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

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Inigo Petrakis's POV

Present day...

What was that noise? Was that a woman singing an Ariana Grande song?

Peeling my eyes open, I groaned out loud and cursed as a ray of light bit my eyes. Curling at the other side of the bed, I cursed again when I heard my phone ringing. I rubbed my eyes and frustratingly opened it to see discarded clothes strewn all over my room. The curtains were parted hence, the bright light filling in my crystal white room and the door to the shower was closed.

She began to sing the lines of Dangerous Woman and I cocked my head to the side for at her on key voice. Damn. The woman is turning me on and I fucking hate to break my rule on one night stands. Didn't the woman know not to wake up a one night stand at 6 in the morning and seduce him because of a really good song?

Throwing back the covers and tugging on a pair of discarded jeans, I groaned at my rock hard dick. This needs to get done. But my phone played my personal assistant's tone, again. Cursing in frustration, I looked for my phone at the mess in my room and growled at it when I found it. "What?"

"S-sir." my secretary, Andrew, stammered on the other line.

"This better be good Andrew because I haven't had coffee yet and a damn woman is seducing my ears." I growled at him, pinching my forehead at the obvious headache starting to form and the frustration of my male anatomy.

"It's actually about the woman and umm you sir." Andrew nervously gulped as I gritted my teeth in annoyance.

"What about it." I harshly asked on the other line.

"Well you see. There were people who caught you and her leave the party and took photos of you in a compromising position." Andrew said "You're all over the news and the board isn't happy of another scandal."

Growling in frustration, I opened the link Andrew sent me on my email and cursed out loud when I saw the cover of the headline.

Bankrupt Billionaire found in the arms of the youngest self-made millionaire Ava Marquez.

Cold settled on my feet as I read the name and our photos in a half-naked state.

No. It's not possible. Ava Marquez? An image of a raven haired green eyed beauty flashed in my mind.

Suddenly, the doors to my restroom opened and there walked out the stunning image of the woman in my mind. She was only wearing a bathrobe and her curly hair fell on soft tendrils on her back. A cheschire grin was on her lips as she smiled wickedly at me.

"Good morning." she wickedly greeted. Seeing the shock on my face and my phone on my hand, her eyes left a knowing look "Oh! You've heard the news too."

Shaking my head out of my lustful thoughts, I stomped towards her with determination "We need to sort this out! I cannot have another scandal with my company in jeopardy!"

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