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 4
Instinctively, Navia wrapped her arms around his neck, her face burning bright red.
Leonel carried her to the car and gently set her down inside.
The interior of the black Bentley was spotless and immaculate, but the moment Navia sat down, rainwater and mud stained a large section of the leather seats.
Guilt immediately flooded her chest.
"I'm sorry," she said awkwardly. "I got your car dirty. I'll pay for the cleaning."
"Is that all you plan on paying for?" the man asked calmly.
Navia blinked in confusion.
"What?"
"The clothes," Leonel replied. "Are you compensating me for those too?"
As he spoke, he removed his overcoat and tossed it onto her lap.
"You can wear it."
Only then did Navia realize what he meant.
Her soaked wedding dress was dripping everywhere, and the coat he had wrapped around her earlier was already ruined.
If she stayed in wet clothes much longer, she would definitely get sick.
But...
Change here?
Inside the car?
Navia hesitated immediately.
The driver, however, seemed experienced enough to raise the privacy divider without being asked.
Even so, Leonel was still sitting beside her.
Too close.
Even though he wasn't looking at her directly, his presence alone felt impossible to ignore.
Powerful. Dangerous. Overwhelming.
Leonel tapped a finger lightly against the armrest.
"You can keep hesitating," he said lazily. "Or you can wait for your family to catch up and drag you back."
That instantly killed Navia's hesitation.
He had already helped her this much. It would be ridiculous to suspect him now.
"...Sorry," she mumbled softly.
Sneaking a quick glance at him, Navia turned her back and carefully began removing her wedding dress.
A few moments later, the soft rustling sounds suddenly stopped.
Then Leonel heard her awkward voice.
"My zipper's stuck..." she said quietly. "Can you help me?"
Only then did he glance toward her.
She wore a strapless wedding gown, exposing smooth pale shoulders that glowed softly beneath the dim car lights.
Her waist was so slender it looked as though it could fit perfectly beneath one hand.
Because the zipper refused to move, she had become increasingly flustered. When she looked back at him nervously, even the tips of her ears were red.
Embarrassed.
Anxious.
Leonel lowered his gaze and reached out.
His fingertips brushed lightly against the smooth skin of her back before sliding the zipper down effortlessly.
"There," he said calmly.
Only then did Navia finally slip out of the wedding dress and wrap herself tightly in Leonel's oversized coat.
The fabric still carried his warmth, along with the crisp scent of cedarwood.
Cold and commanding.
Yet strangely comforting.
Her ruined wedding dress and broken heels were abandoned in the corner of the car.
Navia curled herself into a small ball against the seat, her bare feet tucked beneath her, even her toes tense with embarrassment.
The car moved steadily through the rain.
Now that she had escaped the chaos of the wedding, exhaustion crashed over her all at once.
Her eyelids slowly began to droop.
Just as she was about to fall asleep, a low voice sounded beside her.
"Navia Harrison."
The man had leaned closer without her noticing.
His warm breath brushed against her chilled skin.
Startled, Navia jumped like a frightened rabbit and turned toward him with wide eyes.
"Don't sleep," Leonel said simply as he leaned back again. "You'll catch a cold."
"...Got it."
Navia pinched her own thigh beneath the coat, forcing herself to stay awake.
Right now, she absolutely could not afford to collapse.
Just then, a phone began vibrating inside the coat pocket.
Navia pulled it out instinctively.
Only after seeing the unfamiliar name on the screen did she realize it belonged to Leonel.
Richard Crawford.
Navia's eyes widened slightly.
The old chairman of the Crawford family?
Leonel took the phone from her hand. The moment he saw the caller ID, his brows furrowed faintly before he answered.
"What is it?"
"What, I can't call my own son now?" an elderly voice barked through the speaker.
The old man's booming tone echoed clearly through the quiet car.
Leonel's voice remained cold and detached.
"If there's nothing important, I'm hanging up."
"Hold on," Richard snapped. "I heard you attended Liam's wedding today. How was it?"
The moment Navia heard that, she instinctively glanced toward Leonel awkwardly.
Unfortunately, her eyes met his immediately.
For a split second, she thought she saw amusement flicker in his gaze.
"It was interesting," Leonel replied calmly. "The most entertaining wedding I've ever attended."
Navia nearly choked.
Was he mocking her on purpose?!
"I'm serious," the old man continued. "You usually hate attending family events. Don't tell me seeing everyone else getting married made you start having ideas too? When are you bringing someone home for dinner?"
The atmosphere inside the car instantly cooled.
Leonel clearly had no interest in continuing the conversation.
"If that's all," he said flatly, "then we're done here."
His complete lack of patience only infuriated the old man further.
"You're already twenty-eight," Richard snapped angrily. "Are you still hung up on that woman after all these years?"
"Leonel Crawford, let me make this clear. I don't care if you're running the family now. If you refuse to settle down and handle your responsibilities, the board can replace you at any time. That's the family's decision."
The call ended abruptly.
The silence afterward felt suffocating.
Navia said nothing.
She hadn't met Leonel many times, but she had heard rumors.
Years ago, there had supposedly been a woman he loved deeply.
A woman he had never forgotten.
Now, despite being twenty-eight and at the height of his power, he remained completely unattached and notoriously distant from women.
No wonder Richard Crawford was panicking.
Suddenly, a bold thought surfaced in Navia's mind.
"Mr. Crawford."
Her soft voice broke the silence.
"Mhm?" Leonel responded quietly.
Navia clutched his coat tightly around herself.
Before she could lose her courage, the words blurted out.
"How about..." She swallowed hard. "You marry me instead?"
Silence filled the car.
Then-
SCREECH!
The car suddenly swerved sharply as the driver slammed on the brakes.
Navia, who had been curled in the corner, was thrown forward by the momentum straight toward Leonel.
Meanwhile, Leonel remained perfectly steady.
He wrapped one arm around her waist effortlessly, pulling her securely against his chest before she could fall.
His brows furrowed as he looked toward the front seat.
"Jason," he said coldly, "do you even know how to drive?"
Jason coughed awkwardly.
"Sorry, sir. I almost missed the turn."
At the same time, he glanced into the rearview mirror toward Navia.
After all-
What she had just said was absolutely shocking.
Navia hurriedly pulled herself out of Leonel's arms, still shaken. Her heartbeat was completely out of control.
"Where do you live?" Leonel asked calmly. "I'll take you home."
Navia gathered her courage again.
"You really won't consider it?"
"I'm not interested in jokes," Leonel replied coolly.
"I'm not joking," Navia said immediately. "I'm serious."
Her eyes remained fixed on him.
"You're single. I'm single."
"You need a wife to stop your family from pressuring you into marriage."
"And I need a husband if I want control of the Harrison Group shares."
She took a breath.
"So why don't we help each other?" A faint smile appeared on her lips. "Honestly... we'd make a pretty good match."
***
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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."