All Chapters of His Dirty Little Niece: (Uncle X, I want you): Chapter 101 - Chapter 110

172 Chapters

Chapter 101: Surprise.

Aurora's POV A knock sounded on the door of our small university accommodation on a perfectly ordinary Tuesday afternoon. I was halfway through highlighting a textbook passage, hair in a messy bun, wearing an oversized sweater that definitely belonged to Xavier from one of our stolen nights months ago. Isla was in the kitchen humming off-key while making coffee. “Probably the neighbor again,” I called out lazily. “Can you get it? I’m in the middle of—” The knock came again, firmer. Insistent. I sighed, set my highlighter down, and padded to the door in my socks. I turned the handle and opened it. And froze. Xavier stood there in the hallway, tall and devastating in a dark coat, eyes locked on mine like he had crossed oceans just to stand in this exact spot. No warning. No text. No call. Just him—here—on a random Tuesday. My mouth opened but no words came out. I stared, heart slamming against my ribs so hard I thought he could hear it. Isla appeared behind me, wiping her hands

Chapter 102: Six Months.

Xavier's POV “I still can’t believe you actually came all this way for me,” Aurora whispered, her breath warm against my neck as we lay tangled together that first night. Her fingers traced lazy circles over my bare chest, nails lightly scraping my skin. I pulled her closer, my hand sliding down to cup her perfect ass. “I told you I would. Three whole days, baby. No hiding, no cameras, no bullshit. Just you and me finally fucking like we’ve both been dying to for six months.” She let out a soft, needy laugh and kissed my collarbone. “God, I’ve missed your dirty mouth almost as much as your cock.” --- Those three days were everything we’d been starving for. We talked for hours over coffee and wine—about the insane year behind us, the fights, the almost-breakups, and what the hell came after the contract ended. We walked hand-in-hand through streets where no one knew our faces, stealing kisses whenever we wanted. But mostly, we fucked. Slow and sweet. Hard and desperate. Again and

Chapter 103: Coming Home.

Aurora's POVThe car rolled through the familiar iron gates of the estate, and for the first time in six months, something tight in my chest finally loosened. Home. Scotland had been all misty hills and stubborn independence, but this—this sprawling stone fortress with its perfectly manicured lawns and the faint scent of pine from the surrounding woods—was still the place that held my roots. I glanced over at Xavier in the driver’s seat, his hands steady on the wheel, that same commanding presence that had both protected and suffocated me for years. I was happy to be back. Truly. But Scotland had changed me in ways I hadn’t fully admitted until this moment. Six months away from his constant decisions, his quiet assumptions that he knew best, had taught me I could breathe on my own. I didn’t want to slip back into the old pattern like it was a well-worn coat.The car stopped smoothly in the circular drive. Before I could even reach for my door handle, Xavier was out, rounding the fron

Chapter 104: Willow Crest.

Aurora's POV Morning light filtered through the lace curtains of my bedroom, casting delicate patterns across the duvet like a hesitant apology. I hadn’t slept much. The laptop screen had become my new obsession, its glow the only companion through the long hours after midnight. Willow Crest. The name looped in my mind like a half-forgotten melody, pulling at threads I thought had been neatly tied off years ago. I sat cross-legged on the bed, hair piled messily on top of my head, surrounded by empty coffee mugs and scattered notes. Scotland had sharpened something in me—this restless need to dig, to question, to refuse the neatly packaged version of my life Xavier had always handed me. Back then, I’d accepted his explanations with the quiet gratitude of a girl who’d lost everything. Now? Not so much. Search after search revealed the same frustrating gaps. Property records for 14 Willow Crest showed my father as the last listed owner. No transfer documents. No sale records after the

Chapter 105: My Father's Name.

Aurora's POV Denial crashed over me first, hot and insistent, like a wave trying to drag me back to safer shores. This couldn’t be real. I refreshed the page, then opened three more tabs, cross-referencing every archived record I could find. Daniel Hayes. There he was again—in the early incorporation documents, in shareholder resolutions from the company’s first volatile years, even in a scanned board meeting summary where his name sat right beside Xavier’s. My stomach twisted. I had spent my entire life believing Xavier had built Griffins Enterprises alone, the self-made empire everyone praised in interviews and glossy profiles. Yet here was proof my father had been woven into its foundation all along. “Isla, look at this,” I said, tilting my laptop screen toward the camera on our video call. Her face filled the small window, eyebrows furrowed in concentration as she sipped from a mug back in her apartment. “It’s everywhere. Daniel Hayes. Not some random investor—repeatedly. Why ha

Chapter 106: Twenty-Five Percent.

Aurora's POVI read the agreement until the words blurred. Twenty-five percent. The clause was written in crisp, formal legalese, but it might as well have been carved in stone: Upon the death of Daniel Hayes, his full ownership interest shall transfer to his legal heir(s) in accordance with applicable estate laws. My thumb traced the signatures at the bottom—my father’s bold, slanted hand next to Xavier’s more controlled one. I had stared at old photos of that signature a hundred times, but seeing it here, binding him to the empire I thought belonged solely to my uncle, cracked something open inside me.My phone buzzed. Isla’s face appeared on the screen again. I answered immediately, voice barely above a whisper.“Isla… it’s worse than we thought.”“Slow down,” she said, concern sharpening her tone. “What did you find?”I lifted the laptop closer. “The attachment. It’s a founding shareholders’ agreement. My father owned twenty-five percent outright. It was supposed to come to me. Me

Chapter 107: The Trustee.

Xavier's POV The door to my office clicked shut behind me with a finality that did little to calm the storm brewing in my chest. The grandfather clock in the hall had struck ten, but sleep was a distant luxury. I poured two fingers of scotch into a crystal glass, the amber liquid catching the lamplight, and dropped into the leather chair behind my desk. The printed agreement still burned in my mind—Aurora’s face when she’d confronted me, that mix of betrayal and steel I’d watched harden since her return from Scotland. I dialed Steve before I could second-guess myself. He answered on the first ring, as always. “Xavier. I assume this is about the documents.” “How the hell did someone access Daniel’s old corporate agreement?” I demanded, voice low but edged with fury. “That was supposed to be sealed. Archived. Inaccessible without my direct authorization.” Steve exhaled, the sound of keyboard clicks faint in the background. “It was pulled from the sealed archive, sir. The physical o

Chapter 108: My Own Lawyer.

Aurora's POVDawn crept through the tall windows of my bedroom like a hesitant intruder, painting the walls in soft golds and pinks that felt entirely at odds with the turmoil churning inside me. Sleep had been elusive, a restless tangle of half-formed suspicions and fragmented memories. By the time the first light touched the horizon, I was already dressed in simple jeans and a sweater, slipping out of the mansion before the staff began their morning routines and, more importantly, before Xavier could intercept me.I drove myself—something I had insisted on learning during my time in Scotland—and navigated the quiet streets toward the city. The independent corporate lawyer, Elena Vasquez, had agreed to an early meeting at her sleek downtown office. No connections to Griffins Enterprises. No history with Xavier. Just cold, professional distance.Elena was waiting when I arrived, her conference room table already spread with printed copies of the documents I had sent. She was in her mi

Chapter 109: I Am Leaving.

Aurora's POV The words “Then I think I need to move out” still echoed in the library like a gunshot. I didn’t wait for Xavier’s response. I turned on my heel and walked upstairs, my footsteps deliberate on the polished marble, each step carrying the weight of every secret, every withheld truth, and every moment I had trusted him without question. The mansion, once a sanctuary of warmth and stability, now felt suffocating—its high ceilings and elegant furnishings closing in like the bars of a beautiful cage. I pushed open the door to my bedroom and headed straight for the walk-in closet. Suitcases I hadn’t touched since Scotland waited on the top shelf. I dragged two of them down, the wheels rattling loudly against the hardwood floor, and began pulling clothes from hangers with mechanical efficiency. Silks, cashmeres, and tailored pieces I had once worn to Griffins events landed in careless heaps. I didn’t care about folding. I just needed to move, to act, before doubt could creep in

Chapter 110: Arthur Bell.

Aurora's POV My heart hammered against my ribs like a caged bird desperate for escape. The elderly man’s words echoed through the intercom, each syllable landing with the force of a revelation I both craved and feared. Tell Aurora Hayes I worked for her father, and Xavier Griffins has lied to her for fourteen years. The serviced apartment, which had felt like a neutral sanctuary only moments ago, now seemed exposed and vulnerable. City lights twinkled beyond the floor-to-ceiling windows, but inside, the air grew thick with tension. Isla’s voice crackled urgently through my phone. “Aurora, do not open that door. This screams trap. Hang up with me and call the police right now.” I hesitated, eyes fixed on the security screen. The man stood patiently in the hallway, his posture straight but not rigid, the brown envelope held loosely in weathered hands. There was something about his face—the quiet resolve in his eyes—that tugged at half-buried memories from my childhood. Still, caut

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