Married To My Ex's Ruthless Uncle

We need the signature now, Ms. Martin. He has forty-eight hours at most." Audriana stared at the critical condition notice in Dr. Finch's hand. Her stomach violently cramped, folding her posture forward. Dr. Finch hesitated, lowering the clipboard slightly. "Ms. Martin, you should also know—the initial scans picked up a mass. We haven't been able to biopsy yet, given the cardiac emergency, but it is… concerning." The word mass landed in her chest like a second blow, but she could not process it. Not now. Behind the thick glass of the ICU, her father, Harper, lay buried under a tangle of plastic tubes. The heart monitor next to his bed let out a frantic, high-pitched scream that felt like a drill boring directly into her skull. "I..." Audriana's voice cracked. Her throat was so dry it felt lined with sandpaper. Her mother had been sedated in a private room down the hall. The sight of Harper coding on the table had shattered Edythe completely—she had collapsed, screaming, until a nurse pressed a needle into her arm. Audriana was alone. She reached out with a trembling hand. Her fingers felt like blocks of ice. She took the pen from the doctor and dragged the tip across the paper. A hot tear slipped down her cheek, splashing onto the ink and blurring her last name. The sheer weight of her helplessness crushed her chest, making it impossible to pull air into her lungs. Her phone vibrated in her pocket. She pulled it out. The screen lit up with a text from Eston, her ex-fiancé. I told you not to be stubborn, Audriana. The Martin Group is mine by Friday. Beg me, and I might pay for the funeral. Audriana's jaw locked so hard her teeth ached. The metallic taste of blood flooded her mouth as she bit down on the inside of her cheek. She swiped her thumb across the screen, blocking his number permanently. The despair in her chest hardened into a cold, sharp stone. She opened her contacts. Her thumb hovered over a name she had sworn never to touch. Ellwood Maxwell. The apex predator of Wall Street. Eston's uncle. Her fingertips turned bone-white as she pressed the call button. The phone rang twice before a robotic, sterile voice prompted her to wait. A second later, a male assistant answered. "Mr. Maxwell does not take unsolicited meetings. Good day." The line went dead. Audriana's breathing turned ragged. She shoved the phone into her pocket, spun around, and ran toward the elevator. Her heels clicked frantically against the linoleum floor. She burst through the hospital doors and into the freezing Manhattan rain. Twenty minutes later, she stood inside the massive, echoing lobby of the Maxwell building. Rainwater dripped from her soaked hair, running down her neck and soaking into her collar. "Ma'am, you cannot pass the turnstiles without an appointment," the security guard said, stepping into her path. His hand rested heavily on his belt. Audriana didn't argue. She unclasped the Patek Philippe watch from her left wrist—the last valuable thing she owned, a gift from her father. She slammed it onto the marble security desk. "Five minutes," she gasped, her chest heaving. "Give me five minutes in his private elevator. Keep the watch." The guard stared at the diamonds circling the watch face. He slowly stepped aside, swiping his access card on the VIP turnstile. Audriana pushed through and stepped into the private elevator. The doors slid shut. The high-speed ascent made her stomach drop. She stared at the digital numbers climbing rapidly, her wet hands smoothing down her ruined skirt. The doors chimed open on the top floor. Heavy walnut double doors stood at the end of the hall. A secretary jumped up from her desk, shouting a warning, but Audriana ignored her. She threw her body weight against the heavy wood and pushed the doors open. The office was massive and swallowed in shadows. Outside the floor-to-ceiling windows, lightning cracked across the dark sky. Ellwood Maxwell stood with his back to her, facing the storm. He slowly turned around. He held a silver Zippo lighter in his right hand, flipping the lid open and closed with a rhythmic, metallic clink. His dark eyes locked onto her. It was the look of a predator watching a wounded animal stumble into his cage. Audriana's breath hitched. The sheer force of his presence forced her to take a half-step back. "Security is on the way, Mr. Maxwell, I apologize—" the secretary stammered from the doorway. Ellwood raised one hand, barely moving his fingers. The secretary instantly went silent, backed out, and pulled the heavy doors shut. The silence in the room was suffocating. "I need a loan," Audriana forced the words out. Her voice was raspy. Ellwood walked toward the massive leather sofa and sat down. He crossed his long legs, resting his arms on the backrest. He looked entirely relaxed, yet dangerously lethal. Audriana walked to his desk. Her hands shook as she pulled a document from her wet bag and slapped it onto the glass surface. "Thirty percent of the Martin Group shares. I need my father's surgery covered, and I need capital to save the company." Ellwood didn't even glance at the paper. He let out a low, dark chuckle. "Your company is a sinking ship, Audriana. Your shares are worth less than the paper they are printed on." Panic seized her throat. She stepped closer to him. "I will do anything. Anything you want." Ellwood stopped playing with the lighter. He stood up. He was a foot taller than her, and as he closed the distance between them, his heavy footsteps sounded like a countdown. He backed her up until her hips hit the edge of the desk. He placed his hands on the glass on either side of her waist, trapping her. The sharp, clean scent of cedarwood and expensive tobacco wrapped around her. He stared down at her face. His eyes lingered on her eyes, a strange, dark flicker passing through his gaze. "I want you to marry me," he said. His voice was a low, magnetic rumble that lacked any warmth. Audriana's pupils dilated. The air left her lungs. "What?" "You heard me." Ellwood pushed off the desk, stepping back into the shadows. "You become Mrs. Maxwell. That is the only way the Martin Group survives." He picked up a thick folder from his desk and tossed it in front of her. A pre-nuptial agreement. "You have sixty seconds to decide. Otherwise, the door is behind you." Audriana stared at the thick stack of paper. The image of her father struggling to breathe flashed behind her eyes. Her fingers twitched. She reached out, her fingertips brushing against the sharp edge of the contract.