Claimed By The Uncle: My Sweet Revenge

Chapter 7 No.7

Word Count: 567 | Released on: 30/01/2026

ion. Black marble floors, white walls, grey furnitu

ve bedroom. The entire far wall was glass, look

King said. "This i

d. "Where is t

ou're not staying in the guest room. We

Adeline's che

, looming over her. "You weren't

from his briefcase and drop

. Strategic Consulti

ense, but the meaning was clear. She would provide in

opped at the

mity to the Client for the duration of the project, to facilitate real-time

e looked up. "It's a lea

and. "Clarity prevents misunderstandings. And I expect yo

can refuse. The front gate is a

f Preston's face when he shoved her into the mu

everage. She

ide table. Her hand shook, but she signed her name.

of a wolf that had just corn

active. Ir

"Clause one: Go wash. Scrub

ssive stone tub was already filled wit

nd the lingering feeling of Preston's grip. When she looked in the mirror,

a black silk robe she f

the edge of the bed, reading a file. He was wearing wire-ri

is gaze darkene

him. He pulled her

de to mask the sound of

te and whiskey, then deepened into something starving

em?" Adeline whisper

gh to sting. "I will leave them w

massive bed, wrapped in King's arms. She didn't

Chapter End

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Claimed By The Uncle: My Sweet Revenge

Mo Xiaoxiao Modern

“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.”