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Claimed By My Fiancé's Ruthless Uncle

Chapter 6 No.6

Word Count: 674    |    Released on: 20/01/2026

, scrubbing her skin until it was raw and pink. T

the mirror. There was a bruise on her nec

touching it tentat

aler, layer after layer, until

. She had left her mobile turned of

ed it up

he hell

Arvel Hamilton di

d," Elisa said,

d you had a fight. He sa

rrected, gripping the phone cor

rget dates. It's not a reason to jeopard

all this

. You know this. If Osborne pulls out, the gallery goe

said bitterly. "She'd love to

ey is trying to help. You're the one making things difficult. Fix th

e click

phone. Her hand wa

from a hidden compartment in her desk-a hardened, military-grade slate that operated on a clo

haos. The system that bloomed on the screen wasn't a brow

in the Caymans, shell companies in Singapore, high-fre

it was almost abstract, a figure capable of bringing

save Hamilton Holdings. She could buy

g rights to the family shares-the real power-only transferred to her

Arvel would sue for control. El

to be

en, her reflection gho

earth," sh

ld let the merger go through, let their finances entangle, and

orbell

e slate instantly, sliding

ough the peephole. A delivery man hol

ened t

the man said, hand

sorry. Stress at work.

re. Just a

pped the entire bouquet, vase and all, into the trash compa

plan. She nee

s a start. But she needed more. She needed proof o

the man from last night-th

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Claimed By My Fiancé's Ruthless Uncle
Claimed By My Fiancé's Ruthless Uncle
“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.”