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 6
The Crawford family was the most powerful house in all of Kingsley.
Even if Leonel only intended for her to act as a temporary wife, their marriage would still be legally binding.
That wasn't something that could simply be erased whenever convenient.
"And would you?" he asked quietly, his dark eyes fixed on her.
Navia shook her head immediately, her expression sincere and unwavering.
"Of course not."
"Then there's no problem."
Leonel withdrew his gaze and gestured toward the sofa.
"Sit. Your clothes will take a while."
The man carried an overwhelming presence-cold, commanding, impossible to ignore.
Navia still wasn't entirely comfortable being so close to him.
After glancing toward the kitchen, she said softly, "I'll make some ginger tea. You got caught in the rain too, Mr. Crawford. It'll help keep you from getting sick."
"You enjoy cooking?" he asked.
Navia nodded.
"I do."
Cooking had always been one of her hobbies.
She loved experimenting with recipes, desserts, and new dishes whenever she had time.
Leonel watched quietly as she entered the kitchen.
Soon, she had already tied on an apron and moved around with practiced ease.
Steam drifted through the air as the sweet scent of brown sugar mixed with the sharp warmth of ginger, filling the previously cold and silent villa with unexpected life.
Leonel simply watched her from afar.
Her waist looked so slender it seemed breakable.
Yet she stood perfectly straight, focused entirely on what she was doing.
Still...
The thought that she might have learned all of this for Liam made something in his eyes turn colder.
Dark.
Unreadable.
A few minutes later, Navia returned carrying two steaming mugs.
"Mr. Crawford, try some?"
Leonel looked down at her silently without speaking.
His gaze lingered long enough to make her nervous.
"Mr. Crawford?" she called again softly.
Her wrist was beginning to ache from holding the mug up so long.
Just as she was about to lower it, Leonel reached forward and took the cup from her hand.
His rough fingertips brushed against her delicate skin.
Navia instinctively flinched slightly.
Leonel noticed.
"Thank you," he said calmly as he released her wrist.
Under Navia's watchful gaze, he took a sip.
Then, unexpectedly, he raised an eyebrow.
"It's sweet," he commented.
Navia blinked.
"Did I accidentally add too much sugar?"
"No." Leonel took another drink. "I don't like the taste of ginger. I prefer sweeter things."
His Adam's apple bobbed as he finished the tea in one smooth swallow.
Apparently, he wasn't just being polite.
Navia nodded thoughtfully, quietly remembering the detail.
People who had spent years overseas often preferred sweeter flavors.
It seemed Leonel was no exception.
Not long after, Jason arrived at the villa carrying a newly released Chanel outfit from the current season.
After changing clothes, Navia followed Leonel back into the Bentley as they headed toward City Hall.
Only when the building finally came into view did Navia begin to feel genuinely nervous.
Couples walked in and out constantly, smiling, chatting, holding hands.
"Scared?" Leonel glanced at her lazily. "If you regret it, I can still take you home."
Navia shook her head immediately.
"No. I won't regret this."
Then she added firmly:
"Let's go inside."
The opportunity she needed was right in front of her.
Only by inheriting twenty percent of Harrison Group's shares would she have the power to fight back against Liam and Linda.
There was no way she would run now.
As if trying to gather courage, Navia boldly slipped her arm around Leonel's.
He didn't reject her.
Instead, he simply guided her inside.
When it came time to take their marriage license photo, even the photographer became visibly enthusiastic.
"You two need to stand closer," he instructed excitedly. "Closer! This is a wedding photo-smile a little! And miss, feel free to lean against your husband's shoulder!"
Blushing fiercely, Navia carefully rested her head against Leonel's shoulder and looked toward the camera.
It was the closest they had ever been.
Close enough for her to catch the faint scent of tobacco lingering on him beneath the crisp cedarwood fragrance she had already begun associating with Leonel.
The smell was mature.
Dangerous.
Oddly comforting.
For a moment, the entire situation felt unreal.
Like a dream.
Click.
The flash went off.
Their photo was finished.
In the picture, Navia leaned shyly against Leonel's broad shoulder while his deep-set eyes rested quietly on her.
Maybe it was just her imagination...
But she could almost see a trace of tenderness in his expression.
Today was her wedding day.
And the man standing beside her wasn't Liam-
but Leonel Crawford.
A man she had only met twice.
Fate truly had a strange sense of humor.
As they walked out of City Hall, Navia stared blankly at the marriage certificate in her hands while unconsciously holding tightly onto Leonel's hand.
It wasn't until they reached the black Bentley that she noticed the strange look coming from nearby.
Jason stared openly at their joined hands, his shock completely undisguised.
Navia snapped back to reality and hurriedly tried to pull away.
Their marriage was only an arrangement.
A formality.
In reality, they were still practically strangers.
They should probably keep some distance between them.
But before she could fully withdraw her hand, Leonel caught it again.
Firmly.
His large hand enclosed hers completely, rough calluses contrasting against her soft skin.
"Even if we entered this marriage for different reasons," he said calmly, "marriage isn't a game."
His low voice carried effortless authority.
"Since we're legally husband and wife now, it's better to get used to each other sooner rather than later."
His reasoning sounded perfectly logical.
And yet-
Leonel Crawford was still a man.
A dangerously attractive one at that.
The mature aura surrounding him was unlike anything Navia had ever experienced before.
Even standing still, he radiated a magnetic charm impossible to ignore.
And Navia, despite her upbringing, was still inexperienced when it came to men.
Her face turned crimson almost instantly.
"O-Okay..." she stammered. "I understand..."
Seeing the obvious nervousness on her face, Leonel's expression softened with faint amusement.
"Come on," he said gently. "Let's go home."
"Wait." Navia suddenly stopped him. "Mr. Crawford... I can't go back with you yet."
"???" Leonel assumed she was simply shy.
"There's no reason for newlyweds to live separately, Mrs. Crawford."
Mrs. Crawford.
The two words rolled effortlessly from his deep voice.
To him, it was merely a reminder-
just another part of married life she needed to get used to.
But to Navia, the words exploded in her mind like thunder.
Her pale ears flushed such a deep red they looked ready to burn.
At that moment, she wanted nothing more than to disappear into the ground.
***
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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."