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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"Elena, our family has given you everything for the past twenty-three years, yet this is how you repay us? Such ingratitude! Gather your things and return to that rundown village to find your real parents!"

In front of Elena Reed stood a wealthy middle-aged woman draped in an exquisite gown, her wrists adorned with gold and diamond bangles. Her sharp gaze bore into Elena with evident contempt.

This middle-aged woman, Cecily Reed, was the one Elena had addressed as "mother" her entire life. Now, Cecily clutched another girl who bore an uncanny resemblance to her.

The girl, Sylvia Reed, looked up at Cecily, her tone tripped with mock consideration. "Mom, don't be mad. I'm sure Elena didn't mean any harm. She's just struggling to accept that your love and Dad's belong to me now. Please don't hold it against her..."

Cecily's expression softened as she looked down at Sylvia. Then, Cecily shot Elena a look with scorn. "She's the imposter—the one who stole the life meant for you. While you suffered all these years, she basked in wealth and privilege. It's only right that she faces the consequences!"

A fleeting glint of triumph flickered in Sylvia's eyes, quickly replaced by the perfect mask of innocence.

Earlier, Sylvia had shattered a glass downstairs, letting the shards cut her skin, and then framed Elena for it. Sylvia's parents immediately jumped to the assumption that Elena was to blame, dismissing any chance for Elena to defend herself.

Determined to banish Elena for good, Sylvia watched her with revulsion. Elena had stolen her rightful place for too long.

Elena's flawless features only fueled Sylvia's resentment.

Elena's—now Sylvia's—father, Benjamin Reed frowned at Elena, his face full of distaste. "To think you'd be capable of such cruelty—trying to scar Sylvia's face! With a heart as wicked as yours, you don't deserve to stay in Foiclens. I've already sent for your real parents. Get your belongings together and prepare to return to Cloudstream Village immediately."

For a time, Benjamin had considered keeping Elena. After all, they had invested years in raising her. Even if she wasn't suited to marry Darren Griffiths, the wealthy heir, she could have been useful in securing another alliance through marriage.

But Elena had supposedly hurt Sylvia and ruined every matchmaking attempt he arranged for her. Now that Elena was of no use, Benjamin saw no reason to keep her.

Elena lowered her gaze, a bitter smirk playing on her lips. The true colors of the Reed family had become painfully clear.

The Reeds had risen to prominence in Foiclens years ago.

Then, two months prior, Benjamin had fallen ill, requiring a blood transfusion. That was when they discovered Elena's blood type was Rh-negative—proof that she wasn't their daughter.

Immediately, the Reed family had pulled every string to locate their biological child: Sylvia.

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