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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"From Urgent News Flash, there was a rear-end collision on Highway 257. A drunk truck driver collided with a taxi in front, causing it to flip over. The extent of injuries is not yet known, but witnesses say a pregnant woman about to give birth was inside."

The sounds of sirens, screams, and traffic were deafening.

The noise battered Kimberly Holden's ears, and the air reeked of blood.

Barely conscious, she managed to grab her phone and dialed a number.

Just as the call was about to drop, someone picked up.

A familiar female voice responded, "Kimberly, Declan is in the shower and can't come to the phone. What's the matter? Is it urgent?"

At that moment, Kimberly's heart sank.

It was Valerie Walsh! Of course!

Always Valerie, the beloved adopted sister Declan Walsh had grown up with, the one who made him neglect her, block her number, even on her due date.

With her eyes closed, Kimberly felt a warm stream beneath her, signaling the life inside her fading. Despite her agony, she begged, "Help me... Highway 257... Save my child..." Her words were hard to speak.

The sudden accident had knocked down the barriers on both sides, completely blocking the highway. Cars couldn't go forward or backward, and rescue vehicles were trapped outside.

The process of deploying a helicopter was too complicated. However, Kimberly knew that the Walsh family owned a private chopper. If Declan could send it over right away, there was still a chance for hope.

"I'm sorry, Kimberly. Declan is busy with my birthday preparations today and can't address this," said the voice, sounding naive yet harsh.

Then the line went dead.

Kimberly fell to the ground, the smell of gasoline urging her to escape before an explosion.

But she felt a sudden acceptance of her fate.

In her last moments, she thought about her twenty-five years, half spent loving a man who didn't love her back.

From the spoiled heiress of the Holden family, she had become a disgraced figure, publicly embarrassed.

She had gambled everything of the Holden family's property, yet failed to gain even a shred of Declan's genuine love.

She was exhausted and had lost the will to love him again.

This life taught her about poor judgments, and she promised herself not to make the same errors in another life.

"Mrs. Walsh, are you really going to wear this pink couture dress to the charity auction tonight? Even though Mr. Walsh..." Maggie, the housekeeper, paused, then gently continued, "This short dress seems too casual. Maybe choose something different?"

After her suggestion, she watched anxiously for the woman's reaction in the mirror.

Having worked for the Walsh family for many years, Maggie understood Kimberly's deep love for Declan. To win his approval, Kimberly carefully matched her lifestyle to his preferences.

Kimberly looked at the familiar reflection, her heart racing.

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