Seven Minutes with my Ex's Uncle
It was meant to be the happiest night of Layla's life-her eighteenth, the moment she officially stepped into adulthood.
Instead, she walked into a crowded nightclub and watched her boyfriend laugh, drink, and kiss another girl while the world looked on.
Humiliation followed swiftly. Dragged into a cruel game of Truth or Dare, Layla became the night's entertainment. When the bottle landed on her, the challenge sounded harmless enough: seven minutes in heaven with a man of her choice.
Everyone expected her to choose him.
She didn't.
Her gaze went to the man watching silently from the shadows-his uncle. The one man she was never supposed to want, yet couldn't look away from.
Seven minutes was all it took to spark something forbidden. Something dark. Something that refused to stay contained.
When the night ended, nothing returned to normal. He became her obsession and most dangerous temptation. And Layla found herself willing to risk everything-family, reputation, even her own heart-for a man she was never meant to desire.
This is a story of betrayal, passion, and the pull of a love that should never exist.
Once caught in it, there is no turning back.
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Chapter 3
The knock came hard and sharp-three strikes that cut clean through the silence.Elias didn't flinch.He was already on his feet before the third knock landed. He reached the door and opened it just enough to reveal himself.
And there stood Liam.The music from the club thudded faintly down the hallway behind him, but the moment his eyes met Elias's, the bravado drained from his posture. His shoulders stiffened as fear flickered quickly and instinctively.
He feared Elias just like everyone that even his name brought chills to his spine.
"What do you want?" Elias asked calmly.
Liam swallowed. "I-I'm looking for Layla."
Elias's gaze sharpened by a fraction. "She's resting."
Something dark twisted in Liam's expression.
"Resting?" he repeated, disbelief lacing his tone. He tried to peer past Elias's shoulder.Elias didn't move aside-but Liam saw her anyway.
Layla lay on the bed, turned slightly on her side, hair fanned across the pillow, chest rising and falling slowly and peaceful,untouched by the chaos she'd left behind.
Liam's face went red.
"What the hell is this?" he snapped. "That's my-"
"She chose where she is," Elias cut in coldly. "You don't get to question it now."
Rage ignited in Liam's eyes. His hands curled into fists.
He didn't dare argue,Instead, he turned abruptly and stormed down the hallway, footsteps echoing violently against the walls.
The bathroom door slammed so hard the mirrors rattled.
Liam staggered forward, breathing like a cornered animal. He gripped the sink, veins bulging in his forearms, and ripped it loose with a roar.
"Mine," he snarled at his reflection-at the blood already trickling from his knuckles.
"She was mine."
He swung again and the mirror exploded.
Shards rained down, slicing his skin as he punched through the glass, again and again, until his fists were slick with red. He didn't feel it.
"Bitch, you made me look weak," he hissed, grabbing a bottle of cleaner and hurling it across the room. It shattered against the tiles. A chemical stench burned his lungs.
He kicked the trash can hard enough to dent the metal, then tore the towel rack free and slammed it into the wall, over and over, until drywall crumbled beneath the blows.
"I warned her," he spat. "I warned her not to embarrass me."
His chest heaved up and down.
"She thinks she can crawl into his bed and walk away?" His laugh was broken, hysterical. "I'll ruin her. I'll make her regret ever pointing at him."
He dragged his bloody hand down his face, smearing red across his cheek.
"I'll kill her," he whispered, voice shaking with promise. "If she thinks this ends tonight, she's dead wrong."
Back in the private room, silence returned.
Elias closed the door slowly and locked it.
He turned as Layla hadn't stirred.
She looked younger and softer in sleep- Vulnerable in a way she hadn't been when she lifted her chin and pointed at him in front of everyone.
Elias crossed the room and sat beside her on the bed.Carefully, he brushed a strand of hair away from her face, tucking it behind her ear. His touch was light as in protective and possessive.
"This world doesn't forgive choices like yours," he murmured as his jaw tightened.
"And it doesn't forgive men like me for accepting them."
He studied her for a long moment-this girl who had stepped into danger without hesitation, who had burned bridges without looking back.
Quietly, as if admitting it aloud made it real, he said:
"Layla... we're in this shit together now."
He stood up at the edge of the bed for a long moment, watching the slow, steady rise of her chest. He bent and slipped one arm beneath her knees, the other around her back, lifting her easily against his chest. She stirred faintly, a soft sound leaving her throat, but she didn't open her eyes. Instinctively, she curled closer, her fingers brushing his shirt before going still again.
Elias froze and for a brief, dangerous second, something twisted tight in his chest.He adjusted his grip, holding her more securely, and moved toward the door. The hallway outside was dim and quiet now-the party dulled, the chaos distant. A few people glanced up as he passed, their laughter dying when they saw who it was and who he carried.
No one dared to say a word.
Elias walked through the club without slowing, Layla's head resting against his shoulder, her hair brushing his jaw. Neon lights washed over them, but he didn't look around.
Outside, the night air was cool and sharp. He opened the passenger door, laid her down carefully, and fastened the seatbelt himself. Even then, he hesitated-adjusting her jacket, brushing her hair away from her face once more.
A mistake, his mind warned but he did it anyway.He closed the door and went around to the driver's side.
Elias drove in silence, the engine's low hum the only sound filling the space between them. Layla remained still beside him, her body curled into the passenger seat, lost in sleep. Her face, serene in unconsciousness, betrayed none of the turmoil she had felt hours earlier.
Elias' eyes flicked to her briefly, watching again the rise and fall of her chest, his hand still gripping the steering wheel, fingers white-knuckled with a tension that hadn't left him. He wasn't used to feeling anything other than control, but the first time of meeting Layla... everything felt different. From the moment she was near him left him unsettled and tethered to a dangerous obsession.
When they reached Layla's home,he parked in the driveway and killed the engine. The street was quiet, the air cool and crisp, and the house in front of them stood still-unaware of the storm that had unfolded the night before.
He glanced at Layla who was still asleep.He could see the faint bruises of exhaustion under her eyes, the subtle tension in her jawline that betrayed the internal conflict she was trying to suppress.
Layla stirred slightly, but didn't wake. Her hand curled slightly, fingers twitching, like her body was still fighting against the reality of what had happened. Elias sighed quietly, wishing there was an easier way.
He opened his door and walked around the car to the passenger side. He hesitated for a moment as the weight of the situation pressing down on him, before gently shaking her shoulder.
"Layla," he murmured softly, his voice low but commanding. "You're home."
Her eyelids fluttered, and for a brief second, he saw a flicker of recognition but when her eyes opened fully, they were vacant and distant.
The moment hung there, thick with unspoken words, before she hastily unbuckled her seatbelt with stiff movements. She turned her head away from him, eyes focused on the house in front of her, as if it were the only thing she could tether herself to.
Without a word, she opened the door, stepped out, and rushed to the front door of the house. Her steps were quick, almost frantic, as though if she could just get inside, she could forget everything that had happened, bury the mess of it all behind the walls of her home.
Elias watched her go, his gaze fixed on the back of her retreating figure and later at the door she had just slammed behind her, hearing the finality in the sound, the weight of her decision hanging in the air.
With a heavy exhale, Elias slowly turned and made his way back to the car.
As he pulled away from the curb, the house fading into the rearview mirror, Elias couldn't shake the feeling of her absence in the car, the quiet left behind after she had stepped out of his world and into hers. He had been prepared for everything but this-her leaving, shutting him out without a word.
Her face burned in his memory, the way she had looked at him earlier, vulnerable but determined. She thought she could walk away.The sound of tires on asphalt drowned the heavy silence. Elias's jaw clenched, and for the first time in years, he felt the pull of regret in the pit of his stomach.
Layla had made her choice, but she didn't understand that there was no going back now. She had stepped into this world with both eyes wide open. She had chosen him-whether she admitted it or not-and now the consequences of that choice would be felt.There were no innocent decisions when it came to him. No easy exits.
The only question now was how long it would take for her to realize that.
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8.4
She'd spent her whole life hearing the same thing: cold, distant and untouchable.Like she was something behind glass-safe to admire, impossible to reach.
Then she met him.
A man who was sitting in the dark when she walked in. A stranger in her mother's house. All hard edges and quiet intensity, the kind of man who didn't need to raise his voice to fill a room. When he looked at her, really looked, something shifted. The air got thicker which made her pulse kicked up in a way she'd never felt before.
He didn't touch her because he didn't have to.
He just muttered one word;low and rough, like gravel and honey.
"Kneel."
And she did.
Not because she was weak,not because she didn't know better but because for the first time in her life, someone saw past the glass and the careful distance she'd built around herself. He saw what she'd been hiding-the part of her that wanted to be taken, not just touched.
"Yes, Daddy."
The words left her mouth before she could think. And when they did, something inside her cracked wide open.
From that night on, Jessy wasn't the girl people whispered about anymore. She was the woman who'd tasted danger and couldn't get enough. The one who finally understood what it meant to feel.
7.8
THIS IS A DARK ROMANCE FEATURING DARK CONTENT AND MORALLY AMBIGUOUS CHARACTERS.
Peyton has been in her marriage, enduring the pain of watching Odin, her husband, flirt and cheat in the guise of an open marriage-a decision he made without her agreement.
She hit a dead end when Odin broke the number one rule: bringing one of his flings to their home, their bed. That's when she made an impulsive decision-cheat and not feel guilty.
He wants her to get a boyfriend? No, she'd do him one better. One night, that's all it took, and the next day she finds herself tangled with her husband's brother.
Axel-He's a live wire, pure mischief and untamed. He doesn't just give Peyton what she's been starved of; he ignites a fire she didn't know she had, making her crave the wild freedom only he offers. With Axel, it's not just a fling; it's an explosion of everything forbidden.
Raphael-A little unhinged? More like a master of controlled chaos. He's the kind of man who sears himself into your soul, leaving an unforgettable mark deep in your memories. Raphael doesn't just flip a switch in your brain; he rewires it entirely, making you question every sane choice you've ever made.
Ready to dive deeper into Peyton's dangerous game?
7.9
On Christmas Eve, the snow fell in relentless sheets.
My grandmother and I were cast out into the snow as if we were nothing by my uncle.
My aunt cursed me as a bad luck charm, while my uncle's boot landed fiercely in my chest.
I knelt in the freezing snow, clutching my grandmother's body as it grew cold, my nails digging into my flesh, convinced that death awaited us tonight.
Suddenly, the blinding headlights cut through the night.
A convoy of Rolls-Royce cars, bearing diplomatic plates, silently blocked the entrance to the rundown neighborhood.
The elderly butler strode directly to my grandmother, who had been "blind" for forty years, and knelt on one knee, "Your Highness, forgive us for arriving so late."
8.9
I lived as the "scarred ghost" of the Stephens penthouse, a wife kept in the shadows because my facial burns offended my billionaire husband's aesthetic. For years, I endured Kason's coldness and my family's abuse, a submissive puppet who believed she had nowhere else to go.
The end came with a blue folder tossed onto my silk sheets. Kason's mistress was back, and he wanted me out by sunset, offering a five-million-dollar "silence fee" to go hide my face in the countryside.
The betrayal cut deep when I discovered my father had already traded my divorce for a corporate bailout. My step-sister mocked my "trashy" appearance at a high-end boutique, while the sales staff treated me like a common thief. At home, my father threatened to cut off my mother's life-saving medicine unless I crawled back to Kason to beg for a better deal.
I was the girl who took the blame for a fire she didn't start, the wife who worshipped a man who never looked her in the eye, and the daughter used as a human bargaining chip. I was supposed to be broken, penniless, and desperate.
But the woman who stood up wasn't the weak Elease Finch anymore; she was Phoenix, a tactical predator with a $500 million secret. I signed the divorce papers without a single tear, walked past my stunned husband, and wiped the Finch family's bank accounts clean with a few taps on my phone.
"Your money is dirty," I told Kason with a cold smile. "I prefer clean hands."
The cage is open, the hunt has begun, and I'm starting with the people who thought a scar made me weak.
7.4
For three years, I documented the slow death of my marriage in a black journal. It was my 100-point divorce plan: for every time my husband, Blake, chose his first love, Ariana, over me, I deducted points. When the score hit zero, I would leave.
The final points vanished the night he left me bleeding out from a car crash. I was eight weeks pregnant with the child we had prayed for.
In the ER, the nurses frantically called him-the star surgeon of the very hospital I was dying in.
"Dr. Santos, we have a Jane Doe, O-negative, bleeding out. She's pregnant, and we're about to lose them both. We need you to authorize an emergency blood transfer."
His voice came over the speaker, cold and impatient.
"I can't. My priority is Miss Whitfield. Do what you can for the patient, but I can't divert anything right now."
He hung up. He condemned his own child to death to ensure his ex-girlfriend had resources on standby after a minor procedure.
8.3
"I don't want your money, Elara. I want the five years you took from me."
Elara's world shatters when her father gambles away her freedom to the most dangerous man in the city. Silas Vane isn't just a ruthless billionaire; he's the Alpha of the Blackwood Pack, and he's been hunting Elara for years.
To Elara, he's a stranger holding a debt she can never pay. To Silas, she is the mate who vanished, leaving him with a scarred heart and a thirst for vengeance. Trapped in his obsidian estate, Elara must navigate a world of shifting shadows and primal instincts. As the line between captor and protector blurs, a dark secret begins to surface: Elara isn't as human as she thinks, and her "debt" was written in blood long before she was born.
Can she escape the Alpha's golden-eyed gaze, or will she finally remember why she ran in the first place?