Broken Petals

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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Chapter 1

In the sprawling estate of Mr. Harrington, where affluence gleamed in every corner, Jake toiled diligently as both a cleaner and a gardener.

His hands, calloused from years of hard work, moved methodically, tending to the opulent surroundings.

Mr. Harrington, a man of privilege, strolled through the grand halls, his condescending gaze fixed on Jake.

Mr. Harrington: "Jake, do try not to ruin the carpets. We wouldn't want your lack of refinement tarnishing our home."

Jake, head bowed, responded with a quiet determination.

Jake: "I'll be careful, sir."

As Jake meticulously scrubbed the marble floors, Mr. Harrington's children, embodiment of entitled insolence, taunted him.

Child 1: "Look at him, Dad! A cleaner with dreams, how amusing!"

Child 2: "Maybe one day he'll clean up his life!"

Despite the insults, Jake pressed on, finding solace in the vibrant garden where he poured his heart into cultivating beauty amidst the disdain.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, Jake glanced at the blossoms he had nurtured, a silent defiance against the belittlement he endured daily.

As the sun dipped beneath the horizon, casting long shadows across the Harrington estate, Jake wearily made his way home.

The distant scent of flowers clung to him, a stark contrast to the hostility awaiting him.

Upon entering his modest home, the weariness etched on Jake's face deepened as he faced his wife, Sarah, who was always ready with a litany of complaints.

Sarah: "You're late again, Jake. Can't you do anything right?"

Jake, shoulders slumped, tried to appease her.

Jake: "It was a long day, Sarah. I did my best."

But Sarah's discontent knew no bounds.

Sarah: "Your best is never enough! I regret marrying you, Jake. You can't even provide for us properly."

The weight of her words hung in the air as Jake, exhausted from the day's toil, struggled to find the right response.

Jake: "I'm trying, Sarah. The Harringtons pay well, but it's never enough for you."

Sarah, unsatisfied, stormed into the bedroom, locking the door behind her. The muffled sound of her sobbing reached Jake's ears, amplifying the isolation he felt.

Alone in the dimly lit living room, Jake pondered the choices he had made and the heavy burden of expectations placed upon him.

The echoes of Sarah's disappointment lingered, a constant companion in the silence of their fractured home.

In the quiet moments before dawn, as Jake prepared for another day of challenges, the echoes of his past whispered through his mind. Born into the embrace of poverty, Jake's journey had been a relentless struggle from the very beginning.

As he watered the plants in the Harrington garden, he reflected on his humble origins.

Jake: "Growing up, we had nothing. I worked odd jobs to put myself through school, scraping together every penny."

The memories of long nights spent studying by flickering candlelight lingered as he meticulously pruned the rose bushes.

Jake: "But I made it through. Education was my ticket out of poverty."

Yet, the path to success was not without its pitfalls. Meeting Sarah seemed like a twist of fate, a chance at happiness that would soon turn bittersweet.

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