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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.

Modern Scheming Contract marriage Billionaires CEO Flash Marriage Revenge Age Gap

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Bride Of The Shadowed Alpha:

FROM HIS HATRED, A DARKER DESIRE IGNITES

Written By

Okeke-Eze Ifeoma Isabella (Omaisabella)

❤️ The Council's Verdict ❤️

"Uncle, you send for me." Nyxoria was seen walking toward him. She was in her chamber when a messenger came to pass her the message of her presence being needed in the palace.

Vyr sat upon a throne of pure gold, the sunlight streaming through the open window catching the jewels of his crown and bathing him in a commanding glow. Draped in crimson and sable robes, he radiated quiet authority, a living emblem of power and majesty. Around him, the council of elders, about four, gathered at a massive oaken table, their robes marked by symbols of their clans and wisdom etched into their faces. They all turn to look at her with a big frown and angry looks on their faces, especially the one with a missing arm.

Nyxoria didn't care, her focus was on her uncle who beamed at her when she finally stopped beside him.

"Yes, indeed I did," Vyr said. "What do you say to this?" he asked, pointing at what he and the elders were discussing. A scroll was on the table and in front of Vyr.

Nyxoria looked at the scroll briefly and returned her gaze back to her uncle.

"I say we kill almost all of them and take the others." She told him.

One of the council of elders scoffed at what she said.

Nyxoria's eyes narrowed at him. "Uncle, will you miss him if he is gone? I think his seat is hurting his dirty ass."

Quickly holding one of Nyxoria's hands and Vyr vigorously shook his head at her. He had once made a mistake when she had uttered those words ten years ago when Elder Rue of the Water clan wolf had spoken of killing her, the following day after her parents tragic death. He had grabbed her hair and was shouting at Vyr and then Nyxoria uttered those words 'Uncle, will you miss him if he is gone? Let me start with this arm' and he and the elders had ignored her thinking it was just mere words until Elder Rue suddenly screamed out in pain. That was then they discovered she had cut off the hands holding her hair from the shoulder.

That day and even ten years later Vyr hasn't forgotten. Somehow, Nyxoria always has her sword hidden somewhere in her body and doesn't hesitate to use it.

"Don't Nyxoria," Vyr said and faced the elder that spoke, "do you have anything else to say than scoffed Elder Rivar?" He asked.

Elder Rivar was a 550 hundred and fifty years old werewolf who governed the Fire wolf clan.

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