Married To My Ex's Ruthless Uncle

Audriana's heart fluttered wildly against her ribs. She watched a waiter walk by with a silver tray of wedding favors—small, velvet boxes of artisan chocolates.

She reached out and grabbed two boxes.

She spotted Eston propped against a marble pillar near the french doors, his aluminum crutches jammed under his armpits, a napkin pressed to his bleeding lip. His right leg hung uselessly in the heavy medical brace, the toe of his shoe barely grazing the floor. His crutch tips were planted wide to keep him upright, and even from across the room she could see his knuckles were white from gripping the handles. His eyes were fixed on her, burning with humiliation. Audriana adjusted her posture and walked straight toward him. Her heels clicked sharply against the floor.

Ellwood didn't stop her. He stood back, taking a sip of his bourbon, watching her with dark, amused eyes.

Audriana stopped right in front of Eston. She shoved the velvet boxes into his chest. He fumbled, one hand releasing its death grip on the crutch handle just long enough to trap the boxes against his sternum before they fell. "Have some wedding candy, nephew. It's sweet."

Eston looked like he wanted to vomit. His hands shook as he held the boxes. He glanced past her shoulder, saw Ellwood watching, and swallowed his rage.

Audriana leaned in close. "If you ever come near me again, I won't need him to break your leg. I will do it myself."

Eston's face turned gray. He couldn't say a word.

Audriana turned around and walked back to Ellwood. Her chest rose and fell rapidly. A rush of pure, vindictive adrenaline pumped through her veins.

Ellwood picked up a pink macaron from a dessert table and handed it to her. "Like a kitten showing her claws," he murmured, his voice low and teasing.

Audriana's ears burned. She took the cookie, avoiding his gaze.

The head butler approached them, bowing slightly. "Mr. Maxwell. Your father requests your presence in the upstairs study."

Ellwood's jaw tightened. The playful mood vanished instantly. He looked at Audriana. "Stay in the crowd. Do not wander off."

He followed the butler up the stairs.

Upstairs, the heavy study doors closed behind Ellwood.

Prescott Maxwell sat in a leather wheelchair behind a massive desk. He threw a manila folder onto the wood.

"Explain this," Prescott demanded, his voice raspy. "You marry a bankrupt girl out of nowhere?"

Ellwood walked to the window, looking down at the ballroom floor. "It was a business acquisition."

Prescott let out a harsh, mocking laugh. "Don't lie to me, boy. I saw the photos. I saw her eyes. Her eyes remind me of some very unpleasant memories. Ellwood, do not stumble over the same mistake twice. You know exactly who I am talking about."

Ellwood froze. The silver lighter in his hand slipped, clattering loudly onto the windowsill. The temperature in the room plummeted to freezing.

He turned around. His eyes were pitch black, filled with a violent, suppressed rage. "Do not cross that line, old man. My marriage is mine."

Prescott sighed, rubbing his temples. "The past is gone, Ellwood. Do not ruin an innocent girl's life just because you need a ghost to hold onto."

Ellwood didn't answer. He turned on his heel and walked out, slamming the door so hard the walls shook.

Downstairs, Audriana was looking out the window when she heard footsteps. Frances was walking toward her, holding a full glass of red wine. Her eyes were fixed on the fabric of Audriana's black silk gown.

Frances feigned a sudden stumble, her wrist flicking forward intentionally to send the full glass of red wine flying directly at the skirt of Audriana's pristine black gown. Audriana saw it coming. In a split second, she pivoted sharply to the left, stepping completely out of the trajectory. Frances lost her balance and stumbled forward, but the dark red liquid sailed past Audriana, splashing violently all over the expensive cream Chanel suit of a wealthy socialite standing just behind her. Audriana glanced down. The dark wine had missed her entirely. A flicker of grim satisfaction crossed her face—black fabric hid a multitude of sins. Frances had miscalculated.

The woman shrieked. Chaos erupted. Frances scrambled to apologize, her face bright red with embarrassment.

Audriana didn't stay to watch. She slipped through the French doors and stepped out into the cool night air of the gardens.

The garden was dimly lit by small ground lamps. The heavy scent of blooming roses filled the air. Audriana walked toward the large stone fountain. Her feet were killing her. She kicked off her high heels, letting her bare feet touch the cold stone edge of the fountain. She let out a long breath.

A metallic scraping sound echoed behind her. Crutch tips dragging across the stone pathway.

Audriana spun around.

A tall shadow lurched out from behind the thick rose bushes. The overwhelming stench of cheap whiskey hit her face.

Eston stood there. His weight was braced on his crutches, his shattered leg dangling limp in the heavy brace, the toe of his shoe scraping uselessly against the ground. He heaved himself forward another step, the crutches grinding against the stone as he swung his useless leg between them, blocking her only path back to the house.