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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

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Oh shoot

I was late for school. Last night I was completing my chemistry project and so I slept late, around 3:00 a.m.

I changed my clothes as fast as I could and rushed out of my home. Mom probably went on a walk otherwise she would have woke me up. Which means Lavy is still asleep. Lavy is younger than me by two years. Dad left us five years after Lavy was born, I don't know any legit reason behind their divorce but every time I ask mom she just shrugs it off by, "Things weren't working between us." and I never inquest any further.

Dad never really comes around, not even to check how we are putting up without him. Initially it hurts, more to mom than us but with time we have grown accustomed to it.

Growing up Lavy always use to question "Why always mom takes us to the Zoo and not dad?" It became so intricate for us to answer her.

I went downstairs to Lavy's room to wake her up. After approximately fifteen minutes we were running four blocks down towards our school.

I could feel sweat droplets rolling down between the valley on my bust. First period and I am already stinking. Taking a few deep breaths to counter my pants I entered the classroom. I knew I was already late for my Physics class but since it was the first and hopefully the last time I was hoping Mr. Smuldres wouldn't mind. Holding the cold metal in my hand I rotated it to unlock the door and suddenly I was pushed inside the classroom. Stumbling, I somehow managed not to fall and grabbed the first desk to balance myself.

I looked behind and saw a guy in grey hoodie sprinting towards last bench.

Mr. Smulders, who initially had his back towards the class now turned around and glanced at me, my panting wasn't dead yet and my facial expressions weren't hiding the fact that I was scared.

Scared because I was probably about to get my first detention.

I couldn't decipher Mr. Smulders' expression. He was......staring.

Just staring. So I stood there fiddling with my fingers and looking at nothing in particular.

Finally, some words escaped from his mouth, "Next time you're late Ms. Esinberg you'll be signing up yourself for detention. You can find a seat now."

Giving him a nod I sat on the first bench. No one really occupies the first bench, which is except me, obviously.

"As you all know, you have to submit a project on Application of Physics. I hope you all have chosen a topic. I'm passing a sheet; please write your topics against your name."

Everyone did as told. After everyone wrote down their topics I passed the sheet to Mr. Smulders, as I was sitting on the front desk. While handing him the sheet my gaze fell on it. Everyone had a topic except Raymond.

Raymond Reynolds. The famous bad boy of Acumen High. He has everything one can think of. Loaded parents, a bunch of friends- the popular group of Acumen High, amazing body, perfect boyish smile. Every girl throws herself at him and every boy wants to be in his shoes. You know the typical clichés where girls worship the land bad boy walks on, this is exactly the case.

Okay I admit he's good-looking. I mean he has a good pair of muscles and six-pack abs. Blue eyes. Honey gold skin. But those blue eyes hold much more than the fa?ade mask he always wears.

The blank column in front of his name left me wondering if he deliberately chose not to write any topic (because he has a habit of riling teachers) or he doesn't truly have a topic.

"Mr. Reynolds, why haven't you written any topic?", Mr. Smulders' resonant voice filled the classroom attracting everyone's attention towards Raymond.

I looked back too, the guy with the grey hoodie. Raymond.

He replied in the most casual tone anyone could use, "Because I haven't decided it yet.", he said.

"And may I know the reason why?" Mr. Smulders asked.

"Well, I have been busy lately", Raymond shrugged.

Mr. Smulders was giving him a pointed look urging him to continue.

"You know …football practice and stuff.", finished Raymond.

"Very well", Mr. Smulders mumbled and started scanning the classroom as if trying to find something, well the hunt soon ceased as his gaze settled on me.

"Sophie, meet me after this period" he said before returning back to whatever he was doing.

Oh boy. This doesn't sound good, does it?

****

"Sophie, I want you to do me favor", Mr. Smulders said. I couldn't deny whatever it was, so I told him I will do it.

"I want you to pair up with Raymond for this project", he said, his eyes locked with mine.

NO.

I wanted to say but couldn't. One look at Mr. Smulders face and anyone could tell how persistent he is on partnering me with Raymond.

So, I chose not to speak. At all.

"I know it is going to be a battle for you Sophie but I don't think you would like to lose your credits because of this."

What the…

Mr. Smulders is trying to blackmail me?

Ughhh. I hate my life.