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

Download the Book on the App

Sylvia's POV:

"Sylvia, you lazy slave! Do you know what time is it now? Why are you still sleeping?"

I struggled to get up from the wooden bed and looked at the time. It was not even five o'clock in the morning yet. I rubbed my throbbing temples. Then I hurriedly put on my thin coat and opened the door.

A fat she-wolf was blocking the door.

With a ferocious look on her face, she pointed at my nose and snapped, "Today is the Alpha Ceremony. Why are you still asleep? Have you finished all your work?"

I didn't say anything and just lowered my head.

I only slept for less than an hour because I spent the entire night cleaning up the conference room. My mind was still in a mess.

"Why are you still standing there? Go finish all your work!" she roared again.

Then she glared at me, turned around, and left with heavy steps.

I sighed and walked to the cloakroom, where the clothes needed to be ironed piled on the rack. Shawn Gibson was turning eighteen today, and he was going to take over the throne during the Alpha Ceremony. I had to prepare the clothes he was going to wear.

The sun was already rising outside when I finished ironing the clothes.

The territory of the Black Moon Pack was covered by dark clouds all year round, and it was always damp and cold. I wrapped my tattered cotton-padded clothes tightly around my body and carried a bucket to the banquet hall.

Many kinds of exquisite tableware had already been placed in the hall. After the Alpha Ceremony, all the guests would gather here to celebrate the promotion of the new Alpha.

I was wiping the steps with a rag when a stiletto stepped on it.

I looked up to see who it was. Then I saw Cherry, Gamma's daughter. She was wearing a black mermaid dress, and her red hair was curled. She looked very attractive.

"Step aside," I said coldly.

"Excuse me? Do you know what kind of place this is? You don't deserve to come here at all." Cherry then kicked my bucket arrogantly.

"Cherry! You are going too far."

"What? A mere slave is mad at me? How interesting! But actually, I can make you even angrier." Cherry flipped her long curly hair and sneered. She glared at me with a pair of mean eyes, clapped her hands, and ordered, "Bring it here."

A she-wolf came over. She carried a bucket of swill and poured it on the stairs in front of me. The stench instantly filled the air.

Read Now