MARRIED TO MY EX'S RUTHLESS BILLIONAIRE UNCLE
Nica caught her boyfriend, Chris, and her best friend, Ella, in a shocking betrayal. Chris was kissing Ella while caressing her close, and Ella only smirked at Nica as if she had won. Nica got pissed off and swore she would not let their betrayal go unpunished. What happens next? Read the story and find out for yourself.
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Chapter 6
They both arrived at his house, but to Nica, it looked like paradise on earth. She could hardly believe that anyone could live in such a magnificent place.
The moment they arrived, guards lined up to welcome them, while maids stood neatly at the entrance of the mansion.
After greeting both Jordan and his wife, one of the guards drove the car away to park it. Some of the maids carried Nica's bags inside, while others attended to her. Each person had an assigned duty.
Jordan pampered her like a queen and made sure she lacked nothing. He changed her wardrobe, handed her one of his black cards, and said, "If you need anything, just call me."
Nica nodded.
Jordan suddenly leaned closer to her. She closed her eyes, expecting a kiss, but instead he whispered softly, "What are you thinking about?"
Embarrassed, she pushed him away.
But Jordan quickly wrapped an arm around her waist and said, "You are mine now... tomorrow and forever."
Nica felt confused. This was only supposed to be a contract marriage, yet butterflies stirred in her stomach.
She stepped back and quickly said she needed to shower.
Jordan smirked. "Do you want me to bath you?"
Nica's cheeks turned bright red.
"Jordan, you are always teasing me."
He pulled her closer again. "What if I am serious?"
She ran away shyly, while Jordan watched her with a smile.
"She is so adorable," he murmured.
As she hurried upstairs, Nica accidentally entered Jordan's room, thinking it was hers. She stepped into the bathroom and took a shower.
When she was done, she walked out naked, unaware that Jordan was already in the room.
She screamed in shock, while Jordan immediately turned away.
That was when she realized she had forgotten to wrap her towel properly. Her face burned with embarrassment.
Jordan politely excused himself and allowed her to dress.
A few moments later, she stepped out looking stunning in a mini skirt, a simple top, her hair tied into a ponytail, and her signature nerd glasses resting on her nose.
Jordan looked at her for a moment before apologizing.
"I did not know you were in my room."
Nica frowned. "Your room... or my room?"
Jordan smiled and pointed to the door directly opposite his.
"That is your room."
Nica apologized for entering the wrong one, but Jordan shook his head.
"It is not a problem. Whatever is mine is also yours."
Nica raised her head, blushing deeply.
Jordan moved closer.
"You are really beautiful when you let your hair down," he said, gently removing the band from her hair.
Her hair fell softly around her shoulders.
"And even more beautiful without these glasses."
He carefully removed them and leaned closer.
Nica's heart pounded so loudly it felt as though Jordan could hear it.
"Are you okay?" he asked softly.
She could only stare at him helplessly.
Just then, a maid interrupted them.
"Mr. Jordan, dinner is ready."
Nica quickly rushed out of the room, flustered and embarrassed.
As she walked away, she whispered to herself, "Nica, calm down. You are only his contract wife."
Meanwhile, Jordan stood there smiling to himself.
Why is she so adorable? I keep falling for her more than I should.
Before dinner, Jordan gathered all the maids and guards and gave strict instructions.
"Anyone who breaks my rules will be fired immediately. I do not give second chances."
He then pointed to each person.
"Maria, you are in charge of my wife's laundry. Mira, you are responsible for cooking. Mia, you are her personal assistant. Under no circumstances should anyone disrespect her. Damien, you are her driver."
He looked at them sharply.
"Am I understood?"
"Yes, sir," they all answered in unison.
Jordan dismissed them and then pulled out a chair for Nica to sit. He took his own seat at the head of the table.
Nica smiled warmly.
"I appreciate everything you are doing for me, but I can do my own laundry, cook for myself, and take care of myself."
Jordan gently dragged her chair closer to his.
"I cannot let my queen stress herself," he said. "You are mine, and I will take care of you the best way I know how."
Nica blushed deeply.
Jordan then lifted her hand and kissed it gently.
Butterflies filled her stomach as she stared at him helplessly.
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7.9
I woke up in a sterile hospital room, my head split open from a horrific car crash.
But the pain in my skull was nothing compared to the memory burned into my retinas just before the impact: my billionaire husband, Dawson, walking into a luxury hotel with a woman who looked exactly like his dead first love.
When Dawson finally arrived at the ward, there was no panic or relief in his eyes. He just coldly looked at my bloody bandages.
"Your reckless driving just forced me to postpone the quarterly board meeting."
Even our seven-year-old son, who I almost died giving birth to, didn't spare me a single glance. He kicked my hospital bed in annoyance.
"The Wi-Fi here is garbage. You're a bad mom! Dad said Aunt Angelita should be the one living with us!"
My blood turned to ice. For five years, I had bent over backward, wearing the hideous pale dresses he picked, starving myself to maintain a fragile figure, all to be a perfect, obedient substitute for a ghost.
And this was what I got. An unfaithful husband who would rather bury me in debt than grant me a divorce, and a son who wished I was dead.
The weak, subservient Charlene died on that wet asphalt.
When the doctor pointed to Dawson and asked for his name, I looked at my husband with a hollow, defensive stare.
"Who are you?" I whispered.
Using retrograde amnesia as my shield, I was going to tear their perfect world apart.
8.4
Carissa's son was dying in the ICU, and the bone marrow match had just failed.
The billionaire father, Guilford Gates, cornered her with a cruel ultimatum: naturally conceive a "savior sibling" to save their son. But what shocked Carissa more was his family's sudden accusation that she had heartlessly sold her baby to them three years ago.
"You sold your own flesh and blood to us for five million dollars, so your body belongs to the Gates family."
She was dragged into their gilded estate, treated like a filthy, rented womb. Guilford's new fiancée mocked her, the matriarch humiliated her, and Guilford looked at her with pure disgust. When she desperately tried to feed her sick son and accidentally made him vomit, Guilford violently shoved her away and banned her from the room.
Carissa was devastated and entirely confused. She had never seen a single cent of that five million. Driven by a desperate need for the truth, she investigated and uncovered a horrifying reality: her own father and stepmother had secretly trafficked her baby to the billionaire behind her back, leaving her to bear the ultimate blame.
Looking at the bank transfer record bought with her son's life, the last shred of Carissa's vulnerability died.
She signed the conception contract without asking for a single penny. She was going to use the Gates family's immense power to destroy the blood relatives who sold her, and she would survive this hell to take back her son.
7.2
Azura Briggs was just a broke college student working freezing valet shifts to pay her adoptive mother's crushing medical debt.
Her desperate life shattered the night a bulletproof Maybach violently cornered her in an alley, and a ruthless billionaire kidnapped her by mistake.
After a harrowing escape, Azura was forced to take a humiliating "plus-one" gig at a high-end gala just to survive. But her date turned out to be the billionaire's arrogant nephew, who promptly abandoned her to the wolves. Cornered by a sleazy executive and his psychotic wife, Azura was publicly slapped, her dress torn, and left bleeding on the floor while hundreds of elites watched in disgust.
Just as she prepared to fight to the death, the crowd violently parted. Hunter Mcintosh, the terrifying man who had kidnapped her days ago, dropped to his knees in the broken glass and wrapped his bespoke jacket around her trembling shoulders.
Azura was completely paralyzed. Why was the monster who threatened her life now destroying billionaires just to protect her?
But the illusion of safety didn't last. Trapped in his Maybach hours later, Hunter threw a draconian employment contract at her feet.
"Sign it, and her care is covered. Forever."
He knew exactly how to break her. He was offering to pay off her mother's debt, but only if she signed her life away to become his personal assistant. With no other way out, Azura picked up the heavy pen.
7.9
On my wedding day, my fiancé Connor received an urgent phone call.
He told me a D-list actress had broken her leg on set, then abandoned me right at the altar.
In my past life, I cried until my throat bled, begging him not to leave.
But my tears only brought endless humiliation. My mother and adopted sister mocked me, framed me, and forged my signature to steal my multi-million dollar trust fund.
They kicked me out of the family estate without a single dime.
I ended up freezing to death in the minus-twenty-degree New York blizzard, listening to my mother's voicemail telling me to die in the street as long as I didn't bleed on her carpets.
Until my last breath, I couldn't understand why my own blood relatives hated me so much, yet treated an adopted daughter like a precious princess.
The only person who showed me any mercy—draping his wool coat over my frozen corpse and giving me a proper burial—was Connor's ruthless, untouchable uncle, Harding Snow.
Opening my eyes again, I was back in the bridal suite, right as Connor was rushing out the door.
This time, I didn't shed a single tear.
I let him run to his actress, then walked straight into the VIP room to face the most feared billionaire on Wall Street.
"The wedding proceeds as planned, but the groom's name changes to yours."
7.6
My father raised seven brilliant orphans to be my potential husbands. For years, I only had eyes for one of them, the cold and distant Damien Paul, believing his distance was a wall I just had to break through.
That belief shattered last night when I found him in the garden, kissing his foster sister, Eve—the fragile girl my family took in at his request, the one I had treated like my own sister.
But the true horror came when I overheard the other six Fellows talking in the library.
They weren't competing for me. They were working together, orchestrating "accidents" and mocking my "stupid, blind" devotion to keep me away from Damien.
Their loyalty wasn't to me, the heiress who held their futures in her hands. It was to Eve.
I wasn't a woman to be won. I was a foolish burden to be managed. The seven men I grew up with, the men who owed my family everything, were a cult, and she was their queen.
This morning, I walked into my father's study to make a decision that would burn their world to the ground. He smiled, asking if I'd finally won Damien over.
"No, Dad," I said, my voice firm. "I'm marrying Hunter Beach."
9.4
I was the eldest daughter of the powerful Kirk family, sent away to a Swiss sanatorium to recover from my supposed mental illness.
But my stepmother, Johnie, never intended for me to get better. She sent her personal cleaners to drag me onto a plane back to Washington D.C.
In my past life, I didn't know they were assassins. I was forcefully injected with heavy sedatives and locked in a secret torture chamber inside our luxury estate.
My stepmother and cousin skimmed my inheritance while watching me suffer.
They framed me as a crazy addict, and my own father, a sitting Senator, turned a blind eye to protect his political career.
"Her political value is gone, just get rid of her quietly."
That was the last thing I heard my father say before I was brutally slaughtered by my own family.
Until my last breath, I couldn't understand why they hated me so much.
Why did my father let them force those pills down my throat?
Why was my life worth less than my stepmother's public image?
Opening my eyes again, the freezing sensation of lake water filling my lungs vanished.
I was back in the VIP room of the St. Moritz Sanatorium in 2023.
It was the exact morning before the cleaners walked through my door with uncapped syringes.
This time, I wouldn't just survive. I was going to cut the throat of the Kirk family.