Forbidden affair with my fiance's Billionaire uncle

~~Elena~~

Just like when he had entered the bar, everything around him seemed to bend to his presence.

“Oh my God…” My mouth fell open in awe as I struggled to understand why he was here.

Every memory of last night came flooding back, the way he moved, the way he looked at me, the way he made me feel, and I couldn’t stop the flush creeping across my skin.

“Hello, Uncle,” my so-called fiancé said, dismissing his hands from his love and running to him like a puppy who had just seen its master.

“Uncle…” I mustered out, almost losing my balance. What the heck have I done? I slept with my fiancé’s uncle!

He moved closer, each step deliberate, unhurried, as though the entire room belonged to him. My chest tightened. Feeling a wave of shame and guilt, I slowly lowered my head.

“Why do I feel like I’ve seen this face before?” he murmured, his voice low yet powerful, carrying across the silence like a challenge. It wasn’t a question—it was a statement, heavy with authority, as though he already knew the answer and was daring me to deny it.

“This is your nephew’s wife; her name is Elena Ramos. These are her family, her father, mother, and elder sister,” the old man said, introducing us.

The man nodded and stretched his hand toward me. “Nice to meet you, my niece-in-law.”

I trembled as I reached out. He squeezed my hand, and that alone sent heat rushing under my thighs. My breath hitched, my heart racing. I quickly pulled my hand back.

The old man continued, “This is my only son, Alejandro Rodriguez, the heir of the Rodriguez family. He decides all the affairs of the family.”

Elena! Elena!! Elena!!! What have you done? I’ve really messed with the wrong person, I thought, panic curling in my stomach. I forced myself to stand tall, trying to piece together what little composure I had left. But before I could steady myself, my cousin shoved past me roughly, almost knocking me to the floor, as she stretched out her hand.

“Hi, I’m Isabella Ramos, an Oxford University graduate," she said, blushing.

He gave her a cold look, staring at her hand, then casually placed his own in his pocket. The mother and son let out a soft laugh, as if they had expected his rejection. I wanted to laugh too but held back. Right now, I was in a bigger mess than she was. She gradually stepped back, her eyes narrowing with a mix of embarrassment and anger.

“Welcome to the family,” he said to me, his voice low and deliberate, as he left with his assistant, and his family followed suit, their smiles painted on as they extended greetings to the other families.

“So… you said I was your daughter?” I asked my uncle.

He quickly gave me a cold gaze, without explanation. I knew what that meant. Grandma’s life… my only weakness.

Come with me. There are still scores between us that need settling. He said

I stared at my cousin, sobbing uncontrollably, her mother’s hands gently brushing her hair back as she whispered for her to calm down before her makeup would be ruined.

The sight was almost too funny; I couldn’t resist mimicking what she said earlier.

"I am Isabella Ramos, an Oxford graduate," I said.

"Mum, look at this bitch!" She shouted out loud, her voice carrying across the room and making the crowd turn to stare. Her mother rushed to calm her, but all eyes were already on them.

I didn’t even spare a second. I quickly fell in step behind my uncle, moving through the whispers and stares with ease.

***********

“Elena, where were you last night? You were supposed to spend time with your fiancé and cultivate feelings,” my uncle’s voice cut sharply through the air.

My problem is getting so complicated; I am caught in the cruel dilemma pressing down on me from all sides—torn between my fragile grandma lying in a hospital bed and this suffocating contract marriage.

Marrying a playboy wasn’t even the real problem anymore. Deep inside, I knew it—I had already crossed paths with the wrong man.

“You’ll be moving in with them today. Your belongings will be sent tomorrow morning," my uncle said flatly.

My fists clenched at my sides, heat rising in my chest. “But why, Uncle? What about Grandma? She needs me, I...I need to be with her!” My voice shook, not from weakness but from barely restrained anger.

His eyes narrowed, his tone sharp as a blade. “This project will last three years. You will stay with them. About your grandmother, you can visit her once a week. But if you mess up this contract…” He leaned in, his words dripping with venom. “Then prepare yourself to meet her corpse.”

My breath hitched, fury burning hotter than my fear. How dare he use Grandma’s life like a bargaining chip?

*******

Later that night, we arrived at the Rodriguez mansion. The place towered above me, grand and intimidating, its walls whispering secrets of power and wealth I wasn’t sure I wanted to be part of.

A maid welcomed me politely and led me through the long, echoing hallways until we reached a spacious bedroom. The air smelled faintly of roses and polished wood. Everything inside was meticulously arranged, the wardrobe already filled with elegant clothes in my size, shelves lined with expensive handbags, glistening jewelry, and neatly displayed designer heels.

“The elder arranged all this for you,” the young maid said softly, her eyes dropping with practiced humility. “If you need anything, Ma, please let me know.”

I forced a nod, though my chest tightened. This room was beautiful, yet it felt like a golden cage.

After my bath, I slipped into the silk nightwear laid out for me.

On my way out of the room, I caught sight of a maid hurrying down the stairs.

“What about Carlos?” I asked quietly, almost hesitant.

She paused, lowering her gaze. “He doesn’t usually come home, ma’am.”

I gave a small nod, more to myself than to her, and walked toward the balcony.

The night air was cool, brushing against my face as I stepped outside. The balcony was beautifully crafted, perfectly arranged with elegant furniture and glowing lanterns—but my eyes wandered past it.

I stared at the dazzling city lights sprawled out below, then lifted my gaze to the endless sky. My chest tightened as a whisper escaped my lips.

“Mom… Dad… I need your help.”

I heard the soft click of a lighter. Immediately my gaze shifted to the shadowed corner of the balcony, where a tall figure leaned casually, the tiny flame illuminating, and smoke curled lazily from the cigarette, wrapping around him like a veil and softening the sharp angles of his jaw and the intensity of his eyes.

He took a slow step closer, and I could feel the warmth radiating from him even from a distance.

Then I saw him—the man from last night, standing there like a shadow carved from moonlight. My chest tightened, and my fingers curled instinctively, though I tried to keep my movements calm.

With a voice barely more than a whisper, trembling with a mix of longing and disbelief, escape came through my mouth.

“Alejandro…”