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Married To My Ex-Fiancé's Silent Uncle

Ming Yue

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.

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It was a dim and gruesome basement.

Winter Josh had been dehydrated by three days, and her consciousness was clouded.

Her palm-sized face looked bloodless.

She was unwilling to die like this, but her only relative and grandma still needed her care, and the matter with her mother hadn't come to the surface...

"Water... I need water..." Winter opened her dried and withered lips, forcing out a few words.

Feeling a sudden cold sensation from her lips, she involuntarily opened her mouth and swallowed like a withered sapling welcoming a long-lost rain.

The abuse from a sharp voice went into her ears, "Eek, Winter, lowly bitch, you are still alive after three days!"

Winter slowly opened her eyes when Betsy Josh's enlarged face came into view. Under the dim light in the basement, her pretty face looked extremely hideous.

Her hand was grasping a wad of damp and dirty rag still dripping murky water.

Now Winter realized the coolness in her trance came from it.

This was outrageous! The mother and daughter had been trying every means to torture her. Her father not only turned a blind eye but even added insult to injury.

Unhurriedly Betsy took out her cell phone and played a video clip.

"Take a look at this. If you don't marry into the Lloyd Family, prepare to collect the dead body of your grandmother!" Her cold voice and ferocious expression sent a dull pain through Winter.

She had never expected her father, the mother and daughter should threaten her with the life of her grandmother.

"I'll marry!" She clenched her fists to the point that her nails dug deep into the flesh of her palms, "You'd better ensure my grandma's... safety... otherwise, I'll haunt you as a ghost!" Said Winter hatefully.

One day, she would make them pay for what they did to her today!

"My dear sister, why are you so insensible? The Young Lady position of the Lloyd Family is originally yours, and now I give it back. You should thank me!" As the fiancée of Mr. Lloyd, Betsy felt relieved and said in a voice dripping with sarcasm.

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