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Married To My Ex-Fiancé's Silent Uncle

Chapter 8

Word Count: 833 | Released on: 16/04/2026

ling's email arrived: Board meeting. Thursday, 9 a.m. Your hu

eet, still and s

d," she muttered.

gh thought they could walk all over an empt

suits. The air conditioning was set to arctic. Twelve board dire

e doors s

e wal

had tailored to fit like armor. Her hair w

he table, stood up. "What are you d

the empty chair at the head of the table, F

attorney," she said, placing her leather fold

r right, nodded. "It is in

th a pen. "Go back to the hospital, Darcie. You don't kn

on the screen. "The shell company is called Blue Ridge Transport," he had said, his voice a calm whisper. "He's siphoning money through infl

pened he

d, her voice projecting clearly. "But I

topped directly in front of him. It wasn't a spreadsheet. It was a high-resolution st

de you a liability to this company's shareholde

tter!" Hugh blustered,

mpany's value in a single day," Darcie cou

nd the men beside him could hear. "And this is just the appe

d to the table. The mention of the shell company had

ugh Maxwell's executive privileges pending a ful

his. Then the CFO. Then the others. Capital

ied," Sterli

stood up, shaking. "I am th

, resting her chin on

id softly. "And show som

nty-four!"

Darcie said. "That make

room. Everyone was wa

so hard Darcie thou

...Da

to your office and pack your thin

med out o

ehind her in the lobby. Then she leaned against the metal w

Nine.

led it

ck to the

room. "Fleet! You

hand, the one th

I suspended

idiot. She squeezed his h

her grip. We won. She had said we. Not I. She wasn't ju

to Fleet. He felt something sharp unfurl. Pride, f

she was doing. She dr

ughed nervously. "Okay. Reward time.

Chapter End

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Married To My Ex-Fiancé's Silent Uncle

Ming Yue Modern

“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.”