Surviving my mate

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

Download the Book on the App

Kenzie dragged in a sharp, jagged breath, her lungs burning as if she had just inhaled broken glass.

Her eyes snapped open. The cold, unforgiving bite of a metal floor pressed against her cheek. Her chest heaved. The phantom sensation of rotting hands tearing at her clothes—the last memory of her death on Earth—still crawled across her skin.

A violent wave of nausea hit her. She pressed her palms against the floor, trying to push herself up, but a sudden, blinding pain split her skull.

Memories that didn't belong to her slammed into her brain. Extravagant parties. Cruel laughter. A high-society monster named Kenzie Banks. She gagged, her stomach twisting into a tight, agonizing knot.

A low, guttural snarl vibrated through the room. It was a sound born of pure, unadulterated murder.

Her head snapped up.

Through the dim, blue-tinted lighting of the massive bedroom, she saw him. He was chained to the far wall like a rabid animal. Heavy alloy restraints dug into his wrists and throat. His bare chest was a canvas of fresh, bleeding whip marks and dark bruises.

Josue.

His silver hair hung in his face, but it couldn't hide his eyes. They were a toxic, glowing green. He stared at her throat, his jaw clenched so tight she could hear his teeth grinding. He looked exactly like a man calculating how much force it would take to snap her neck.

She scrambled backward, her survival instincts taking over. Her spine slammed hard against the base of a massive bedpost.

Ding.

A sharp electronic chime pierced her brain.

"AI Sev activated," a lifeless, mechanical voice echoed inside her skull. "Warning. Current host possesses a critical negative reputation. According to the Interstellar Marriage Act, your contract beast-husbands possess the legal right to execute you at the end of the two-month trial period."

Her breath caught in her throat.

A glowing red holographic timer materialized in her line of sight. Sixty days. Counting down.

She tried to mentally scream at the AI, demanding to know how this was legal, but the numbers just kept ticking.

Josue saw her wide, terrified eyes. He mistook her panic for anticipation. He thought she was getting off on his pain.

He lunged forward.

The heavy alloy chains snapped taut with a deafening crack. The metal bit deep into his raw wounds. Fresh blood spilled down his pale skin, dripping onto the floor. He didn't even flinch. The murderous intent in his green eyes only burned hotter.

Her stomach plummeted. The memories of what the original Kenzie had done to him flooded her mind. The electroshocks. The starvation. The humiliation.

She needed a weapon. Now.

She closed her eyes and reached deep into her consciousness, searching for the subspace inventory she had relied on during the apocalypse on Earth.

"Access denied," Sev's cold voice chimed. "Host biological energy level is insufficient. Subspace locked."

Her eyes snapped open. Her hands shook. She was trapped in a weak, pampered body with absolutely nothing to defend herself against a man who wanted to wear her intestines as a necklace.

Josue let out a harsh, broken laugh. His voice was shredded, like he had been screaming for days.

Read Now