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Modern Stories

Married To My Ex-Fiancé's Silent Uncle

Married To My Ex-Fiancé's Silent Uncle

4.5
Modern Ming Yue

Twenty minutes before the "Wedding of the Century" at The Plaza, I stood outside the Presidential Suite in a fifty-thousand-dollar Vera Wang gown. I was the girl from a West Virginia trailer park about to marry Hugh Maxwell, the golden heir to a billion-dollar defense empire. I pushed the door open only to find Hugh pinned against the bed with my own stepsister, Floy. She was wearing my bridal diamond necklace, and the sounds of their laughter scraped against my eardrums like sandpaper. I didn't scream; I listened as Hugh grunted that once the wedding was over and the trust fund unlocked, he'd dump "that hillbilly trash" on a bus back to the mountains. They weren't just cheating; they were planning to steal my family's land deeds and leave me with nothing. When I set off the sprinklers and exposed their naked bodies to the paparazzi, the Maxwell family didn't apologize. They called me a "greedy peasant" and threatened to ruin my life unless I signed a new deal to save their crashing stock. I realized then that I was never a bride to them. I was a transaction, a rounding error in a ledger to be used and discarded. They thought my poverty made me weak and my silence made me a victim. "If we don't have a marriage certificate by midnight, the bank freezes thirty percent of our liquidity," their lawyer warned. So, I gave them exactly what they wanted. I used a loophole in their hundred-year-old family covenant and married the only other direct heir available. I didn't marry Hugh. I walked into the ICU and married his uncle, Fleet Maxwell-the legendary war hero who had been in a vegetative state for months. Now, I am the matriarch of the Maxwell dynasty. I've suspended Hugh's executive powers, exiled my mother-in-law to the Swiss Alps, and taken control of the family vault. They think I'm just a gold-digger waiting for a "corpse" to die so I can collect a fifty-million-dollar widow's payout. But last night, as I lay beside my comatose husband, the man they called a vegetable gripped my hand back.

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Jilted Heiress: Marrying The Untouchable Tycoon

Jilted Heiress: Marrying The Untouchable Tycoon

4.5
Modern Piao Guo

Allison Montgomery was waiting at the airport when an audio alert from her parked Range Rover flashed on her phone. Assuming it was a break-in, she checked the live dashcam feed, only to see her fiancé, Finn, and her younger sister, Cheyanne, passionately making out in the backseat. "Tell me I'm better than her," Cheyanne whispered. "Tell me I'm better than Allison." "You are," Finn gasped. "God, you are." When Allison confronted her family with the video, she expected justice. Instead, her uncle and mother fiercely defended the cheaters. They blamed Allison's "cold and frigid" nature for pushing Finn away, victim-blaming her in front of the entire household staff. To protect their corporate alliance, her uncle ruthlessly announced that the engagement would be transferred to Cheyanne, and threatened to strip Allison of her inheritance. Stripped of her fiancé, her family, and her dignity, Allison realized her pristine twenty-year life was a complete lie. The people who were supposed to love her were actively protecting her abusers, leaving her utterly isolated and burning with a cold, protective rage. Refusing to be their victim, Allison targeted Finn's ruthless, billionaire uncle, Adam Kensington, proposing a fake marriage to secure the capital needed to crush her family. But when the notoriously untouchable Wall Street phantom not only accepted her proposal, but demanded she immediately move into his penthouse to raise his secret daughter, Allison realized she had just sold her soul to the devil.

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Divorce Me? Pay Ten Billion Dollars First

Divorce Me? Pay Ten Billion Dollars First

5.0
Modern Huang Xiaohuai

For four years, Kasie Carlisle played the flawless wife to the wealthy Byrd family heir. Then, a notification on their shared tablet shattered everything: a photo of her husband, Harris, naked in bed with her college friend. Before Kasie could confront him, her mother-in-law called. She'd known about the affair for months. She'd already prepared divorce papers. One million dollars to disappear quietly. "For a girl from your background, that's more than you could earn in a lifetime." Kasie smiled. Cold. Sharp. Terrifying. "My price is ten billion. And half of everything." She had the evidence. She had the leverage. And Margo had no choice but to sign. So Kasie played the oblivious wife while Harris, blind to the trap closing around him, paraded his mistress through their home, laughed as his friends mocked her in public, and dragged her across a ballroom floor when she finally fought back. Then came the black SUV, deliberately ramming her car off the highway. Bleeding and concussed in the hospital, she watched Harris storm in—not to comfort her, but to accuse her of staging a suicide attempt for attention. He threw her blood-stained anniversary dress in the trash. He whispered sweet nothings to his mistress on the phone while she lay in the next room. He never suspected a thing. Lying in the dark, Kasie felt the last ember of her love turn to ash. She had almost died, and he only cared about how it made him look. So she stopped fighting. Feigning complete defeat, she resigned from the family business, told Harris she was emotionally broken, and asked for a solo trip to Italy to clear her head. As Harris smugly booked her flight, believing he had finally tamed his disobedient wife, Kasie picked up her phone and texted her lawyer. "The fish is on the hook. Initiate phase two." He never saw it coming.

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