Marrying His Ruthless Uncle

Three years after dumping Julian, his sleek Maybach swerved and cut me off right in front of the hospital entrance.

He draped an arm around his fiance. His gaze swept over my heavily pregnant belly, then landed on my beat-up used car.

A harsh scoff left his lips. Living in the gutters after leaving me, huh? Don't tell me you're going to claim this kid is mine.

I knit my brows. "Are you psychotic? We broke up three years ago."

Chapter 1

I rolled down the window of my beat-up used car and swept a cold glance over the gridlocked traffic, not wanting to spare him another second of my time.

His oversized luxury ride wasn't doing him any favors in this mess anyway. Besides, I lived close by and just needed a routine prenatal checkup. "Mind your own business."

Ignoring Julian's darkening expression, I stepped on the gas and squeezed my clunker through a gap in the traffic.

Julian hit the gas to cut me off again, but his massive Maybach was immediately boxed in by the bumper-to-bumper gridlock. A vein popped in his neck as he slammed his palm against the steering wheel, forced to watch me drive off.

I couldn't figure out why a billionaire heir and Aspen would be slumming it at a public hospital.

After dumping him, I genuinely thought I had scrubbed him from my life for good.

Back in college, he spent three exhausting months chasing me. I eventually caved, touched by his relentless devotion.

But it was all a sick, twisted joke. He fed me a sob story, claiming he was a dirt-poor orphan from some remote mountain village.

I bought every word. I loved him just the same.

I naively believed that as long as we hustled, we could build a life together from scratch. We lived in a cramped, dingy apartment, but I thought we were happy.

He used to hold my hand as we strolled through night markets, sharing cheap street food.

But that quiet peace didn't last. Behind my back, he took out a massive loan from an underground loan shark.

Fifty grand in startup capital vanished into thin air overnight.

When I found out, we had our first massive fight. Fifty thousand dollars was a suffocating, life-ruining number to me back then.

Julian just looked at me, an unspoken validation flashing in his eyes. "Quinn, are you giving up on me now? I just wanted to start a business so you wouldn't have to struggle so much. I didn't mean to lose it all."

I looked at his kicked-puppy expression and felt my resolve crumble. I took on extra shifts, bleeding myself dry to pay off his debt.

Then, one night while dropping off a late-night food delivery, I spotted him. Julian was dressed in a sharp designer suit, his arm wrapped intimately around Aspen's waist.

He laughed with a group of frat guys. "That idiot is actually still paying off my debt."

Aspen giggled, leaning into his chest. "Julian, don't play too hard. Maybe she actually loves you."

"Yeah, I see her pulling back-to-back shifts at the diner during the day, and driving Uber all night just to scrape by. It's kind of pathetic. You should just tell her about your billionaire trust fund."

Julian nonchalantly flicked the ash off his cigar. "I've seen plenty of these bottom-feeding gold diggers. If I don't fake going bankrupt to test her, how else would I know if she's after me or my black card?"

I gripped the paper takeout bag until it crinkled. I turned on my heel and walked away. The neon streetlights blurred into streaks of color.

I wiped my face with the back of my hand.

It came away wet.

I was almost late for that delivery. I finished my shift with mechanical precision.

When I pushed open the door to our cramped apartment, Julian was slouched on the worn sofa, watching TV. "Why the hell are you always home so late?" he complained, irritation lacing his voice. "You never spend time with me anymore."

"I'm quitting the extra shifts," I said. "I need to focus on my grad school applications."

Julian let out a mocking laugh. "What? I thought you were dying to pay off my debt? Didn't you say you'd love me no matter what happened?"

I just looked at him. For the first time, I studied his face with absolute clarity. My deadpan stare seemed to make his skin crawl. He shifted uncomfortably.

"Look it's fine if you don't pay it back," he muttered, his tone shifting. "I actually need to tell you something. I'm actually the heir to the"

I smiled. I cut him off, indifferent to whatever twisted lie or flex he was about to drop.

"Let's break up."

Julian froze. A second later, his features twisted into defensive rage.

"Why? Is it because I'm broke? Are you just like all the other girls? Only interested in guys with deep pockets?"

"Exactly," I said, my voice dead steady. "I like money. A pathetic, broke loser like you doesn't deserve to breathe the same air as me."

A liar doesn't deserve a real heart.

Chapter 2

Julian spent three straight days bombarding me with one-sided arguments, fake apologies, and pathetic begging. He even camped out in the filthy hallway. Since my name was on the lease, I kicked his ass out.

Finally, the spoiled billionaire heir snapped.

He kicked my front door so hard the hinges rattled, screaming through the cheap wood that I was a short-sighted, low-class bitch who would regret this for the rest of my life.

After that, he vanished from my reality. The only place I saw his face was plastered across celebrity gossip sites.

It didn't take long for Julian and Aspen to start parading around high-profile events. The paparazzi ate them up, churning out endless tabloid rumors.

Yet, whenever reporters shoved microphones in their faces, Aspen would play the shy, innocent card. "You guys are overthinking it. Julian and I are just childhood best friends."

Julian would stand right beside her, staring at her with this sickeningly soft look in his eyes, offering only a cryptic, handsome smile. Their calculated ambiguity drove the internet wild.

Finally, at a blue-chip charity gala, Julian dropped an eight-figure bid on a blinding diamond necklace just to clasp it around Aspen's neck.

That was the official confirmation. The perfect billionaire heir and his stunning socialite. A match made in heaven. Everyone was obsessed.

I suddenly remembered the most expensive piece of jewelry Julian had ever given me. It was a cheap plastic necklace from the dollar store, the kind you buy for five bucks a dozen.

He had looked at me with those fake, guilt-ridden eyes and promised, "When I make it big, I'll buy you the real thing."

Like an idiot, I had been so moved. If that flimsy plastic chain hadn't snapped, I would have worn it every single day.

The truth was, he never lacked the funds. He just didn't think I was worth the swipe of his credit card. I wasn't worth the effort.

I tried to block out their existence, but Julian and Aspen were inescapable. They dominated my feed, the screens in the subway, and even the casual gossip of strangers waiting in line for coffee.

I'd be lying if I said it didn't mess with my head. Sometimes, I found my nails digging into my palms, wondering if my existence was just naturally unworthy of being cherished.

But no matter how shaky my grip on reality felt, the rent was still due. I had to keep moving. I forced myself to drown in my applications for a full-ride scholarship to an Ivy League grad program. It was the only way to keep the noise out of my head.

Yet, even in the dead silence of the public library, I couldn't escape his circle. I ran into the same frat brothers who used to wear ratty t-shirts to help Julian sell his "poor boy" act. Now, they boxed me in between the bookshelves, their designer watches flashing as they sneered at me.

Gold digger. Delusional. Trash.

The insults hit like physical blows. I kept my eyes glued to my textbook, gripping my pen so hard my knuckles turned white. I couldn't afford to fight back against guys with trust funds and high-powered lawyers. Seeing that I wouldn't take the bait, they clicked their tongues in boredom and eventually sauntered off.

The following year, the acceptance letter hit my inbox. The sheer weight lifting off my chest was intoxicating.

The rush of securing my own future instantly washed away any lingering bitterness and panic. Because I had worked myself to the bone to pay off Julian's fabricated debts, I actually had a decent amount of savings padded up. For the first time in years, the suffocating tension in my shoulders finally relaxed.

Of course, that was the exact moment my landlord called. She coldly informed me that the entire apartment building had just been bought out by a corporate conglomerate for double its market value.

I had exactly twenty-four hours to pack my shit and get out.

At first, I just thought it was terrible luck. But then the landlord hesitated, lowering her voice over the phone. "Did you piss off some heavy hitters, kid? A girl alone needs to watch her back. I can try to hook you up with another place"

I froze, the phone pressed against my ear. Julian.

The realization clicked into place like a loaded gun.

"Is the demolition being forced through?" I asked quietly. "It's fine. I don't blame you."

It was a rundown pre-war building, slated for a slow redevelopment. If she didn't throw me out onto the street, the corporate sharks would probably bleed her dry in legal fees.

The landlord watched with guilt-ridden eyes as I dragged my suitcases down the steps the next morning. I didn't even flinch. I was starting my Ivy League program in less than a month.

And more importantly, this was the exact turning point where I would meet the man who would actually give me the world.

Chapter 3

I snapped out of my memories. The morning sun was pouring in as I yanked the curtains open, carrying a potted plant out to the balcony to catch the light.

That was when I spotted it. An unfamiliar, sleek Bentley parked directly below my apartment. Almost instantly, the tinted window rolled down, revealing the one face I wanted to see least in this world. Julian stepped out of the driver's seat, looking up at my balcony with a sickening smirk.

The deadbolt slid home with a sharp clack. I spun around, locking every window and yanking the blinds shut. Cold sweat slicked my palms.

If I weren't heavily pregnant, I wouldn't have felt this paralyzing spike of adrenaline. But right now, my flight-or-flight instincts were screaming.

Seconds later, a heavy, rhythmic pounding echoed against my front door.

My fingers shook as I gripped my phone, firing off rapid-fire texts to my husband, Maxwell, detailing what was happening.

[Don't panic. I'm having someone sent to your door right now.]

Maxwell was on a business trip halfway across the globe. He couldn't physically be here, so dispatching his local associate was the only option.

I hated involving anyone else, but I couldn't afford to play the hero right now. I pressed a trembling hand over my swollen belly. The frantic thumping in my chest slowly solidified into a hard, protective resolve.

"Quinn! Open the damn door!" Julian's voice bled through the wood, followed by a violent crash against the frame. He was throwing his entire body weight into it, rattling the hinges as if he planned to tear the deadbolt straight out of the wall.

It made zero sense. He and I were dead and buried three years ago. Why the hell was he stalking my doorstep now? Just to vent his bruised ego and throw his billionaire status in my face?

I stood pressed against the wall, holding my breath for three agonizing minutes until the violent pounding finally stopped, replaced by the muffled sound of voices. I leaned in close to the security monitor.

Parker stood in the hallway, offering a tight, polite smile. "Sir, you're going to need to keep the noise down. There's a pregnant woman living inside."

Parker was one of Maxwell's close associates. My phone continuously vibrated with a steady stream of reassuring texts from my husband. The tight knot in my chest finally loosened. I was just typing out a reply when Julian's voice spiked with raw hostility over the monitor.

"Are you Quinn's husband?"

Parker raised his hands defensively, trying to defuse the situation.

Before he could even get a word out, Julian's fist connected squarely with Parker's jaw.

I ripped the door open and stepped out into the hallway. "Julian! Are you out of your mind?!"

Julian shook out his knuckles, his eyes raking over me with blatant contempt.

"Finally decided to crawl out of your hole? So, this is the pathetic loser you settled for? Average face. Dead-end future."

His gaze dragged back to me, lingering on my maternity clothes with a mocking sneer. "Dressed in actual rags. Tell me, Quinn, are you choking on regret yet for dumping me?"

I dug my nails into my palms, locking down the urge to scream. "You and I are done. Get the hell off my property right now, and apologize to him."

"There's no need, Ma'am," Parker interjected quickly, wiping a drop of blood from the corner of his mouth.

At the word 'Ma'am,' a muscle feathered wildly in Julian's jaw. "Quinn, it looks like you really are just destined to roll around in the dirt with the lower-class."

I stared at him, my expression dead cold. "Julian, I was wrong about you back then."

The hostility in Julian's eyes softened for a fraction of a second, replaced by a smug, victorious smirk.

"You're not just pathetic," I continued, my voice sharp as glass. "You're repulsive. Rotting from the inside out."

"I don't regret dumping you for a single second. My only regret is ever letting a piece of trash like you touch me."

The blood drained from Julian's face. Parker instantly stepped between us, shielding my pregnant frame with his own body. Julian's shoulders went rigid, the tendons in his neck pulling taut as if he was about to physically explode.

That was when the heavy, sour stench of high-end whiskey hit my nose. He had driven here completely trashed.

Julian locked his bloodshot eyes on Parker, stepping aggressively into his personal space. "Move. I owned her long before you even existed."

"Parker."

Parker hesitated, then slowly stepped aside.

I didn't waste a millisecond.

I raised my hand and slapped Julian across the face with everything I had.

The sharp crack echoed loudly in the cramped hallway. Julian's head snapped to the side. He slowly brought a hand to his burning cheek, his eyes wide with disbelief. "You actually hit me?"

"That was for Parker." I crossed my arms over my chest, my tone eerily calm. "And by the way, I called the cops."

Right on cue, heavy boots pounded up the stairwell as two uniformed officers breached the hallway.

I pointed directly at Julian's chest. "Officers! He assaulted my friend, he's harassing a pregnant woman, and he just drove here under the influence!"

Chapter 4

The exact millisecond Julian threw that punch at Parker, my thumb had already hit the emergency speed dial on my screen. It wasn't 911. It was the direct line to the precinct captain at the local station down the block.

The captain was an old high school buddy of Maxwell's. I didn't make a habit of calling the cops unless things escalated.

Raw, undisguised panic bled into Julian's eyes. "She's lying through her teeth!"

The captain's expression was carved from stone. "Save it for the precinct." He shot a look over his shoulder to his partner. "Get the breathalyzer kit up here. We've got a DUI."

Julian thrashed wildly against their grip. "Get your hands off me! Do you have any idea who I am? I'm the heir to the"

"I don't care if the CEO of your little trust fund comes down here himself," the captain cut him off flatly. "You're getting locked up."

Once the heavy steel doors of the elevator closed on Julian's struggling form, the breath I didn't realize I was holding rushed out of my lungs.

The captain turned to me, his tone instantly softening. "Quinn, are you alright? Do you need a paramedic?"

"I'm fine. Just don't tell Maxwell how close he got," I requested quietly. "Tell him Parker handled it before it escalated."

The captain gave me a noncommittal nod, checking in on me for another minute before heading back downstairs. Parker helped me move the rest of my potted plants onto the balcony, then quietly took his leave.

The apartment finally fell silent. I sank onto the sofa and unlocked my phone.

Maxwell's text thread was a wall of frantic green bubbles. He was practically losing his mind. Sighing, I bypassed the texts and dialed his number.

"I'm safe," I promised the second he picked up. "He was just throwing a drunk tantrum. Parker chased him off."

"I'm coming home tonight," Maxwell replied. His voice was frighteningly cold, a low, smooth baritone that barely masked the violent anxiety simmering just beneath the surface.

I blinked in surprise. "Tonight? Won't your boss lose his mind if you bail on the conference?"

"He'll survive. My leave is already approved."

I tried to talk him out of the red-eye flight, but once Maxwell made his mind up, there was no stopping him. I finally relented.

"Don't stay up waiting for me," he ordered softly. "The housekeeper will be there soon to cook dinner. Eat well."

I let a warm smile touch my lips. "I will. I miss you, Maxwell."

A low, rumbling chuckle vibrated through the speaker, instantly melting away the last of my tension. "I know, sweetheart. I miss you too."

The moment the call ended, whatever lingering disgust Julian had tracked onto my doorstep evaporated. I headed into my home office and booted up my laptop to chip away at a grad school report.

The pregnancy had been entirely unplanned. Since I was deep into my third trimester, I had to take a temporary leave of absence from my Ivy League program. Thankfully, my advisor was incredibly supportive.

When those two pink lines first showed up, it scared the absolute living hell out of me. I had originally made up my mind to schedule an abortion. But the second Maxwell pulled up to the clinic doors and gently took my hand, I completely backed out.

I grew up entirely alone in the foster system. The thought of finally having familysomeone who actually shared my bloodsuddenly felt like a lifeline. Maxwell never pushed. He respected every single choice I made, and the moment I decided to keep the baby, he practically bent the world to give me whatever I needed.

I casually mentioned wanting a fully-equipped study; within twelve hours, Maxwell had signed the lease on this gorgeous apartment. The interior design was flawless, flooded with natural sunlight from massive floor-to-ceiling windows.

He was the exact, absolute opposite of Julian. Maxwell wrapped me in this unshakable, quiet security. Just simple, pure happiness.

Barely an hour later, a shaky cell phone video of Julian getting shoved into the back of a police cruiser in handcuffs for felony trespassing and a DUI completely blew up the Twitter trends.

Aspen immediately launched into full-blown crisis mode on Instagram Live, sobbing hysterically to her millions of followers.

[Julian and I got into a massive fight last night. This is all my fault! If I hadn't pushed him away, he never would have gone out drinking. If you guys want to tear someone apart in the comments, please just blame me. I'm begging you!]

Her pathetic performance worked like a charm. Their rabid shippers instantly flooded the comments, filling in the blanks with some twisted, romanticized narrative about how deep their love was.

I scrolled past the video and let out a cold scoff. What a complete joke of a relationship. I wondered if their psychotic fans would still be swooning if his drunk driving had actually slaughtered an innocent family on the freeway.

True to his word, Maxwell walked through the door late that night. I was half-asleep, tangled in the duvet, when the mattress dipped and a warm, familiar pair of lips pressed gently against my forehead. My eyes fluttered open instantly.

Maxwell hovered over me, guilt flashing across his sharp, handsome features. "Did I wake you?"

I shook my head, instantly wrapping my arms tightly around his neck. "I missed you."

"I'm so sorry, Quinn," he whispered, burying his face into the crook of my neck. "I never should have left you here alone."

He had literally been gone for less than forty-eight hours. His intense protectiveness sent a sudden, embarrassed flush to my cheeks.

Right at that moment, his phone vibrated violently against the nightstand. A fleeting, dangerous shadow of disgust crossed Maxwell's eyes. He blindly hit decline, but the caller instantly dialed back, relentless.

Figuring it was some corporate emergency from his boss, I gently nudged his chest. "Take it. Deal with work, then come right back to bed."

Maxwell offered a soft smile, gently brushing a stray lock of hair behind my ear before grabbing his phone and stepping out onto the dark balcony.

Driven by some weird, unexplainable instinct, I quietly slipped out of bed and followed him. Maxwell never hid anything from me; he hadn't even bothered to slide the glass door fully shut.

The night air was dead silent. I froze in my tracks as a very familiar, desperately whining voice spilled out from the phone's speaker.

It was Julian.

"Uncle Maxwell, you have to bail me out of this. My dad is literally going to murder me."

Chapter 5