Your Uncle, My True Love

“Harry…” Emma’s voice trembled, breaking with disbelief. “What are you doing with Sophie? You two…?”

While the guests were still lost in the soft rhythm of jazz music, Emma had slipped out to the garden behind the villa for some fresh air.

The cool night breeze should have soothed her, yet tonight it felt suffocating. Her steps were light, but her heart was beating far too fast.

Perhaps her newest gown was a little too tight… or perhaps it was that unease she had felt since afternoon — a strange premonition she couldn’t shake off.

And there — that was where she found the sight that would change her life forever.

Harry.

Her husband.

Standing far too close to Sophie, the young woman who had been her personal assistant.

Sophie, who always greeted her with that sweet smile.

Sophie, who always stood by her side, always eager to help.

Sophie — whom Emma had trusted like a friend.

Their lips were pressed together — intimate, tender — as if the world had stopped spinning just for them.

Beneath the pale glow of the moon, Harry and Sophie looked like lovers lost in their own passion.

Emma froze. For a fleeting moment, she prayed her eyes were deceiving her, that this was merely a nightmare from which she would soon wake.

But the smudge of Sophie’s red lipstick staining Harry’s mouth erased every hope of denial.

Tonight was supposed to be a night of joy — the celebration of Emma Taylor and Harry Smith’s third wedding anniversary.

Guests in elegant evening gowns and tailored suits sipped champagne, exchanging polite smiles, basking in the luxury of the Smith family’s grand party.

The villa had been transformed into a dream garden, adorned with fresh blooms and shimmering lights — all to celebrate the love between Emma and Harry.

As a renowned fashion designer, Emma was always the center of attention.

Tonight, she wore one of her own creations — a champagne-colored gown embellished with intricate beading.

Her hair was styled perfectly, framing her beautiful, refined face.

But behind the smile she showed to the crowd, her heart longed for something she had never truly received — the warmth of a husband’s love.

Harry Smith.

The charming man she had married.

In public, he was flawless — charismatic, respected, the heir to a successful family business.

His smile could melt any woman’s heart.

But Emma knew better. The distance between them had grown wider with time, an invisible wall built by their separate ambitions, eroding the passion they once shared.

Harry froze, stepping back from Sophie, guilt written all over his face.

“Emma, this… this isn’t what it looks like. Sophie and I were just—”

“Enough, Harry!” Emma’s voice cracked as her eyes glistened with unshed tears.

“I don’t need your explanation. And you, Sophie—” she turned sharply toward the younger woman, “you’re fired. Effective immediately.”

Instead of guilt, a mocking smile curved Sophie’s lips — a smile that sent chills down Emma’s spine.

She stepped forward gracefully, as if victory already belonged to her.

Under the moonlight, her crimson dress looked even more provocative.

“I don’t care if I’m fired,” she said coldly, her voice sharp as glass. “Because Mr. Harry is mine now. I don’t need to work for a stubborn woman like you, Emma Taylor. I already have the man you’ve been flaunting in front of me all this time.”

“Sophie, stop talking!” Harry hissed, grabbing her arm in an attempt to stop her, but she jerked it away violently.

“Oh, please, Harry. Don’t pretend.” Sophie’s tone turned venomous. “You still remember that night — our one night together — the night that drove you crazy for me. Tell me, hasn’t Emma ever been able to satisfy you the way I did?”

The words struck like a whip. Gasps rose among the guests, and then silence — thick, suffocating.

The sharp crack of a slap shattered the air. Sophie’s head snapped to the side, her cheek burning red.

The crowd fell completely silent. The sound of that slap echoed through the garden, breaking the stillness of the night.

Emma stood trembling, breath unsteady, her hands clenched into fists to keep from doing more.

Anger, pain, humiliation — all warred inside her.

“All right then, if that’s what you want, Harry…” Emma’s voice rose, carrying across the garden.

Tears finally streamed down her face. “Since you’ve been cheating on me with my own assistant — then let’s get a divorce!”

Whispers spread like wildfire through the guests.

The name Emma Taylor, once synonymous with elegance and prestige, was now tangled in scandal and disgrace.

Her reputation as a celebrated designer lay shattered before everyone’s eyes.

Harry went silent for a moment — then his expression hardened.

He stepped forward, eyes blazing with fury and resentment.

“How dare you say that in front of everyone? Fine! Let’s get divorced, Emma!” he shouted, his voice echoing across the courtyard.

“You’ve always been too proud as a wife. You never had time for me — you wouldn’t even give me a child! Go on, live in your perfect little world. Compared to you, Sophie is far better. From this night on, we’re done!”

The words pierced Emma’s heart like a blade.

Everything she had built over three years crumbled in an instant.

The marriage she thought was happy was nothing but an illusion.

The love she thought eternal was just a performance.

Before she could even respond, a deep voice thundered from the villa doorway — a voice filled with authority and fury, silencing the crowd.

“Harry Smith… what did you just say to your wife?”

The entire garden fell still.

All eyes turned toward the source of the voice.

Emma’s face drained of color — she recognized that voice.

A voice she hadn’t heard in years.

A voice that always made her uneasy.

It wasn’t just anyone’s voice.

It belonged to someone she had long tried to avoid — a man with great influence in the Smith family.

A man who carried his own dark secrets from the past.

And now, that man stood before them, anger radiating from every step he took.

Under the moonlight, his sharp features were cast in shadow and authority.

James Walker.

Harry Smith’s uncle.