Claimed By The Billionaire's Uncle

Emelia's voice trembled as she spoke, the words catching in her throat, her heart shattering with every breath. "But I love you, Damian! How can you say those things to me?" She stood in the middle of their vast, cold bedroom, her hands trembling as she reached for him, desperation consuming her every word. Her tears cascaded down her cheeks, raw and unfiltered, her chest heaving as she struggled to find the air to speak.

Damian stood by the door, his arms crossed, his jaw clenched in that familiar, cold mask of indifference. "Love?" He scoffed, his voice venomous. "You think this is love, Emelia? You were never supposed to be in this marriage. It was always Isabella. She's the one I love. She's the one who deserves me. You? You're just a stand-in, a mistake I was forced to live with." His words were like daggers, each one sinking deeper into Emelia's heart.

Her chest tightened as she tried to hold herself together. "But I didn't ask for this! I didn't want any of this, Damian. It was your grandfather's wish, you know that! I thought... I thought we could make this work."

Damian shook his head, a cruel laugh escaping his lips. "Make it work? Emelia, open your eyes. There's nothing here to fix. You're just a figurehead, something I had to deal with because of my inheritance. But guess what? I don't care anymore. I don't want it. I don't want you."

Her voice cracked as she pleaded, taking a step closer to him. "Damian, please... We've known each other since we were kids. There was a time when you loved me. I know you did. What changed? Why are you doing this? Why can't we-"

"What changed?" Damian snapped, his eyes blazing with fury. "You changed, Emelia. You think I could ever love someone like you? Pathetic, desperate, clinging to a marriage that was over before it even began. Isabella is everything you're not-beautiful, smart, confident. She doesn't drag me down like you do."

Emelia flinched at his words, her body trembling as she struggled to breathe through the pain. "I've done everything for you, Damian," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "I gave up everything. My family hates me because of this marriage. They blame me for everything. But I stayed because I thought... I thought we could find our way back to each other."

"Your family hates you because they know the truth," Damian said, his voice cold and heartless. "You were never meant to be in this life. You're nothing but an obstacle. Isabella is the one I want. I've always wanted her."

Emelia's knees nearly buckled beneath her, her world crumbling as she watched the man she had loved her entire life turn into a stranger before her eyes. "Please, Damian... please don't leave me."

His eyes darkened with disgust. "You still don't get it, do you? I'm already gone. I've been gone for years. Sign the divorce papers, Emelia. Get out of my house. I can't stand the sight of you anymore."

Tears poured down her face, her hands trembling as she reached out one last time, desperate to cling to the pieces of her broken life. "Damian, please... don't do this."

He shoved her away, his grip bruising as he pushed her back. "Enough, Emelia. I don't love you, and I never will. I'm done pretending. Sign the papers and get the hell out of my life."

She stumbled back, her arm throbbing from where he had gripped her. Her eyes locked on his, searching for any trace of the man she once knew, the boy she had fallen in love with all those years ago. But there was nothing. Just emptiness.

Damian turned his back on her, walking out of the room without another word, leaving Emelia standing alone, the silence of the spacious bedroom suffocating her.

She collapsed onto the bed, sobs wracking her body, her heart splintering with each tear that fell. Her gaze drifted to the wedding picture on the wall-a reminder of a love that never existed. Her smile had been so bright that day, so full of hope. But Damian's face had been cold, emotionless, even then. She should have seen it. She should have known.

Her hand fell to her bruised arm, and a wave of bitterness washed over her. How had she allowed herself to become this? A shadow of the woman she used to be. Trapped in a marriage that had only brought her pain.

"I'm done," she whispered to herself, her voice barely audible. She stood up, wiping the tears from her face, her eyes now dry, void of emotion. She was done begging. Done being weak.

Her gaze landed on the divorce papers on the table, and a bitter laugh escaped her lips. "So, this is how it ends." She picked up the pen, her hand steady now, and signed her name with a finality that felt like freedom.

As she finished, she looked up at her reflection in the mirror. "You'll regret this, Damian," she whispered, a fire igniting in her chest. "You and everyone else will regret underestimating me."

With one last glance at the picture on the wall, Emelia walked out of the room, leaving the shattered pieces of her old life behind. She had made her decision.

Tonight, she would have her fun. And tomorrow, she would be gone-for good.

The karaoke bar was dimly lit, its neon signs flickering lazily in shades of purple and blue. The place had an old-school charm, with its worn leather booths, sticky floors, and outdated pop songs playing in the background. Despite the slightly shabby atmosphere, the place was a sanctuary for those who didn't want to be seen-perfect for Emelia.

She pushed through the door, her movements sluggish, still reeling from her earlier confrontation with Damian. The weight of his words pressed heavily on her chest, suffocating her. She had spent too many nights drowning in heartbreak, but tonight, she needed something stronger. Something that would silence the pain, even if just for a moment.

The bartender, a tall man with a sympathetic face, spotted her immediately as she approached the counter. His brow furrowed at the sight of her swollen eyes and the way her shoulders slumped in defeat.

"Rough night?" he asked softly, already reaching for the whiskey bottle behind the counter.

Emelia nodded, her voice barely above a whisper. "You have no idea..."

He slid the drink toward her, the amber liquid sloshing gently in the glass. "On the house tonight. You look like you need it."

Emelia's fingers curled around the glass, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. She managed a weak smile, though it didn't reach her eyes. "Thanks... I do."

She took a long sip, letting the burn of the alcohol spread through her chest. The bartender leaned in slightly, his voice low. "You know, Emelia... it's been a while since you've been here. I thought things were getting better."

She let out a bitter laugh, shaking her head. "Better? No. They're worse. Much worse." Her voice was barely audible as she muttered, "what was I even thinking?"

He frowned but didn't press further. He'd seen enough broken souls come through those doors to know when not to pry.

Just then, a young man approached her with a slight bow, holding out a key card. "Miss Emelia," he said, his voice soft and unsure, "your room is ready. I'll show you the way."

Emelia nodded, draining the rest of her drink before standing. Her legs wobbled slightly from the alcohol, but she steadied herself. She grabbed the bottle the bartender had left for her, thanked him with a small nod, and followed the young man down the dimly lit hallway.

The air grew colder as they walked, and the distant sound of muffled singing filled the narrow corridor. The walls were adorned with old concert posters and dim blue lights that flickered occasionally, casting long shadows.

When they reached the door, Emelia stumbled slightly, the weight of her emotions finally catching up with her. Without warning, she broke down into sobs, her shoulders shaking as she stood before the young man.

"I-I'm sorry..." she choked out between sobs. "I just... I don't know what to do anymore... I've tried my best! I tried to be a good wife! A good daughter in-law! W- why? Why proceed with the marriage if you were going to torture me?" she sobbed as snot stained her already reddened face.

The boy froze, his eyes wide in discomfort. He wasn't sure how to respond. "Uh... it's okay, Miss Emelia," he stammered, shifting on his feet awkwardly. "I-uh-hope things get better?"

He turned to leave with an awkward expression on his face. "Marriage isn't necessary. Why jump into it blindly?" he sighed as he glanced at the duplicate key number in his hands. Right as he was about to excuse himself, he suddenly collided with something hard-or rather, someone-solid and imposing.

A bulky figure stood before him, blocking the narrow hallway. The boy swallowed hard, stepping back as he looked up at the man. He had seen him a few times before, lingering around the bar, always watching Emelia from a distance. He didn't know much about him, but something about the man made his skin crawl.

"I... I didn't mean to..." the boy started, his voice trailing off as the man's gaze fell on him.

The bulky man raised an eyebrow, his expression unreadable. "What's the situation?" His voice was low and authoritative, a deep rumble that made the boy stiffen.

The boy lowered his gaze, his hands fidgeting nervously. "She hasn't been here in over a month. I thought maybe she'd fixed things with her husband, but... seeing her now, I guess things didn't turn out well."

The man's expression darkened slightly, his jaw tightening. He hummed in response, his gaze drifting toward the door where Emelia's muffled sobs could still be heard.

"Leave," the man commanded, his voice leaving no room for argument.

The boy nodded quickly, backing away. "Yes, sir."

Without another word, he turned on his heel and hurried down the hallway, his heart pounding in his chest. He didn't know who the man was, but he had a feeling it was better that way.

The bulky man stood in front of the door for a moment, listening to Emelia's quiet sobs on the other side. His expression softened for the briefest moment, a flicker of something almost tender crossing his face. But then, just as quickly, his eyes darkened, hardening with resolve, anger and something similar to hatred. "That bastard!" he mumbled under his breath.

He opened the door quietly and stepped inside. The room was bathed in soft, blue light, and Emelia sat slumped on the leather couch, her bottle half-empty on the table beside her. Her face was buried in her hands, her sobs now quiet whimpers as a song played in the background.

He watched her for a moment, his presence unnoticed, before finally speaking. "Emelia."

She froze at the sound of his voice, her heart skipping a beat. Slowly, she lifted her head, her tear-streaked eyes locking onto the figure standing in the doorway. Her breath caught in her throat as she took in the sight of him, her mind spinning in disbelief, fear and horror.

"It's you..."

The blue lights of the karaoke room flickered dimly as Emelia's drunken glare focused on the tall figure standing before her. Her vision blurred, her mind clouded by alcohol and heartbreak, she could barely make out his features. But in her haze, she convinced herself it was Damian. The man who had shattered her heart just hours earlier.

"Leave me alone, Damian!" she slurred, stumbling to her feet, gripping the karaoke microphone like a weapon. She waved it at him, her hand shaking. "I already signed the damn papers! You can go run off with Isabella. Go! I don't want to see your face again!"

The man's brow furrowed slightly, but a flicker of amusement crossed his face. He stood still, watching her with an unreadable expression. He wasn't Damian, and it seemed Emelia was too intoxicated to realize it. But something in her words caught his attention.

"She must have signed the divorce papers," he thought to himself. His chest tightened in satisfaction, a wave of happiness surging through him at the thought of Emelia finally breaking free from the man who had been nothing but a curse, and a burden to her. Damian was out of the picture. Good.

Still, the sight of her-a mess of tears, whisky, and pain-made him want to fix everything in a single stroke. He ignored the microphone she was waving at him and took two long strides toward her.

Before Emelia could react, his large hand grabbed hers, pulling her toward him with little effort. Her chest collided with his lower torso, her head barely reaching his chest. At 5'5", she was dwarfed by his towering 6'8" frame.

"What the hell are you doing?!" she yelled, trying to wriggle free from his grasp, her voice rising in panic. She struggled against him, her free hand pushing weakly against his chest, but he didn't budge. "Damian, let me go! Haven't you done enough? I gave you three years of my life. Three years! I regret every single moment. .I curse the day I met you! You wouldn't have agreed to the darn marriage if you were going to hurt me this bad!"

The man's jaw tightened, but he remained patient. She didn't know who he was, not yet. He sighed softly, his voice deep but calm. "I'm not Damian."

Her movements faltered. The anger that had fueled her just moments ago flickered out as confusion set in. She blinked, squinting up at him, her tears blurring her vision. "Y- you're... not?"

She rubbed her eyes with the back of her hand thereby accidentally smearing her mascara across his shirt. When she finally looked up at him again, reality crashed down on her. This wasn't Damian. His face was different. His temperament was different. His presence, too. And the way he held her-it wasn't cruel or filled with hatred, not like Damian's rough grip.

Panic flared in her chest, and she instinctively tried to pull away again. "Who-who are you? Let me go! Did he send you to kidnap me? I don't worth anything! Please..." Her voice trembled at the end. "please let me go."

Seeing how vulnerable and broken she was, the inexplicable urge to crush Damien grew a thousand fold. However, e didn't release her. Instead, his grip tightened, but not painfully. His other hand came up, resting against her shoulder, his voice calm yet firm. "Emelia, calm down."

Her heart raced in her chest, her mind spinning in confusion and fear. She wanted to fight, to scream, but there was something in his voice, something in the way he spoke her name that made her pause. The blaring alarms that screamed danger suddenly went silent.

"Why are you doing this?" she whispered, her voice breaking. "What do you want from me? I'm nobody... I don't even deserve to be here. No one has ever defended me. No one loves me. They all hate me! My parents regret having me, my twin sister accused me if stealing her man! No one cares."

He silenced her with a gentle press of his thumb over her trembling lips. "I'm not nobody," he said, his voice low but filled with determination. His index finger lifted her chin towards his gaze, "And I'm going to make sure the people who made you cry-who made you feel like this-suffer."

Emelia froze, her wide, tear-filled eyes staring up at him in disbelief. His words hit her like a punch to the gut, and she wasn't sure if it was the alcohol or the raw emotion of the moment, but something in her broke. Tears poured down her face, her breath coming in shallow gasps.

"Why would you... why would you help me?" she whispered, her voice barely audible. "Why would a stranger like you care? Nobody has ever cared. I'm just... I wasn't even supposed to exist. My own family didn't want me."

The man's eyes darkened with anger at her words. His grip on her softened, but he didn't let go. "I'm not a stranger, Emelia," he said, his voice quiet but fierce. "I'm someone who cares about you more than you realize. And I don't care what your family thinks. You deserve to be here. You deserve better."

The man sighed as he thought, "You have no idea of how long I've been waiting for you."

Emelia sniffed, her tears mixing with the remnants of her makeup. Her heart felt like it was shattering all over again, but his words stirred something inside her-a flicker of hope she hadn't felt in years. But she couldn't believe it. She couldn't let herself believe it. She would risk passing through the same pain.

"I don't need anyone to fight for me," she mumbled as she forced herself away from his grip, raising the whiskey bottle to her lips and taking a large gulp, her hands trembling. "I'm running away. I've already made up my mind. I'm leaving for France. I'm going to start over."

The man raised an eyebrow, watching her with a mixture of curiosity and amusement. "Oh, really?"

Emelia nodded, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. "Yeah. I'm done with this place. Done with everything. I'll go to France, start a new life... forget all of this ever happened."

"Don't you want your revenge?" The man's lips curled into a smirk, his eyes gleaming with something unreadable.

Emelia rolled her eyes as she twirled in a drunken haze and picked up the mic. "Revenge? I'll only do that when I have a fat thigh to hug."

He leaned in slightly, his voice dropping to a low, almost dangerous whisper.

"If that's the case," he said softly, "let me give you a gift."