Claimed By My Fiancé's Ruthless Uncle

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

co