Claimed By My Ex's Powerful Billionaire Uncle

The yellow cab jerked to a halt in front of the luxurious Upper East Side apartment building.

Abigayle tapped her phone against the payment terminal, shoved the heavy door open, and stepped out into the freezing puddles.

The icy water stung the deep cuts on her bare feet, sending sharp jolts of pain up her calves.

She dragged her soaked, shivering body through the grand glass doors of the lobby.

Normally, the doorman would rush forward with a warm smile and an umbrella. Today, he kept his head down, aggressively studying the visitor log, refusing to make eye contact.

A cold knot of unease tightened in Abigayle's stomach.

She limped past the front desk and stepped into the private elevator.

She pressed the button for the penthouse. The mirrored walls of the elevator reflected her disastrous state-her hair plastered to her skull, her black trench coat dripping water onto the pristine floor.

The elevator chimed. The doors slid open.

Instead of the quiet, scent-filled foyer of her home, she was hit with a wall of chaotic noise.

The heavy double doors of the penthouse were propped wide open.

Four men in dirty, scuffed work boots were aggressively hauling her mother's priceless antique console table out of the living room.

"Hey!" Abigayle screamed, her voice cracking as she stumbled out of the elevator. "What are you doing? Put that down!"

A massive man with a thick neck and a clipboard turned around. He looked her up and down, his eyes lingering on her wet, clinging coat with a disgusting smirk.

"We're the repo team, sweetheart," the boss grunted, tapping his clipboard.

He shoved a crumpled piece of paper toward her face. It was a court-issued asset freeze order.

"The news broke this morning. Pena Group has filed for bankruptcy protection. Everything in this unit belongs to the bank now."

Abigayle felt the blood drain from her head.

The floor seemed to tilt beneath her feet.

Bankrupt? It was impossible. Her family's company was a titan.

"Miss Abigayle!"

A frail, panicked voice broke through the noise.

Thaddeus, the family's loyal butler who had practically raised her, stumbled out of the hallway.

His uniform was torn, and a dark purple bruise was already swelling on his cheekbone.

He rushed forward, catching Abigayle by the arms just as her knees began to buckle.

"Thaddeus, what happened to your face?" Abigayle gasped, gripping his sleeves. "Where are my parents? Where is Miles?"

Thaddeus's eyes filled with tears, his hands shaking violently.

"The stock crashed at the opening bell, Miss," Thaddeus sobbed, his voice breaking. "A massive short sell. The funds are gone."

Abigayle couldn't breathe. Her lungs felt like they were packed with cotton.

"My father..." she choked out.

"Mr. Pena had a heart attack in his office when the news broke," Thaddeus wept. "He's in the ICU. And Miles... Miles was rushing to the office. His car was run off the road. He's in a coma, Miss."

The words hit her like physical bullets.

Her father dying. Her brother bleeding. Her family destroyed.

Abigayle swayed, her vision going black at the edges. She leaned heavily against Thaddeus, a strangled, animal-like sound escaping her throat.

"Alright, enough of the soap opera," the repo boss barked, waving his hand dismissively. "Get those paintings off the walls. Move it!"

Two men walked toward the original Monet hanging above the fireplace.

The grief inside Abigayle instantly mutated into a blinding, white-hot rage.

She pushed off Thaddeus and threw herself in front of the fireplace, spreading her arms wide to block the painting.

"Don't touch it!" she screamed, her chest heaving. "Until the final court ruling, these are personal effects. You have no right to take them!"

The repo boss chuckled, a nasty, grating sound.

He walked slowly toward her, his heavy boots thudding against the hardwood floor.

"You ain't a princess anymore, honey," he sneered, stopping inches from her face.

He smelled like stale tobacco and sweat.

His eyes dropped to the V-neck of her trench coat, where the fabric had slipped, exposing the bruises on her collarbone.

"Tell you what," he whispered, reaching out a filthy, calloused hand to grab her chin. "You be nice to me, and maybe I'll leave a mattress for you to sleep on tonight."

Bile rose in Abigayle's throat.

She jerked her head away, raising her hand and slapping his thick wrist hard.

"Don't touch me, you piece of trash," she spat, her eyes blazing with fury.

The boss's face darkened. The smirk vanished, replaced by violent anger.

"Stupid bitch," he growled.

He shoved both hands hard against her shoulders.

Abigayle flew backward.

Her bare, bleeding feet slipped on the polished wood. She crashed violently into the solid marble wall beside the fireplace.

The impact knocked the wind out of her lungs. She slid down the wall, gasping for air.

"Miss Abigayle!" Thaddeus screamed.

The old man threw himself at the boss, trying to punch him.

The boss didn't even flinch. He simply raised his heavy work boot and kicked Thaddeus squarely in the stomach.

Thaddeus collapsed to the floor, curling into a tight ball, wheezing in agony.

Abigayle watched the old man fall.

The world narrowed down to the pounding of her heart and the heavy footsteps of the repo boss as he closed the distance, trapping her in the corner of her own ruined home.