Claimed By My Fiancé's Ruthless Uncle

Chapter 4 No.4

Word Count: 740 | Released on: 20/01/2026

ing doors of the Four Seasons,

rystal chandeliers overhead. Elisa stood there, dripping water onto the pristine stone. Her co

He started to come around the counter, a look of polite alarm on

. The adrenaline that had carried her from the club

ees bu

't hit t

elding. One arm hooked around her waist, the

back. Through the haze of wet h

s, a jawline that could cut glass. His eyes were dark, almost black, and t

arwood, and something e

an in his arms. He recognized her instan

uld hand her over to the manager. He sho

hands clutched the lapels of his suit

. His voice was deep, a low rumbl

re." She looked back up at him. Her eyes w

d his eyes. "Do y

't care who you are. I just

tiptoes, bringing her face inches from

challenge

w feet away, uncertain. Gallagher gave a single, shar

n her finger. He saw the pain in her eyes. It mir

et this," he

else," Elisa replie

nt down and scooped her up into his arms

ling his scent. It masked the smell of

s. He pulled a black card from his poc

man in an impeccable suit holding a woman w

o his shoulder, hidden from the security camera in the corner. His hand came

the pressure buildi

dark. Lightning flashed outside the floor-to-ceiling wind

console table in the entryway.

Her hands were cold on

f salt and

groaned, a guttural sound, and kissed her back. His hands tangled in her wet hair,

ding. He kissed her like he want

tly what she want

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.”