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Jilted Heiress: Seducing My Fiancé's Ruthless Uncle

Chapter 3 No.3

Word Count: 742    |    Released on: 22/01/2026

tition

was a sealed capsule o

folded in her lap, but her fingers were tappin

end with a precise, metallic snip. The sound was loud in the quiet car. He li

d from his lips. "Now you can go bac

She looked at him.

ad destroyed companies, ruined lives, an

right now, he was the onl

show me tha

gged. "Ent

s a sitcom. A traged

her. If she was a toy, she would b

the top button o

mouth. His eyes flicked down, then

first button.

the curve of her collarbone. A dark, purp

rd him. She moved off the seat and onto her kn

ent game," Ivy said.

r chin, his fingers digging into

duce me? To get

on and his inheritance. Imagine what would happen if he found

dark, low sound. "You're

pressed it against her cheek. She le

e whispered. "I don't car

r changed. It bec

im anymore. He was looking at a potential accomp

gar into the ashtray.

k of her neck and

be my mistres

to bleed. You want to watch the world bu

es need equal levera

ainst the pulse point of his throat. She fe

sure you're never bored," sh

ate gamble. But it was

hair. He pulled her head bac

ove

before. It was possessive. It was a co

had. She poured her rage, her fear

the skin beneath. The car seemed to shr

nd shattere

Ring

c, cheerful mel

uth moved to her neck, biting down o

e, which was on the floor.

flashed a n

t it. Her st

ack slightly.

ted with mali

it," he

her head.

oved his hand lower, sliding it u

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Jilted Heiress: Seducing My Fiancé's Ruthless Uncle
Jilted Heiress: Seducing My Fiancé's Ruthless Uncle
“I stood in the center of the Pierre Hotel's grand ballroom, a mute, smiling doll in a Dior dress. My job was to signal stability to investors while my fiancé, Clive Fitzpatrick, looked for any excuse to ignore me. The night of our engagement, the world turned into a different kind of hell. I watched Clive disappear onto the terrace with another woman, his hand possessively on her waist. Distraught and drunk, I stumbled into a dark penthouse suite seeking sanctuary. I woke up the next morning to a gravelly voice and the smell of expensive tobacco. I hadn't slept with my fiancé; I had accidentally spent the night with his uncle, Bruno Fitzpatrick-the man Wall Street called the "executioner." The humiliation was only the beginning. Clive didn't just cheat; he admitted he was only marrying me to steal my family's voting rights so I could "rot" in an apartment while he lived with his mistress. When I tried to protest, my adoptive mother, Claudia, dragged me into a private room and whipped me with a riding crop to remind me of my place. She held up a video of my frail, sick sister, Lucia, making it clear that my total obedience was the only thing keeping Lucia alive. I was a business asset to be traded, used, and beaten into submission. I couldn't understand why everyone I was supposed to trust was so eager to destroy me. Was I really just a mannequin to be discarded once the merger papers were signed? The marks on my back burned, but the ice in my veins was colder. I was done being the victim of a mediocre man and a heartless mother. Then Bruno offered me a way out. At the family dinner, right in front of my cheating fiancé, he proposed a lethal bet: if I could raise the company's stock by ten percent in thirty days, he would give me his board veto-the ultimate power to crush Clive and Claudia forever. If I failed, I would owe him any favor he asked. I looked at the man who had ruined me and the man who wanted to own me, and I realized I had nothing left to lose. I wasn't going to be a doll anymore; I was going to be the one who burned the house down.”