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Jilted By Nephew, Claimed By King Novel Cover

Jilted By Nephew, Claimed By King

I was kneeling on the cold concrete of an abandoned warehouse, staring at a ticking timer while a masked man held a knife to my throat. My fiancé's nephew, Preston, finally burst through the door, but he wasn't alone. He was clutching my stepsister, Felicia, both of them looking frantic. The kidnapper gave Preston a brutal choice: the bomb was rigged to the door, and he could only take one woman with him. The other would stay behind to burn. Without a single second of hesitation, Preston grabbed Felicia's hand and turned his back on me. "I'm sorry, Annelise," he said, his voice flat and devoid of any real regret. He slammed the heavy iron door shut, leaving me to scream in the darkness as the flames began to roar. He didn't just leave me to die; he did it to protect his inheritance, treating me like a piece of trash that was finally being cleared from his path. Later, in the hospital, he didn't even offer an apology. Instead, he raised his hand to strike me, threatening to finish what the fire started if I dared to speak a word about his cowardice. His stepsister laughed, trying to pour scalding coffee on my face while calling me a pathetic loser who should have stayed in the warehouse. I sat there, cowering and shaking like a broken girl, letting them believe they had won. I watched their cruelty with wide, watery eyes, wondering how they could be so blind to the monster they were provoking. What Preston didn't know was that the entire kidnapping was a performance I had choreographed myself, and every second of his betrayal was recorded in 4K. Now, I've successfully moved into the manor of the real king-his uncle, Francesco Lancaster. He thinks he's rescued a wounded bird, but he's actually invited a world-class predator into his home. The game is no longer about survival; it's about total destruction.
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Chapter 7

An hour later, the room was quiet. Francesco sat at the small table, signing documents. He had just frozen Preston's trust fund. It was petty, but satisfying.

He shifted in his chair, a grimace crossing his face. The adrenaline from the confrontation had faded, leaving the burn on his back throbbing with renewed intensity.

"Your back hurts," Annelise said.

He looked up. She was watching him.

"It's fine," he said.

"It's not fine. You're guarding your left side. The dressing needs to be changed."

"I'll call a nurse."

"No." Annelise sat up. "You don't trust the staff here. I saw how you looked at them. Let me do it."

Francesco hesitated. She was right. He didn't like strangers touching him, especially when he was injured. It was a vulnerability.

"I know first aid," she added quickly. "I helped... I helped at the animal shelter. With the dogs."

Francesco sighed. He stood up and unbuttoned his shirt, letting it fall to his waist. He sat on the edge of her bed, presenting his back to her.

Annelise opened the first aid kit. She peeled back the bandages. The skin was angry, red and blistered. It was a nasty burn.

"This is going to sting," she murmured.

She applied the cooling gel. Her fingers were gentle, incredibly precise. She didn't hesitate. She didn't shake.

The door opened.

A nurse walked in. Her name tag said 'Ashley'. She had blonde hair, too much eyeliner, and a uniform that was a size too small.

"Mr. Lancaster," Ashley purred. "I'm here to check your vitals."

Her eyes immediately went to Francesco's bare torso. She licked her lips. In her hand, she held a tray with a thermometer and a cotton swab.

Annelise watched her. She saw the way Ashley's eyes darted to the bloody bandage on the table. She saw the way she positioned the swab, not for a throat culture, but as if she intended to swipe a sample of blood.

Corporate espionage. Someone wanted Francesco's DNA. Maybe to check for genetic markers, maybe to prove he was unfit to lead, maybe to clone him. It didn't matter.

Ashley reached out, leaning over Francesco, her chest practically brushing his shoulder. "Let me just clean that up for you..." She reached for the bloody bandage with the swab.

Clatter.

Annelise's hand swept across the bedside table. The metal tray of instruments crashed to the floor.

"Oops," Annelise said. "My hand slipped."

Ashley jumped, glaring at her. "Watch it!"

The swab had fallen on the floor. Ashley bent down to retrieve it.

Annelise swung her legs over the side of the bed. Her foot came down hard, directly on the tip of the cotton swab, grinding it into the linoleum.

"Oh no," Annelise said, her voice dripping with false innocence. "I'm so clumsy today."

Ashley stood up, her face red. "You did that on purpose!"

"Silas!" Annelise called out.

The bodyguard opened the door.

"This nurse is making me uncomfortable," Annelise said, pointing a trembling finger. "She's... she's staring at Francesco. I don't like it."

Francesco turned around. He looked at the crushed swab on the floor. He looked at Ashley's panicked expression. Then he looked at Annelise, who was doing a very convincing impression of a jealous girlfriend.

"Get her out," Francesco said to Silas. "And have security vet her personnel file again."

Ashley was escorted out, protesting loudly.

Francesco turned back to Annelise. A small smirk played on his lips.

"Jealous?" he asked.

Annelise looked down, twisting her fingers. "She was looking at you like you were a steak. It was gross."

Francesco chuckled. It was a rusty sound, like he hadn't used it in years.

"Continue," he said, turning his back to her again.

Annelise resumed applying the ointment. Her touch was firm. As her fingers traced the muscles of his spine, the air in the room grew heavy. It wasn't just medical anymore. It was intimate.

Francesco closed his eyes. For a second, he forgot she was a liability. He forgot the merger. He just felt her hands on him, and it felt... right.

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