back and laug

e blood drain from her fac

t the cold stone. She was shaking. Her entire body was vibrating wi

nd pulled out her phone. Her

Chapter End

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Claimed By My Fiancé's Ruthless Uncle

Cinderella's Sister Modern

“I spent our third anniversary alone in our penthouse, adjusting a white rose and waiting for a man who didn't want to come home. When my fiancé, Chris Osborne, finally arrived, he didn't notice the 1982 Lafite or the dinner I'd prepared. He looked at me with disgust, calling my desire for a wedding date "pressure" before storming out to a private club. I followed him, hiding behind a marble pillar at The Vault as I recorded his voice on my phone. He was laughing with his friends about a $20 million bet. He called me a "boring ice queen" and a "marble statue," explaining that he only needed to keep me around until the merger closed so he could steal my shares and "cut me loose." To make it worse, my own father was in on it, prioritizing his stock price over his daughter's life. Broken and barefoot in a torrential Manhattan downpour, I sought refuge at the Four Seasons. I collapsed into the arms of a tall, dangerous-looking stranger and begged him to take me upstairs. I wanted to be erased, to forget the transaction my life had become. After a night of salt and desperation, I left my engagement ring on his nightstand as payment for services rendered and fled. The next morning, I realized I had jumped from the frying pan into the furnace. My "stranger" wasn't a nobody. He was Gallagher Osborne-the ruthless patriarch of the family and my fiancé's uncle. He tracked me to a private clinic, trapping me in a room while holding my medical file and the ring I'd discarded. He told me I was his now, and that he'd dismantle Chris piece by piece if I didn't comply. I was a piece of currency to my father, a bet to my fiancé, and a prize to his uncle. I had no allies, no escape, and no mercy left. I realized that being the "perfect daughter" had only made me a target. If they wanted to play games with the "Ice Queen," I decided to give them a frostbite they would never forget. I trashed my art gallery, backdated a diagnosis for a psychotic break, and sent a cryptic suicide note to Chris. As Gallagher watched from the shadows and Chris panicked over his investment, I began the process of scorching the earth. The merger was still happening, but I wasn't the bride anymore-I was the wrecking ball.”