Claimed By My Fiancé's Ruthless Uncle
I spent our third anniversary alone in our penthouse, adjusting a white rose and waiting for a man who didn't want to come home. When my fiancé, Chris Osborne, finally arrived, he didn't notice the 1982 Lafite or the dinner I’d prepared. He looked at me with disgust, calling my desire for a wedding date "pressure" before storming out to a private club.
I followed him, hiding behind a marble pillar at The Vault as I recorded his voice on my phone. He was laughing with his friends about a $20 million bet. He called me a "boring ice queen" and a "marble statue," explaining that he only needed to keep me around until the merger closed so he could steal my shares and "cut me loose." To make it worse, my own father was in on it, prioritizing his stock price over his daughter's life.
Broken and barefoot in a torrential Manhattan downpour, I sought refuge at the Four Seasons. I collapsed into the arms of a tall, dangerous-looking stranger and begged him to take me upstairs. I wanted to be erased, to forget the transaction my life had become. After a night of salt and desperation, I left my engagement ring on his nightstand as payment for services rendered and fled.
The next morning, I realized I had jumped from the frying pan into the furnace. My "stranger" wasn't a nobody. He was Gallagher Osborne—the ruthless patriarch of the family and my fiancé’s uncle. He tracked me to a private clinic, trapping me in a room while holding my medical file and the ring I’d discarded. He told me I was his now, and that he’d dismantle Chris piece by piece if I didn't comply.
I was a piece of currency to my father, a bet to my fiancé, and a prize to his uncle. I had no allies, no escape, and no mercy left. I realized that being the "perfect daughter" had only made me a target. If they wanted to play games with the "Ice Queen," I decided to give them a frostbite they would never forget.
I trashed my art gallery, backdated a diagnosis for a psychotic break, and sent a cryptic suicide note to Chris. As Gallagher watched from the shadows and Chris panicked over his investment, I began the process of scorching the earth. The merger was still happening, but I wasn't the bride anymore—I was the wrecking ball.
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Chapter 7
It was 6:00 PM when Chris came home.
Elisa was sitting in the living room, a book open on her lap. She hadn't read a single page in an hour.
The door opened and Chris walked in. He looked refreshed. He was wearing a new suit. He was carrying a box from La Maison du Chocolat.
"Babe," he said, putting on a sad, puppy-dog face. "I'm such an idiot."
He walked over and knelt by her chair. He placed the chocolates on the table.
"I was so stressed last night," he said, taking her hand. "I didn't mean what I said about space. I panicked."
Elisa looked at him. She really looked at him. She saw the pores in his skin, the slight redness in his eyes. He looked ordinary. Pathetic.
"It's okay," she lied. Her voice was smooth, detached. "I overreacted too."
Chris let out a breath, shoulders sagging in relief. "Thank god. I love you, Elisa. You know that, right?"
He leaned in to kiss her.
Elisa smelled it. Underneath his cologne, faint but distinct. Chanel No. 5. It wasn't her perfume. It was old-fashioned. Heavy.
She turned her cheek at the last second, letting his lips graze her jaw. "I'm still a little upset, Chris."
"I know, I know. I'll make it up to you. I promise." He stood up. "I'm going to jump in the shower. Then let's order in? Thai?"
"Thai sounds good," Elisa said.
Chris took off his jacket and threw it over the back of the sofa. He loosened his tie as he walked toward the bedroom. "Be right back."
Elisa waited. She counted to thirty. She heard the water turn on in the master bath.
She moved.
She went to the sofa and picked up his jacket. She patted the pockets. His wallet. His keys. And...
A phone. But not his iPhone.
It was a small, black Blackberry. A burner.
Her heart hammered against her ribs. She pulled it out. It was locked.
She tried 1234. Incorrect.
She tried his birth year. 1995. Incorrect.
She paused. She looked at the bathroom door. The water was still running.
She typed in 1012. Her birthday.
The screen unlocked.
Elisa felt a wave of nausea. He used her birthday to lock away his secrets. It was a twisted form of ownership.
She scrolled through the messages.
Ivy: When can I see the loft?
Chris: Thursday. I'll bring the keys.
Ivy: Did you tell the Ice Queen you were working late?
Chris: She believes anything I say.
Elisa's hand shook. She scrolled further. There was an email attachment. A PDF.
Deed of Sale. 145 Hudson Street, Unit 4B. Owner: Ivy Maxwell.
He bought her a loft. With whose money?
She kept scrolling. She found a group chat app called "Signal". The group name was GameStop.
Dash: Short squeeze is coming. Get in now.
Chris: I'm leveraging the Hamilton account. Dumping 5 million tomorrow.
User2: Is that legal?
Chris: Only if you get caught.
Insider trading. embezzlement.
This wasn't just cheating. This was prison time.
The water in the bathroom stopped.
Elisa froze. She quickly pulled out her own phone and snapped photos of the screen. The deed. The texts. The trading chat.
She heard the shower door open.
She shoved the Blackberry back into the jacket pocket, exactly how she found it. She threw herself back into the armchair, picking up her book.
Chris walked out, toweling his hair. He was wearing sweatpants and a t-shirt.
"Did you order the Pad Thai?" he asked, smiling.
Elisa looked up. She forced her mouth to curve upward. "Just about to."
She stood up and walked over to him. She wrapped her arms around his waist, resting her head on his chest. She could hear his heart beating. A steady, lying rhythm.
"I missed you," she whispered, fighting the urge to vomit.
"Missed you too, babe," Chris said, kissing the top of her head.
He had no idea he was holding a grenade.
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8.5
Our twenty-first birthday was supposed to be the night my twin and I would never forget--the night we got our witchmarks. But something goes horribly wrong, and Angelica doesn't get hers. What should've been the best night of our lives quickly turns into one of the worst.
Soon after, things start to go wrong. Our mom, who had always loved her "little moon" (me) and her "little sun" (Angelica) equally, suddenly sides with Angelica on everything. Then, my friends start to behave oddly around me. But it gets even worse. The company we started together as sisters votes to oust me? Shocked, I go to my long--term boyfriend, Orion Locklear--the boy I have loved my whole life--for comfort, only to find him and Angelica in her room...naked.
How could she do all this to me? Not only as a sister, betraying everything we once shared....but as a powerless markless? I'm the one who got the witchmark, not her! Yet I wasn't able to stop any of this from happening. Something isn't adding up.
I refuse to sit back any longer and let her continue to ruin my life. It's time to claw my way back up to the top and reclaim everything she took from me...even if it means I have to join hands with witch-kind's historical mortal enemies: the super powerful, super rich Hunter family--yup, they used to hunt witches, and only stopped when we agreed to give up Black Magic. Oh, and of course, the guy I'm assigned to work with, Miles Hunter, has to be super hot, too. Seven Hells! Can't a girl catch a break?
8.1
Iverson played the role of a rebellious, useless loser to survive in his mother's new wealthy family. He deliberately tanked his grades and hid his genius so his perfect stepbrother wouldn't feel threatened.
But when a violent gang extorted Brenda, the only woman who actually acted like a real mother to him, Iverson dropped the act. He brutally dismantled four armed thugs with a broken aluminum pole to save her life.
At the police station, he faked being a terrified victim to avoid jail. But when his biological mother arrived, she didn't even ask if he was hurt. Instead, she glared at him with pure disgust.
"How much more humiliation are you going to put me through?"
She threw a tutoring folder at his chest, praising his stepbrother's Ivy League prospects while threatening to cut off Iverson's trust fund for fighting over slum trash.
Iverson clenched his fists in silence. He had deliberately played the idiot and ruined his own reputation just to keep her safe in that toxic mansion. Yet, she looked at him like he was absolute garbage. She truly believed he was just a brainless thug holding her back.
Back in his room, Iverson locked the heavy oak door and booted up his highly encrypted laptop. The screen loaded into the world's most elite underground academic network.
"Welcome back, Rank 1."
He stared at the glowing screen with a cold, dangerous smile. He was done playing the fool.
7.8
Rosalind Rivers has only ever wanted one thing - revenge.
The Lycan Prince, Aklan Draven, murdered her brother in cold blood. Or so she's believed her whole life. Now, forced to serve under him at the Lycan Academy, she has no choice but to obey the man she swore to hate. But hating him becomes harder with every clash, every stolen glance, every heartbeat that refuses to stay loyal to her rage.
Because fate has a cruel sense of humor.
He's her fated mate.
Aklan doesn't understand why this stubborn, sharp-tongued wolf gets under his skin or why her scent feels like home. He only knows she's trouble. The kind that tests his control, drags buried memories to the surface, and makes him question everything he thought he knew about loyalty and guilt.
But when a hidden truth comes to light - that Rosalind's brother didn't die by Aklan's hand but by choice, their world begins to unravel. Old wounds reopen. Ancient forces stir. And Rosalind learns she is no ordinary wolf, but something far rarer, something worth killing for.
Between vengeance and love, duty and destiny, one wrong move could ignite a war between realms.
And the cruelest part?
She might just lose her heart to the man she was born to destroy.
7.9
"Say it, Soraya... who owns you?"
"You do, Zayne. You own every fucking piece of me."
✷✷✷✷
Soraya Vale had it all beauty, fame, and a husband the world envied-until betrayal sent her crashing down a marble staircase to her death.
But fate gave her a second chance. Reborn at twenty-one, she vowed to destroy the ones who destroyed her family and ruined her life.
Her revenge was flawless... until Zayne King-her ex-husband's dangerously powerful uncle-set her body on fire and her plans ablaze.
Now, between vengeance and desire, she must choose: burn the world... or let it burn her.
7.5
After spending five grueling years securing the Madden Pack's empire, I thought my Alpha mate and I were finally building a perfect family.
But on my birthday, I returned home to find a thick, impenetrable wall of ice in our Mate bond.
Caden had completely shut me out to throw a lavish party for my half-sister, Adalynn.
He let Adalynn pollute our penthouse with her cheap perfume and brainwash my five-year-old daughter, Elara.
"Auntie Adalynn is a million times better than Mommy!"
Elara chirped happily to a camera, while Caden watched with a doting smile.
He publicly humiliated me, commanded the servants to ignore me, and deliberately fed Elara severe allergens just to spite my maternal rules.
When my pup ended up in the pack hospital gasping for air, Caden confiscated her tablet and roared at her to stop crying for the mother who "abandoned" her.
My heart shattered into a million irreparable pieces.
I couldn't understand how the man destined to protect my soul could twist my love into cruelty and use our helpless cub as a punching bag for his ego.
But the weeping, pathetic Luna died right there.
I calmly signed the divorce papers, surrendered all my assets, and walked out into the cold night.
Opening my encrypted laptop, I reclaimed my hidden identity as the global elite hacker "Ghost" and initiated a lethal protocol.
It was time to burn his entire world to the ground.
7.1
*MATURE READERS ONLY * DARK ROMANCE *
"What shall I do now that I have seized my prey?" He questions me, voice sonorous and husky whilst he inhales sharply nose buried into the flesh of my neck savouring the scent of his female. Canines descend eager to sink, unhesitant for a bite.
"Should I devour it?"He whispers into my ear whilst the tip of his hot tongue tastes the flavour of my inflamed skin. I quiver beneath him encaged under his muscular being.
"I am starving my female and you look absolutely... succulent."He moans, tongue stroking his plump lower lip as an uncontrollable need sets him on fire from within.
**************************
HIM - Deimos was neither man nor wolf. He was a God, the Alpha of Alphas. They say he possesses no soul, for his eyes retain coldness that no heat can melt, his heart unyielding and emotionless occupying profound scars from his battles guarded by high walls. He is ruthless, instilling fear within others and striving off it. He did not understand the meaning of love nor mates until he laid eyes on his moon blessed.
HER - Destined for greatness she fought tooth and claw to survive. Her past, her arduous war. The first female Alpha to have ever been born on her pack lands. Having no place she battled for her birthright, for her reign. She did not know that her fight did e not cease that night she triumphed. She did not know that her greatest bloodshed would be with her mate. Deimos.
He would fight against his heart and she would fight with her soul.