Married To My Ex-Fiancé's Silent Uncle

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.

Modern Scheming Contract marriage Billionaires CEO Flash Marriage Revenge Age Gap

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"Let it go, let it go! You'll never see me cry!" Anne Mo lay in the bathtub with her eyes closed. She was applying a facial mask while singing a song. It felt so good to be at home alone.

After singing, she removed the facial mask, got up from the bathtub, and dried her body and hair with a clean towel. She then applied lotion to her body evenly and carefully.

She was done with her nightly beauty regimen and was ready to sleep. Since she was alone at home, she could sleep in the big bed any way she liked.

Anne was in a good mood as she opened the bathroom door naked. However, she was startled by what she saw.

"George? What the..." Anne muttered incoherently. Her eyes widened in shock, staring at the man who was sitting quietly on the sofa.

George Liang raised his eyebrows when he heard the sound. His eyes then fell on Anne's naked body.

"Oh, honey, such a big gift. I'm really flattered," George said in a hoarse voice as he stood up from the sofa and approached her step by step.

"Hey, hey, hey! Aren't you on a business trip? How come you came back all of a sudden?" Anne was so scared that she stepped back. "George, you are a businessman. You should give importance to honesty. Today is Wednesday. It is Wednesday!"

Anne couldn't retreat anymore, but George was still approaching her. Left with no choice, she just leaned against the wall, stared at him with her eyes in horror, and covered herself tightly with her hands.

George looked at Anne up and down, scanning her from head to toe with his deep eyes. It made her tremble with fear.

He then looked into her eyes and asked in a hoarse voice, "You are afraid of me, aren't you?"

Anne cursed inwardly, 'Bullshit!' After their wedding night, she was not able to get out of bed for three days. She even had to apply an ointment for a month. 'If you were me, wouldn't you be afraid? I doubt anyone wouldn't be!'

Anne gritted her teeth with hatred, looked into his deep eyes that were like whirlpools, and said gingerly, "Yes, a little bit."

George pressed his thin lips into a straight line and stared at her pretty face for a long time. He then went into the bathroom without saying a word.

Anne breathed a sigh of relief when she heard the bathroom door closed. She then rushed to the wardrobe in full speed, took out her pajamas, and put them on.

She didn't want to be alone with George, so while he was taking a shower, she took a hairdryer, dried her hair hastily, and jumped onto the bed. She then pulled the quilt and covered herself tightly.

'Go to sleep, Anne. He won't do anything when you are asleep, ' she told herself.

However, she underestimated George's eroticism.

Even if she had successfully fallen asleep, George still woke her up mercilessly.

Half asleep and half awake, Anne opened her eyes. And the first thing she saw was George's handsome face.

She grabbed the quilt that he pulled away, covered her chest, and reminded him again, "Today is Wednesday. You said that we will only have sex on Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Saturdays."

"It's already past twelve midnight so it's Thursday now," George said in a low voice with an adamant look.

Anne subconsciously raised her eyes and looked at the wall clock. Indeed, it was two past twelve.

Her face flushed as rage surged up in her heart. She lost her tongue for a moment. After a while, she snapped, "You are breaking the rule!"

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