Dont Call Me Back Ex husband

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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Bethany pov

After dropping my son, Jason, off at preschool, I headed to the hospital to get my results. I hoped this test would change everything.

Since having Jason, my husband, Fred, had drifted away. Now he was talking about divorce. He said he'd only stayed this long for Jason's sake. Maybe, just maybe, if I got pregnant again, he'd stay.

The test paper crinkled in my hand as I unfolded it, my pulse hammering. My last hope to hold onto him-NEGATIVE.

I felt a wave of cold settle over me. It was my last chance, and it was gone.

Lost in my thoughts, I barely noticed Fred entering. He grabbed the paper from my hands, holding it just out of reach.

"Looking for this?" he asked, voice cold and distant.

"No-I'm not," I stammered, trying to grab it back, but he raised it higher. With a sneer, he tore it in half, letting the pieces flutter to the floor like ash.

"You went for another test? I warned you, Bethany. It's over. Stop trying to trap me."

"Why?" I whispered, voice trembling. "Who is she, Fred? What does she have that I don't?"

He scoffed. "Let's just say she knows how to make me feel alive. Unlike you."

His words hit like a slap. So it was true. He had someone else.

"Fine," I said, my voice barely above a whisper.

"You're a scumbag, Fred. A complete piece of trash."

He stopped, turned, his expression hardening. "What did you just say?"

"I've given you everything, and this is what I get? I should have seen this coming."

His face twisted with anger. "Don't play the victim. If you really cared, you'd be fighting to make this better, not whining about it. I've done my best to make this marriage work, but you-you're just holding me back."

I grabbed his arm, tears streaming down my face. "Fred, please. Don't do this. Don't give up on us."

He pulled away, cold and unfeeling. "I don't need your stories. I need a new life. With someone who isn't... you."

The final blow landed when he added, "Her name is Chantel."

My hand shot up, and I slapped him hard across the face. He stood there, stunned, then turned and walked out.

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