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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.The rain hit the city hard, making it feel colder than it really was. Drops sliced through the sky like shards of glass.
I pulled the hood of my worn-out jacket tighter around my face. My fingers trembled, not from the chill but from the letter burning a hole in my pocket. I'd received it earlier today, and it had set everything in motion.
My last name used to mean something. The Marco family was once a powerful name in Spain, running shipping lanes and vineyards.
But after my father's mysterious death and the betrayal that followed, everything came crashing down. I was just seventeen when the wolves showed up.
Bankers, enemies, and traitors came in and stripped us of our legacy. Now, at twenty-three, I was just a shadow of the heiress I used to be.
I was stuck working double shifts at a coffee shop, barely scraping by to pay rent on my tiny apartment with peeling paint and cracked tiles.
But today wasn't about survival; it was about revenge. And it all started with him.
I walked into the lobby of the Seraphim Tower. Sixty floors of glass and steel, radiating danger. Everything about that building screamed power, and it all belonged to one man.
Domain Cross.
They called him "the devil in a suit." Born into the mafia, a billionaire by thirty, and untouchable by the law. Rumors said his hands were stained with blood, but no one had ever proved it. I didn't need proof. My father had whispered his name with his last breath, and that was enough for me.
The elevator doors opened to a private floor. Everything was black marble with silver accents, and the silence pressed down like a weight. I stepped out, my heart pounding as I prepared to face the devil himself.
Damian stood by the window, his back to me. He was tall and broad-shouldered, dressed in a custom black suit that probably cost more than my yearly salary.
His presence filled the room, exuding a stillness that felt almost unnatural. Everything smelled like power, control, and danger.
"You're late," he said, his voice deep and smooth, laced with amusement. I swallowed hard. I didn't realize that I was on your schedule.
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Devils Offer
Blurb: When Claire Marco enters Damian's world, she's just trying to get to the bottom of her father's mysterious death. The powerful and arrogant mafia king offers her a chilling deal: marry him for six months, and he'll spill the secrets she's been dying to uncover. But this bargain comes with/0/35705/coverorgin.jpg?v=f6eb07a00eb47b7ef29c18899c8ea5a9&imageMogr2/format/webp)
The Devils
Man, always lives in wrong ways and sins. No one in the world lives because he is perfect, or because he is sinless. Everything that moves on the earth has him at his fault. Sometimes, you are not aware, that you have committed a sin that you must pay for in the world of the abyss. The sound of deat/0/82182/coverorgin.jpg?v=a0b3f0a72ed6c9089d4a95446958594b&imageMogr2/format/webp)
