Marrying My Ex's Ruthless Billionaire Uncle

Chapter 4

Word Count: 652 | Released on: Today at 17:26

e. He had expected her to cry, to beg, to cause a dramatic scene that would validate his ego. Instead, her calm, surgical detach

out instinctively, desperately trying to g

her heel and marched down the sweeping gravel driveway, her spine

es tracked Emaline's retreating figure with a dark, unreadable intensity. He leaned casually against the stone

rbearing, status-obsessed sister-hurried out the heavy oak front

anicured, dismissive hand in Emaline's direction. "Let's focus on actual business. I've been meaning to ta

ced her mid-sentence. He didn't offer a single word of explanation or apology. He simply dropped his cigarette, crushed

at the empty driveway where Emaline had just walked. "If it weren't fo

Emaline was out of the picture, but seeing the sheer, raw masculinity and untouchable power radiating from Abdiel, she temporarily forgot Alastair even existed. Abdiel was a god a

ality. She had no money, no fiancé, and her mother's life was hanging by a terrifyingly thin thread in the ICU at Presbyterian Hospital. The medical bills were piling up into a mount

at the curb, its engine purring with suppressed, aggressive power. The tin

red, his voice br

ed, not breaking her stride, keep

Emaline, before I get out and make a scene," he warned, his voice dr

oulder in the middle of Madison Avenue, she yanked the heavy dihe

she asked, crossing

Chapter End

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Marrying My Ex's Ruthless Billionaire Uncle

Li Xiamo Romance

“My name is Emaline Knight, and I have the worst luck in Manhattan. Twenty-four hours ago I had a fiancé, a future, and a family name worth something. Then my father went bankrupt in a federal scandal, my mother landed in the ICU, and my darling Alastair dumped me by text message-like I was a streaming subscription he forgot to cancel. Did I mention he replaced me with a walking malpractice suit named Tiffany? So yes, I had a few tequilas. And yes, I may have informed the most dangerous man in the city that if I couldn't be Alastair's wife, I'd settle for becoming his aunt. That's how I ended up in the bed of Abdiel Sharpe-the billionaire who owns half of Manhattan and terrifies the other half. He left at dawn without a goodbye. Fine. Whatever. I had bigger problems: my mother's hospital bill was due at five o'clock, and I couldn't afford to keep her alive. I begged at the Hayes mansion. They sneered at me. They called me trash. And then the man I'd slept with-the uncle of the man who broke my heart-walked in, made them grovel, and warned them all to stay out of his sight. He gave me a job at his club. He tried to hand me a million dollars; I handed it back. He keeps appearing like an expensive storm, ruining anyone who dares to lay a hand on me. I keep telling myself he's a one-night mistake with an excellent tailor. But he looks at me like he owns me. And the worst part? Some dark, traitorous part of me wants him to. They say don't bite the hand that feeds you. But I'm not the one biting. He is. Right on my neck.”