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2026-07-05 03:15:44
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Mr Ex, Call me your uncle's wife now. 48
Vivian's POVThe tension in the room shifted the moment Ethan entered. Derek straightened like a soldier caught off guard, his bravado crumbling just a little. Charlotte's smile turned brittle, her fingers tightening around her handbag like it was a lifeline."Uncle Ethan," Derek said, forcing an easy tone that didn't quite reach his eyes. "We were just inviting Vivian to the wedding."Ethan didn't acknowledge the pleasantry. He crossed the room with measured steps, his hand finding the small of my back. The touch was possessive, deliberate."She won't be attending," he said flatly.Derek's jaw tightened. "That's Vivian's decision to make, don't you think?""And I know what my wife wants." Ethan's voice was ice. "I don't want her anywhere near you. And I don't appreciate you showing up at my home uninvited."Charlotte stepped forward, her voice honeyed and sweet, the kind of tone she probably practiced in the mirror. "Uncle Ethan, we meant no disrespect. We just wanted to extend the i
Mr Ex, Call me your uncle's wife now. 47
Vivian's POVThe morning light filtered through the curtains, soft and golden, painting the bedroom in warm hues. I lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, the memory of the rose petal still fresh in my mind. I'd tucked it into the drawer of my nightstand, a silent reminder that something was happening in this house that I didn't understand.I'd barely slept. Every creak of the estate had set my heart racing, every shadow in the corner of my vision making me freeze. But nothing had come. No more strange petals, no whispers in the dark. Just the oppressive silence of a house holding its breath.I forced myself out of bed, had a warm refreshing bath and dressed in a simple cream blouse and tailored trousers. I needed to feel put together, even if I didn't feel it inside. I made my way downstairs, the scent of fresh coffee drawing me toward the kitchen.I was halfway through my first cup when the doorbell chimed.I frowned, setting down my mug. Visitors were rare at the estate, and unannounc
Mr Ex, Call me your uncle's wife now. 46
Vivian's POVThe drive back to the estate was a blur of rain and tangled thoughts. I stared out the window, watching the rain streak down the glass, and tried to process it all. By the time Marcus pulled through the estate gates, the sky had darkened to a bruised purple, the last light of day fading fast. I climbed out of the car. The front door swung open before I could reach for the handle, and I stopped dead in my tracks.The foyer was transformed.Soft candlelight flickered from every surface, casting warm golden shadows across the marble floors. The chandelier had been dimmed, replaced by the gentle glow of dozens of candles arranged in elegant clusters. The air was thick with the scent of jasmine and vanilla, delicate and soothing, wrapping around me like a warm embrace.And in the dining room, visible through the open archway, a table was set for one.I blinked, certain I was hallucinating. The table was draped in white linen, set with the finest china I'd ever seen, gold-rimm
Mr Ex, Call me your uncle's wife now. 45
Vivian's POVThe drive back to the estate was a blur of buildings and tangled thoughts.I sat in the back of the car, the file clutched against my chest like a shield, and watched the city slide past the window. The rain had started to fall, fat droplets streaking across the glass, blurring the world outside into a smear of muted colors. My father's face kept flashing through my mind… the way his jaw had tightened, the way his eyes had flickered with something almost like guilt before he'd looked away. He knew. He knew what Sandra was doing, and he was letting it happen.I should have been used to it by now. Years of being pushed aside, of watching him choose his mistress and her daughter over us, had taught me not to expect anything from him. But somehow, it still stung. It still cut deep, that quiet, familiar ache of knowing your own father didn't love you enough to fight for you. It was a wound that never quite healed, always sitting just beneath the surface, waiting to be reopened
Mr Ex, Call me your uncle's wife now. 44
Vivian's POVTwo weeks had passed since the acid attack.The burn on my back had healed into a pink, puckered patch of new skin, tender but no longer painful. Dr. Lena had given me a clean bill of health during my last visit, though she'd reminded me to keep applying the scar cream twice daily. The physical wound was closing, but the memory of that night lingered like a shadow I couldn't shake.I'd spent those two weeks in a strange limbo, floating between the estate and the hospital, watching my mother fade a little more each day. The doctors had stopped talking about treatments and started talking about comfort. About making her final days as peaceful as possible. Every visit felt like a goodbye, every squeeze of her hand a silent plea for more time that neither of us had. But I couldn't give up, not now. I had to make sure my mom gets better, no matter what it takes. And I also couldn't afford to fall apart. Not when there was still so much to fight for.The call came on a Tuesday
Mr Ex, Call me your uncle's wife now. 43
Vivian's POVI jolted, my heart leaping into my throat.I spun around, my hand pressed against my chest, and found myself face-to-face with an older man in a crisp black suit. He was tall and thin, with silver-streaked hair and a weathered face that spoke of years of service. His expression was neutral, polite, but there was a sharpness in his eyes that made me uneasy."I'm sorry, ma'am," he said, his voice smooth and measured. "I didn't mean to startle you. I was passing by and saw you standing here. Is there something I can help you with?"I forced a smile, trying to calm my racing heart. "No, I was just... exploring. I haven't had a chance to see this part of the house yet.""Ah, of course." He nodded, his eyes flicking briefly to the locked door behind me. "This is the west wing. It's mostly used for storage now. Nothing of interest, I'm afraid.""Oh, I see," I said, glancing back at the door. "What do you store in there?""Old furniture, documents, things that Mr. Blackwell hasn'
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