In Revenge, I Married My Ex-Fiancé’s Uncle

Avery's POV

The tenderness in Stanley’s eyes was gone. All that was left was disgust.

“Apologize? To her?” I sneered. “You really think she deserves it?”

I lifted my chin stubbornly, but inside, my heart was shattering into pieces.

His expression grew darker as his words turned colder than ice. “If you don’t apologize today, then forget about the marriage.”

The office collectively gasped. Heads poked out from behind cubicle walls, everyone eager to witness the drama.

It wasn’t the first time Stanley had said something like this. He always said it for Darlene’s sake. And every time, I gave in.

We’d been together for ten years. Stanley was the one I’d chosen since childhood. I’d spent half my life dreaming about marrying him.

But now that dream was in pieces, and I couldn’t ignore it any longer.

“Fine,” I said evenly. “Then let’s not.”

His hand froze mid-air, surprise flickering in his dark eyes.

Before he could say anything else, I turned and walked out of the office.

Behind me, I heard Darlene’s soft, pitiful voice, urging, “Mr. Haynes, you should go after her, comfort her. I’ll be fine…”

But then his reply was careless and dismissive. “There’s nothing to comfort. She’ll regret it in less than three days.”

I drew in a sharp breath, forcing the tears back down.

What he didn't know was that this time, I wouldn’t regret it.

In fact, I was already ready to change grooms.

Wasn't it just getting married? Whoever I married, it would still be a marriage.

That very night, Darlene’s post with a caption, [Guess who just graduated and already found the best boss ever?] blew up.

The post also came with photos of their dinner at a Michelin-starred restaurant, a brand-new luxury phone, a screenshot of a bank transfer amounting to a hundred and eighty grand, and Stanley himself, smiling as he offered her a perfectly cut slice of steak.

As I stared at those pictures over and over, my stomach twisted tighter each time.

Ten years together, and he had never bought me a single gift. Not even a small transfer of money.

His excuse was always: “What’s mine is yours. No need to keep transferring back and forth.”

Yet now, with her, his generosity flowed without hesitation, spending hundreds of thousands just like that.

Whenever we ate out, he’d sit back like a king, waiting for me to handle everything before he’d even lift a fork.

He’d also never agreed to take a picture with me. Not even for our wedding portraits.

But Darlene had all of it effortlessly. Everything I’d wanted, everything I’d begged for, she had without lifting a finger.

My vision blurred, and the tears finally spilled over.

Just then, the doorbell rang.

When I opened it, a deliveryman stood there.

“Hello, Ma'am! I’m here to deliver the wedding portraits.”

Confused, I frowned. “I never took wedding portraits.”

“Impossible. This is Mr. Stanley’s residence, right?”

I nodded. He double-checked, then insisted he hadn’t made a mistake. Soon, several large boxes were carried inside.

When he left, I opened one with trembling hands.

Inside were wedding photos of Stanley and Darlene.

They were wearing eight full outfits in eight different settings. And in every one, he was smiling at her in ways he’d never smiled at me.

Each photo pierced me like a needle.

And just as I lifted my gaze, there they were, standing in the doorway.

Stanley had his arm wrapped around her as he ordered, “Give me a hand. She’s drunk.”

He ordered me around as if it were the most natural thing in the world, as if our fight earlier had never happened.

So I didn’t move. Instead, I pointed at the stack of boxes behind me.

“You’ve got five minutes to clear out this trash,” I said coldly. “Including her.”

Darlene, her face flushed from alcohol, clung to his chest with a wounded look.

“There’s no need to be so harsh,” Stanley scolded. “Those portraits were for her mother. Before she passed away, her only wish was to see her daughter get married.”