I Dumped My Cheating Husband and Married His Uncle

The elevator doors chimed and parted. I stepped out into the biting night air of the roof terrace. The wind instantly cut through my thin silk dress, raising severe goosebumps along my arms. I gripped my phone so hard the metal edges dug into my palm. The screen had finally gone dark, but the high-definition image of Nyla and Julian burned behind my eyelids.

"You didn't stay in the bathroom."

I jumped, spinning around.

Silas Vance sat at a wrought-iron patio table in the darkest corner of the terrace. He didn't look like a man crashing an anniversary dinner. He wore a tailored charcoal suit that blended completely into the shadows.

"How did you get up here so fast?" I asked.

"Private stairwell," he replied. "Sit down, Harper."

I stayed standing. "I should go back inside. Julian is waiting to pay the check."

"Julian is currently texting his assistant, assuring her he'll be at her apartment by midnight."

My stomach dropped. "You know."

"I know everything my nephew does. It's my job to monitor the family investments." He tapped a thick manila folder resting on the glass tabletop. "And right now, he is a very poor investment."

"He told me it was a minor crisis at work."

"The only crisis Julian manages is his zipper." Silas didn't flinch. "He's been sleeping with Nyla for six months."

I wrapped my arms around my waist to stop the shivering. "Six months."

"Since the Tokyo merger."

"He missed our anniversary for that trip."

"He didn't go to Tokyo, Harper. He went to a private resort in Kyoto. With her."

My throat closed entirely. The diamond necklace in my clutch suddenly felt like a ticking bomb. He hadn't just forgotten; he had built an entire alternate life while I sat at home playing the loyal wife.

"Why are you telling me this?" I asked.

"Because I have a solution."

Silas picked up the folder. He flicked his wrist, sending two thick stacks of paper sliding across the glass. They stopped exactly in front of the empty chair opposite him.

"Read them," he commanded.

I stepped forward and looked down. The top document bore the official seal of the state.

*Petition for Dissolution of Marriage.*

Next to it sat a single, crisp sheet.

*Application for Marriage License.*

My lungs forgot how to pull in air. I stared at the blank line meant for the bride.

"What is this, Silas?"

"An exit strategy."

"For who? Me?"

"For both of us," he said. "Sit."

I sank into the cold metal chair. My thigh muscles tightened, locking up from the freezing wind and a sudden, violent surge of adrenaline. The sheer audacity of the papers mocked me.

"You want me to divorce Julian," I said, my voice dropping to a whisper.

"I want you to ruin him."

"And marry you."

"A necessary transaction."

I looked up from the documents, meeting his dark, unreadable gaze. "Why me?" I demanded. "You have your pick of heiresses. You don't need a discarded wife."

"I need the neuro-receptor patent," Silas answered bluntly. "The one you developed before you married that idiot."

I blinked, thrown off balance. "Julian's company owns the licensing rights to that. He controls the distribution."

"Julian controls nothing. He inherited a title and a corner office. You built the only profitable asset his division possesses."

"He said my work was a joint marital asset."

"He lied."

"You read my prenuptial agreement?"

"I drafted it," Silas said, resting his elbows on the table. "I always build a back door."

I let out a harsh, unexpected laugh. It sounded brittle in the open air. Tears should have been streaming down my face, but my eyes felt bone-dry.

"So this is a hostile takeover."

"This is an alliance," he corrected. "You bring the patent as your dowry. I integrate it into Vance Global."

"You want me to marry you for a patent."

"I want to secure a billion-dollar asset. Marriage is the cleanest legal route to transfer the rights without triggering a board review."

"And what do I get in return?"

"Revenge."

He didn't yell. His tone stayed flat, yet the word hung heavily between us.

"I will dismantle Julian's company piece by piece," Silas continued. "I will freeze his assets. I will strip his board. By the time I finish, he'll be begging for a middle-management job in a mailroom."

"Julian will fight you."

"With what money? The moment you file for divorce, I cut his credit lines. He won't even be able to afford a decent lawyer."

My heart hammered against my ribs. The image of Nyla smiling with Julian's ring flashed in my mind again. A crazy, venomous desire for vengeance flooded my veins, warming me from the inside out.

"He's your nephew," I pointed out. "Your brother's son."

"He's a liability. He's bleeding company funds to buy platinum jewelry for his mistresses. I don't tolerate waste."

Silas stood up. He moved around the table, his tall frame blocking the ambient light from the city skyline. He leaned down. A heavy shadow completely enveloped me. The rich scent of Cuban cigars mixed with a sharp bite of aged liquor filled my senses. The aroma was intoxicating, aggressive, suffocating.

I froze, tipping my chin up to maintain eye contact.

"You're shaking," he observed.

"It's cold."

"It's fear."

"I'm not afraid of you."

"You should be."

He reached out and grabbed my left hand. His grip was firm. Calluses scraped against my soft skin. He didn't look at my face; his eyes locked onto my hand.

"A three-year sentence," Silas murmured, inspecting my fingers. "Served for a man who doesn't respect you."

Silas shifted his grip. His rough thumb found the platinum wedding band on my ring finger. He pressed down. Hard. The metal dug painfully into my bone.

"Take it off," Silas ordered, his voice dropping an octave.

"It's stuck," I lied, my voice shaking slightly.

"Nothing is stuck forever."

He applied more pressure. The pain flared, sharp and grounding. It forced the image of Julian out of my head and replaced it entirely with the towering man standing over me.

"Sign the papers, Harper," he murmured, his face inches from mine. "Let me give you the power to crush him."

He released my hand and stepped back. The sudden absence of his heat left me shivering again.

I stared at the gold fountain pen resting beside the marriage application. Julian was downstairs, paying the bill, completely unaware that his empire was currently sitting on a patio table. He thought he had me trapped with diamonds and lies.

My fingers uncurled. I reached across the glass. The metal barrel of the pen felt heavy. Cold.

"If I do this," I said, keeping my eyes on the paper. "I want Nyla fired."

"Done."

"I want her blacklisted from every corporate firm in the state."

"She won't get a job pouring coffee," Silas promised.

I popped the cap off the pen. The ink was black. The line was waiting. I pressed the nib heavily onto the bride's signature line.