Married My Ex's Hockey King Uncle: Now My Family Begs

Chapter 6

Word Count: 716 | Released on: Today at 18:22

n P

sive windows, hitting my face. I woke

left side were perfectly smooth and com

I pulled on a soft, cream-colored Loro Pian

e. He wore a crisp white dress shirt, the sleeves rolled up to his forearms. H

silencing his assistant. He poin

e table, but my eyes locked onto a thick sta

Rhett gestured to him. "This is a senior Private Judge who handles confidential

tration papers across the marble. "Just your signat

I was no longer the punching bag of the Hale

n. Without a single tremor i

ive stroke of my pen. A flash of

vy metal seal. "By the power vested in

d out a black Centurion Card and slid it acro

ed. In my past life, I had to beg Diane for coffee mo

brated violently agai

lit up. D

like a siren. I stared at it. It rang again,

s coffee. "Do you want me to have the telecom compan

ook my head. "Some tumors

reen and hit th

thouse. "You shameless little bitch! How dare you cra

"You will explain this to the family, and you will sign over your shares i

venom. My eyes wer

dead flat. "But not to explain. I'

ding the call. I immedi

und the table, and stopped right behind my chair. He p

as a dark, violent whisper. "Do you want me

s tone. But a rush of absolute power flooded m

ing a sledgehammer to kill a roach is a waste o

He looked at his assist

e house down if you want. No matter

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Married My Ex's Hockey King Uncle: Now My Family Begs

Ive Gutterson Romance

“The last time I wore this wedding dress, my fiancé ran out on me. Twenty minutes before our wedding, Preston Vance got a phone call. His first love, Bri, had fallen at skating practice and broken her leg. "I have to go," he said. "Make up an excuse." In my last life, I begged him to stay. I cried until my throat bled. He left anyway. Three years later, my adopted sister framed me, and my own family threw me out into a Chicago blizzard. I called Preston with frozen fingers. I heard Bri giggling before he hung up. My mother left me a voicemail: "Die in the street, Wren. Just don't bleed on my carpets." So I died. Then I opened my eyes in my wedding dress, on the same morning, twenty minutes before the ceremony. This time, I didn't beg. I let him go. My sister told me to go apologize to the guests. I slapped her hand away. My mother told me to say the wedding was off, and that it was all my fault. "The wedding is not being postponed," I said. "I'm going to get a new groom." There was only one man in that cathedral Preston was afraid of. His uncle. Rhett Kincaid. Captain of the Chicago Wardens. The most feared man in the NHL. In my last life, he was the one who covered my frozen body with his own coat and buried me when my family wouldn't. "If you sign this, there's no backing out," he told me. "Ever." "I have nothing left to lose." Ten minutes later, every screen in the cathedral changed from PRESTON & WREN to RHETT & WREN. Six hundred guests watched him slide the Vance family ring onto my finger and kiss me in front of every camera in Chicago. Now my family wants me to divorce him and crawl back. Preston just saw the photo. And my new husband just told me: "Tear the house down if you want. No matter what mess you make, I will bury it."”