I Dumped My Cheating Fiancé and Married His Uncle
On the night before her wedding, Navia Harrison discovers her fiancé in bed with her step-sister-and worse, the two of them are already planning how to get rid of her after the marriage.
Humiliated and consumed by hatred, Navia exposes their affair during the wedding ceremony itself, destroying both families' reputations in a single move.
Then, she meets him.
Leonel Crawford - the cold and dangerously powerful head of the Crawford family. Untouchable. Ruthless. A man no woman has ever been able to keep close.
He's also her ex-fiancé's uncle.
One impulsive proposal changes everything.
"If you need a wife... marry me instead."
"Honestly... we'd make a pretty good match."
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Chapter 1
Navia Harrison stood outside the hotel room, her fingers trembling around her phone.
An anonymous text message glowed on the screen.
[Grand Hotel. Room 1001. Password: 123456.]
[There's a surprise waiting for you.]
At first, she had assumed it was some kind of prank.
But something about it made her uneasy enough to come anyway.
Tomorrow was her wedding day.
Tonight, her fiancé had told her he was busy preparing a surprise for her.
Now, standing in front of Room 1001, a strange chill crept up her spine.
After a brief hesitation, she entered the password.
The door unlocked with a soft click.
Navia slowly pushed it open.
The moment she stepped inside, her entire body froze.
A man and woman were tangled together on the hotel bed.
The woman beneath him was glamorous and heavily made up, her scarlet nails tracing lazy circles across his chest as she pouted.
"Liam, you're marrying Navia tomorrow. Why are you here with me tonight? Haven't I suffered enough already?"
At the mention of the wedding, disgust flashed across the man's face.
"Linda, you know exactly why I'm marrying her," he said, pulling the woman closer. "It's for the Harrison Group. Once we're married and I get control of the shares, I'll deal with her."
The woman's eyes lit up with anticipation.
"And how exactly are you planning to deal with her?"
A cold smirk curled on his lips.
"How hard could it be? A honeymoon accident. A fall off a cliff. Or maybe complications during childbirth." He shrugged casually. "Women die from hemorrhaging all the time."
The woman gasped dramatically, covering her mouth.
"Liam... she's still my sister. Isn't that a little cruel?"
"Cruel?" he sneered. "She stole your place in the family and left you carrying the shame of being the illegitimate daughter all these years. She should've disappeared a long time ago. I'm just getting justice for you."
Linda threw herself into his arms, touched beyond words.
"Liam... you really care about me that much?"
"You're the one I love." His grin turned wicked as he tightened his hold on her. "Of course I do. And tonight, I plan to spoil you properly."
"Stop it..." she giggled flirtatiously.
Their laughter echoed through the suite.
Navia stood motionless by the doorway, her face drained of color.
An icy numbness spread through her body, squeezing tightly around her heart until she could barely breathe.
The man on the bed was her fiancé.
The woman in his arms was her father's mistress's daughter-her so-called stepsister.
And the two of them were discussing her murder as casually as if they were talking about tomorrow's weather.
A wave of nausea surged through her stomach.
No.
She would never let them get what they wanted.
Fighting back the urge to vomit, Navia quietly raised her phone and recorded every disgusting second.
Then, before they could notice her presence, she turned and stumbled out of the room.
Her mind was in chaos.
So shaken that she failed to notice the dark pair of eyes silently watching her retreating figure from the shadows at the end of the corridor.
...
Navia returned to the underground parking garage and drove away from the hotel.
It was late. The roads were nearly empty.
She gripped the steering wheel tightly, forcing herself to breathe, trying desperately to calm down.
But the conversation she had overheard replayed endlessly in her head.
A honeymoon accident.
A fatal fall.
Death during childbirth.
Her stomach churned violently.
She slammed on the brakes and pulled over to the side of the road, leaning forward as she dry-heaved.
Suddenly-
SCREEECH!
A piercing sound shattered the silence behind her.
Navia spun around in panic.
A black Mercedes-Maybach came speeding down the road in the distance. The car swerved violently before smashing through the roadside barrier and slamming into the rocky hillside with a deafening crash.
Her knees nearly gave out beneath her.
Someone had been in that car.
Her first instinct was to call emergency services, but when she looked at her phone, there was no signal.
Without hesitation, Navia ran toward the wreckage.
Through the cracked driver's-side window, she could make out the silhouette of a man slumped over the wheel.
"Sir!" she shouted, pounding on the glass. "Can you hear me? Sir!"
When he didn't respond, she grabbed a rock from the ground, preparing to smash the window open.
But just then, the man inside slowly stirred awake.
His gaze lifted toward her.
The moment their eyes met, a shiver ran down Navia's spine.
It felt as though she had just been locked onto by a dangerous predator.
The man was devastatingly handsome despite the blood running down from a wound on his forehead. His skin was unnaturally pale, and his dark eyes were deep and unreadable-like a whirlpool capable of swallowing anyone whole.
A dangerous man.
A mysterious one.
He reached over and unlocked the door.
Click.
Navia forced down the strange feeling twisting in her chest, tossed the rock aside, and hurriedly pulled the door open.
"Are you okay?" she asked anxiously. "If you can still move, I'll take you to the hospital right now."
The man exhaled heavily, one hand pressed against his bleeding forehead. His voice was low and rough.
"Where's the ambulance?"
"There's no signal out here," Navia replied.
He closed his eyes briefly and tried to unbuckle his seatbelt, but his hand trembled too badly to manage it.
"Don't move," Navia said quickly. "I'll help you."
The cramped interior of the car carried the faint scent of blood, mixed with the crisp smell of cedarwood and warm sandalwood from the man beside her-a mature, intoxicating scent.
Navia bit her lip nervously.
Her heart pounded wildly as she leaned closer to unfasten the seatbelt, her cheeks and ears burning bright red.
The man lowered his gaze.
His long lashes cast shadows over his eyes as he quietly studied the vulnerable curve of her neck, breathing in the soft sweetness lingering around her.
For a moment, he lifted his hand as though he wanted to touch her face.
But in the end, he restrained himself and lowered it again.
Completely unaware of his gaze, Navia finally managed to free the seatbelt.
"Careful," she said, holding out her hand. "I'll help you out."
He gave a quiet acknowledgment.
His large hand-warm and rough with faint calluses-brushed against her fingertips as he took it.
Navia rarely had any physical contact with men.
The simple touch sent a strange tingling sensation racing through her body, like a mild electric current.
Then suddenly, his fingers tightened around hers.
He leaned part of his weight against her, his warm breath brushing against her ear as he murmured in a deep voice:
"Thank you."
Instinctively, Navia tried to pull away.
But the moment she pushed him back, she remembered-
He was injured.
The man sucked in a sharp breath, his body swaying weakly as though he might collapse at any second.
Navia immediately wrapped her arms around him again.
"Careful!"
She mentally cursed herself.
The man had just survived a car accident, and she was still worrying about keeping her distance because he was a man?
Saving him mattered more.
After struggling for several minutes, Navia finally helped him into her car and rushed him to the hospital.
Fortunately, his injuries turned out to be minor.
Not long after, the police arrived to investigate the accident. From their conversation, Navia learned that one of the Maybach's tires had suddenly blown out, causing the crash. The vehicle had already been sent for inspection and repairs.
By the time everything was settled, it was already past midnight.
Navia glanced at the time.
"Well, since you're okay now... I should get going."
The man handed her a business card.
"This is my contact information," he said. "You saved my life tonight. If you ever need anything, come find me."
Navia accepted the card casually and glanced down at it.
Then her eyes widened in shock.
She looked up at him abruptly.
"You're Leonel Crawford?!"
Leonel Crawford-the youngest son of the powerful Crawford family. After spending years overseas, he had returned six months ago and taken control of the Crawford Corporation almost overnight, becoming one of the most powerful men in the country.
And there was another connection.
He was also Liam Crawford's uncle.
"I am," the man replied calmly.
Because Leonel had spent most of his life abroad-and because his branch of the family had never been close to Liam's side of the family-this was Navia's first time meeting him.
Before she could stop herself, the question slipped out.
"Do... do you know who I am?"
***
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7.6
Jocelyn Yang lived in the grand Turner Mansion, not as a guest, but as a prisoner. Ever since her father's death, the ruthless billionaire Elam Turner forced her to atone for sins her father never committed.
On her nineteenth birthday, a male classmate secretly sent her a diamond necklace. Elam, who had flown back from London overnight, flew into a psychotic, jealous rage at the sight of another man's gift.
He mercilessly crushed the delicate necklace into the marble floor with his custom leather shoe.
"Did you forget what you are?" Elam hissed, dragging her into a pitch-black storage room. "You take gifts from other men behind my back?"
He pinned her to the dusty floorboards and violently assaulted her. The next morning, a wire transfer of $500,000 hit her bank account. He had humiliated her, broken her spirit, and was now casually trying to buy her silence. Later, when a broken bike left her walking miles through a freezing rainstorm, he just shoved scalding tea into her bleeding hands.
"Look at you," he sneered. "You look like a stray dog ruining my floors."
Jocelyn curled up in the cold, her lips bleeding and her heart shattered. She couldn't understand his terrifying obsession. If he hated her so much, why did he refuse to let her go? Why did he look at her with such manic hunger while systematically destroying her life?
Staring at the massive sum of hush money on her phone, a desperate spark of vengeance flared in her chest. Jocelyn wired every single cent back to Elam's account. She picked up her charcoal pencil, vowing to win the upcoming art competition and buy her escape from this monster forever.
9.1
He postponed putting my name on the deed 18 times.
Each time, his mentee Ciera had an “emergency.” Each time, he ran to her.
I watched him give her his prized Montblanc pen—the one he wouldn’t even let me borrow. I saw her post their late nights on Instagram. I ate anniversary dinners alone while he “mentored” her.
Then he bought me a necklace—identical to the one she just flaunted online.
That was when I stopped feeling anything.
I didn’t cry. I didn’t fight. I simply packed two suitcases, resigned from our firm, and booked a one-way ticket to London.
He thinks I’m coming back in a week.
He has no idea I’m gone for good.
Nineteen broken promises. One silent goodbye. And a new life waiting across the ocean.
8.7
For seven years, I was Alpha Zane’s Chosen Mate, suppressing my warrior instincts to be the docile, supportive partner he demanded.
On our seventh anniversary, while I waited by a candlelit table, I accidentally overheard his mind-link with another woman.
"Seven years is a habit, my dear, not love. She's docile, she'll understand."
He told Seraphina, his new political ally, laughing as he dismissed my entire existence.
I didn't scream or cry. I scraped the anniversary cake into the trash, drafted a formal rejection letter, and walked out of the packhouse.
But Zane didn't even notice my departure. He was so consumed by his new lover that my rejection letter was treated as garbage and tossed into the incinerator.
He paraded Seraphina around the pack, even handing my hard-earned strategic command over to her—a woman who knew absolutely nothing about war.
When my loyal subordinates protested, he violently suppressed them, declaring my absence a "childish tantrum" and framing me as the bitter obstacle to his destined romance.
He honestly thought I was just hiding in my room, waiting to beg for his charity and accept a humiliating demotion.
He had no idea that I had already crossed the border into enemy territory.
Tonight, I am attending his grand celebration.
Not as the heartbroken mate he discarded, but as the newly appointed Gamma of his deadliest rival, the Sterling Pack.
9.7
Eighteen months ago, the man I loved shattered my heart, claiming everything between us was a mistake. Now, he's back, a ghost of his former self, a rookie tryout in my pro esports team. And I will make him regret crawling back.
Clifton, captain of a legendary esports team, was secretly battling a severe wrist injury that threatened his career, every match a fight against his own body. He pushed through the pain, ignoring doctors' warnings, desperate to maintain his god-like status.
His world was already on the edge, but nothing prepared him for seeing Justice Terry again in the team basement. Justice, pale and trembling, his eyes wide with naked terror, was now a rookie tryout.
Clifton had spent a year and a half trying to forget that rainy Chicago alley, the raw revulsion in Justice's eyes, the whispered "it wasn't real" that had left him heartbroken. Justice had vanished, and Clifton had erased every trace. Now, the boy who once looked at him like he was the sun was back, flinching at his touch, displaying a deep, primal fear. Amidst sponsor pressure and whispers of being "washed," Clifton saw Justice's return as a chance for vengeance. He publicly humiliated Justice on a live stream, forcing him into a suicide mission, then coldly benched him.
Yet, the satisfaction never came. Instead, a hollow emptiness and a torrent of questions: What had truly happened in the past? Why was Justice here, and what trauma had carved such fear into his bones?
Clifton, unwilling to be fooled again, swore to uncover every secret and every lie. He would force Justice to explain why he had returned, even if it meant tearing down everything they both had left.
8.1
I lived my entire life in a beautiful, naive bubble, completely trusting my husband and my best friend.
That was until they tied me to a chair, slit my vocal cords, and set my family's estate on fire.
As the flames crept closer, my husband Demarco calmly crushed my diamond wedding ring under his leather heel.
My best friend Cristin walked in, leaning against his shoulder and pouring her champagne onto the floorboards to fuel the fire.
"Your grandfather didn't just have a stroke. The medication swap was incredibly easy to arrange."
Looking down at my bleeding body, they casually confessed to murdering the only person who had ever truly protected me, all to swallow the Bridges empire.
I couldn't even scream. I could only suffocate in the thick black smoke as they turned their backs and locked the heavy oak door behind them.
Why was I so blind? How could the two people I loved most treat me like disposable garbage?
In my final moments of agonizing pain and pure, concentrated fury, I pulled out the detonator my grandfather had secretly left me.
I pressed the button, blowing the estate and all of us to hell.
But the burning stopped.
When I opened my eyes, I was staring up at a pristine crystal chandelier.
I was fifteen years old again, lying in my childhood bedroom, right before my treacherous uncle and those parasites started tearing my family apart.
And I didn't come back empty-handed.
This time, I am not the naive heiress.
8.7
Jolie transmigrated into a high-tech universe ruled by beast-shifting Primals, only to wake up in the body of a "defective" female. With a Genetic Compatibility Index of zero, she was publicly discarded by her mandated military partner.
Before she could even adapt, her stepmother drugged her with an illegal aphrodisiac and locked her in a pitch-black suite with that same ex-fiancé—now a feral, maddened beast. The family wanted her torn apart to permanently erase their embarrassment.
But instead of dying, Jolie awakened a rare plant-manipulation power. She bound the raging General, drained his energy, robbed him blind, and fled to a remote farming planet. Just as she thought she was free, the Commonwealth system flashed a new mandate. They assigned her a new husband: Keanu Robertson, a psychotic assassin who had murdered his last three wives.
The system wasn't giving her a partner; it was handing her a death warrant. Keanu despised females, especially a "useless" zero-GCI burden. He tracked her forged alias across the galaxy, descending upon her barren farm in the dead of night with pure murderous intent. How could a discarded, defective girl survive the most feared apex predator in the Shadow Sector?
But as the legendary assassin stepped onto her property to finish the job, a mutated, neurotoxic vine whipped out and completely paralyzed him. Watching the massive killer crash face-first into the dirt, Jolie lowered her rifle and smiled.
"Welcome home, husband."