He Cheated Before Our Wedding, So I Slept With My Future Uncle‑in‑Law

Sol's lips twisted into a sardonic smile, her face giving nothing away. “Do you actually think I'm joking?”

“The invitations are out, and the wedding is next week. You're really gonna break up with me over something this small?” Zamir Peterson's expression was taut, barely containing his frustration. To him, Sol's refusal was just a tactic—a lover's bluff, a strategic retreat to push him into chasing her. They'd been together three years. No way she'd actually leave now.

Sollet out a dry laugh. “Breaking up means you get a free pass to fool around with Carly. No ‘old woman’ like me weighing you down—you can chase all the younger, hotter women you want.”

She'd heard the whispers at the club.

So she was still pissed.

“You're the one who won't let me touch you. Ask anyone—what couple goes three years without sex? Sol, I'm a normal man, not some celibate monk.”

The implication was clear: she was the problem. Not even a real woman.

Three years ago, she'd barely escaped an assault. It left her terrified of men getting too close. It took six months into their relationship before she could hold hands, hug, or kiss Zamir without her body locking up. But whenever things went further, she'd flash back to that dark alley—to those vile hands grabbing her.

For years, she'd quietly gone to therapy. She'd made so much progress. She'd planned to give herself to him on their wedding night and finally tell him the truth. Now? It felt pointless.

Sol's eyes glittered with hurt. “So you turned the worst thing that ever happened to me into gossip for Carly?”

Panic flashed across Zamir's face. He scrambled for an excuse. “I was drunk that night. I was just venting... I didn't mean for it to slip.”

He did have feelings for her—at least he told himself he did—but over time, he'd grown tired. Every time things got heated, her trauma got in the way. With no outlet for his frustration, Carly appeared: young, lively, looking at him like he was everything, deliberately tempting him. He didn't resist. He cheated. Afterward, guilt and shame ate at him, but the affair kept pulling him back. He couldn't break free.

“Blaming everyone but yourself for not being able to control yourself—that's a real convenient excuse for cheating,” Solsaid coldly. “If you'd had the guts to break up with me to my face, I might've at least respected you as a man.”

Zamir's frustration boiled over. “Sol Smith, I've supported you all these years. The company is mine. I built it. Are you really gonna walk away with half my assets because we're breaking up? Isn't that greedy?”

Sol's gaze didn't waver. “I'm just claiming what's mine.”

Without her behind-the-scenes work, did he really think he could've risen so fast? Did he actually see himself as some business genius? Some golden boy?

“What do you mean, ‘what's mine’? Those shares were meant for Mrs. Peterson.”

In other words, if she refused to be his wife, everything he'd given her would be forfeited. Sol Smith had weathered every hardship with him, and now she was supposed to swallow her pride and accept his betrayal?

When she didn't answer, Zamir grew bolder. “Sol Smith, I can live without being intimate with you, but you need to accept Carly being in the picture. Isn't all of us living happily together better than anything else?”

For all his good looks, his delusional logic was almost laughable.

“Zamir, you disgust me! How could I ever have loved someone so shameless?”

The contempt in her glare cut through him like a blade. Zamir's temper snapped. He grabbed her chin. “Don't look at me like that. You're no angel yourself. The fact that I'm still willing to spoil you and marry you means you should be grateful.”

“A few good days and you forget who you depend on?”

The air between them turned suffocating. Sol Smith struggled against his grip, her elegant face flushing red as she fought for air, her eyes locked on his with icy contempt.

Realizing what he'd done, Zamir let go and stepped back. “Sol Smith, I didn't mean it. You provoked me with your words...”

Even now, he was shifting the blame onto her.

He never failed to disappoint.

Sol Smith staggered back, catching herself on the desk, gasping for air.

“I love you too much. I can't stand the thought of losing you...”

Regret flickered across his face as he reached for her, but Sol Smith recoiled like a cornered cat.

“Stay away from me!”

Zamir froze.

“From this moment on, we're done. We're nothing to each other. What's mine stays mine. And if you try anything, I'll expose your little affair with Carly.”

After she left, Sol made a call.

“Cut all support for Windward Corp.”

Then she contacted a real estate agent and dropped the price of the house for a quick sale.

By that afternoon, someone had toured the place and signed the contract.

Sol packed up her things, shipped them to her family home in London, and tossed all of Zamir's stuff into the trash.

She didn't feel a single pang of nostalgia as she drove away.

That night, she checked into a five-star hotel in Dublin.

Later, Zamir came home to a dark house. His usually soft features hardened into a frown.

Before, no matter how late it was, Sol Smith would always come out to greet him the second she heard his car.

Now, the lock code had been changed.

His gaze landed on the overflowing trash can outside, and his expression soured.

He immediately called Sol Smith. “You threw out my stuff. What does that mean?”

Sol Smith stood by the hotel's floor-to-ceiling window, sipping her coffee, taking in the neon-lit cityscape. She felt liberated. Free.

“Trash belongs in the bin.”

She ended the call and blocked his number.

She was done with Zamir's betrayal, but memories of the past three years still left her hollow. She could already picture her father mocking her setbacks the moment she returned.

A tipsy haze settled over her. She powered down her phone and drifted into a deep sleep.

...

At a bar, Zamir sat alone, knocking back one strong drink after another, his expression unreadable. Even the blaring music couldn't cut through the chaos in his head.

His friends hovered nearby, too nervous to approach him, so they called Carly to calm him down.

Carly hurried over, slid up beside him, and wrapped her arms around his neck. “Zamir, Sol Smith's just acting out. Once she's out there struggling, she'll realize how good she had it with you.”

Zamir finished another shot, his demeanor frosty. “You're right. I'll wait for her to fail and come crawling back.”

He dialed a number and gave orders.

“Cancel my secondary card and empty Sol Smith's bank accounts.”

No money, no options. Let's see how long that pride of hers lasts.

Then he looked at Carly, gripped her chin, and kissed her fiercely.

Carly whimpered softly, melting against him, matching his hunger.

“Zamir, I adore you...”