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 6
By Monday morning, Oakridge High no longer felt like a school.It felt like a courtroom where the verdict had already been decided.
Layla felt it the moment she stepped onto campus-the way conversations faltered and restarted in whispers, the way eyes tracked her movement with thinly veiled curiosity. Phones dipped and lifted again, recording nothing and everything all at once. The video had spread faster than the truth ever could.
Chloe stayed glued to her side, her shoulder brushing Layla's protectively as they moved through the hallway.
"Eyes forward," Chloe muttered. "Breathe and let them choke on their curiosity."
Layla tried. She really did but every teacher's gaze lingered a second too long, every smile felt sharpened by judgment. Even people she'd known for years looked at her differently now-as if she'd crossed an invisible line and couldn't step back. Visible eyes of mockery followed her till dismissal.
When the final bell echoed through Oakridge High. It echoed like a gunshot. For Layla, the hallways didn't feel like school-they once more like a courtroom as she walked through.She wanted to vanish into the floor, into the shadows, into anywhere but here but the memory of Elias's eyes on her last night-the slow, measured way he had claimed her presence-still lingered, a shadow in her chest she couldn't shake.
Her phone buzzed in her pocket. She froze before looking. One simple and chilling message popped up.
Meet me. Now.
Her pulse spiked as she saw the name.
She glanced at Chloe. "I... I need to leave," she murmured, the words hollow even to her own ears.
Chloe's hand tightened briefly over hers. "No. Don't."
"I can't stay here,not like this." Layla pulled her backpack tighter and walked away.
The streets outside hit her with a cold slap of air. She hugged her arms to her chest, boots crunching against the gravel as she walked faster, wishing she could escape not just the eyes, but the memory of him-the pull of someone she shouldn't want but couldn't stop thinking about.
And then Liam appeared,leaning casually against the corner of a side street, hands tucked into his jacket pockets, lips tugging into a smirk that didn't reach his eyes.
"You think you can just walk away?" he called, low and dangerous, stepping toward her.
Layla froze, heart hammering. "Liam... it's over," she said, trying to keep her voice steady.
"Over?" he echoed, voice soft, almost hypnotic. "You cheated on me and you think it's over?"
Her chest tightened. Rage flared alongside fear. "You cheated first! Right in front of me!" Her voice grew sharper. "I saw it and it's over between us. I'm done."
He stepped closer, eyes narrowing, a dangerous edge cutting through every syllable. "Don't lie to me. Don't tell me you weren't thinking about me while you were there."
"I wasn't thinking about you, pervert," she shot back, stepping back instinctively. "I was done the second I saw you kissing her!"
Liam's hands shot out and grabbed her arm. She yelped, trying to pull free.
"Let go of me!" she shouted.
But he didn't instead he leaned closer, his weight pressing against hers.
"You can't just leave! You're mine-no one touches you, no one looks at you without me knowing. You think you can humiliate me and walk away?"
Her stomach churned. The panic, the adrenaline-it all surged together, sharp and cruel. She twisted in his grip, but he was too strong, pulling her back with a force that made her stumble against the wall.
"Liam-stop! Please!" she gasped, trying to wrench herself free.
He smirked, leaning in, his face a breath away from hers. "You think you have a choice?"
And then-
A voice cut through the tension like a blade.
"Stay away from her."
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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?