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Claimed By The Uncle: My Sweet Revenge

Chapter 4 No.4

Word Count: 609    |    Released on: 30/01/2026

ut off. The sudden silence i

othing the front of his jacket. He looked n

st, immaculate in a charcoal grey su

er, Adeline

's jaw

had been stitched on her body. Her hair was damp, combed back

ked out. "What the hel

rnum. She looked at King. He was pouring hi

mentary clauses of the pren

linked. "That's for the

on't trust your legal team with the Golden Media equit

very ounce of hatred she felt for the ma

. potential risks, Preston," s

the damp hair, the early hour-but the fear of h

d. "Right. Thank

ince you're here. The Macau investm

m his face so fast he looked like a

don't want to see anything

was gone, replaced by the trembling of a scolde

have a meeting. Silas, driv

ckly, stepping toward Adeline. His hand

Adeline's sleeve. For a second, the air i

derstands the gravity of the equity

e," Preston said, misinterp

ocating. Preston stared at her

t wait. He grabbed her wrist, his grip bruis

ston hissed, shoving her toward the valet stan

evator bank. King was standing in the shadows of the l

vior. He was her weapon. And weapons di

line said coldly. "You just sign what

Wait until you see Carmella. Then

into the back

y, King touche

the empty air. "I want Preston's offsh

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Claimed By The Uncle: My Sweet Revenge
Claimed By The Uncle: My Sweet Revenge
“I was the "crazy girl" my family sent to a survivalist commune in Utah to rot. Four years later, I returned to Manhattan with a titanium USB drive and a heart full of ice, ready to blackmail the one man who could burn my family to the ground. But I underestimated how much they hated me. My fiancé, Preston, was already laundering money through my inheritance and sleeping with my replacement. He didn't even flinch when I showed him the evidence of his crimes. Instead, he grabbed me by the shoulders, smashed my phone, and shoved me out of his moving Lincoln into a midnight storm. I hit the wet pavement hard, my knees scraping against the asphalt as I watched him drive away, laughing about how I was a "dirt-poor exile" that nobody wanted. Within minutes, my credit cards were flagged as stolen and my father's lawyers were drafting a statement calling me mentally unstable. I was left shivering in a puddle of oily sludge, wearing a ruined Chanel suit, with no money, no home, and no one to hear me scream. I couldn't understand how they could be so cruel. I was their flesh and blood, yet they treated me like a broken toy to be discarded in the trash. I was a "distressed asset" in a city that only valued gold. That's when a black armored SUV pulled to the curb. King Wagner-the ruthless shark of Wall Street and Preston's own uncle-looked at my muddy face with cold, calculating eyes. He didn't offer me pity; he offered me a leash. "You belong to me now," he whispered, pulling me into the dry warmth of his car. By the next morning, he had announced our engagement to the world, turning me into the very weapon that would slit my family's throat.”