Semua Bab Claimed by My Ex’s Uncle: Bab 1 - Bab 10

Chapter 2: The Wicked BargainThe air in the room instantly vanished.My heart slammed against my ribs so violently I was sure he could hear it. Julian Vance. The legendary, reclusive titan of the Vance empire. The man who made wall street bankers weep and brought multinational corporations to their knees.And the man whose silver-gray eyes had stared down into mine in the shadows of an underground bar while his hands mapped every inch of my bare skin."You're... Marcus’s uncle," I breathed, my voice barely a raspy whisper. Every instinct in my body screamed at me to step back, but my legs felt glued to the plush carpet.Julian didn't back away. If anything, he leaned closer, his warm, sandalwood-scented breath caressing the sensitive skin right beneath my ear."Fiancé’s uncle, Elena," he corrected smoothly, his deep baritone vibrating through my blood like a low frequency. "Or should I say ex-fiancé?"My eyes snapped to his. "You know?"Julian let out a quiet, dark laugh. He straight

Chapter 4: The Golden CageMy heart beat against my ribs like a trapped drum.The heavy mahogany doors were shut tight, locking out the rest of the world and leaving me alone in the suffocatingly large office with Julian Vance. The silence in the room was almost heavy, broken only by the quiet hum of the air conditioning eighty floors above the city.Julian didn't rush toward me. He moved with the slow, deliberate confidence of a man who already knew he had won. Every step he took across the marble floor was measured, his silver eyes locked onto mine without flinching."You handled yourself well," he said smoothly, stopping just a foot away. The subtle scent of sandalwood and warm cedar drifted off him, wrapping around my senses like a spell. "Most people tremble when Marcus throws a tantrum.""Marcus is a boy playing with his father’s money," I replied, forcing my voice to stay even, though my hands were cold. "You’re the one running the kingdom."A faint, slow smile tugged at the co

Claimed by My Ex’s UncleChapter 6: A Cold Room and Hot SkinThe silence inside the private penthouse elevator was deafening.The penthouse at the top of the Vance Tower was built like a fortress. Black marble, floor-to-ceiling glass looking out over the glowing grid of Manhattan, and a heavy, suffocating air of absolute wealth.I stood near the corner of the elevator, my heels aching, the deep crimson silk of my dress rustling softly every time I shifted my weight. Julian stood near the control panel, his hand casually resting in the pocket of his tailored trousers. He had tossed his bow tie onto the leather seat of the Maybach twenty minutes ago, leaving the top two buttons of his crisp white dress shirt undone.He didn't speak. He didn't have to. The silver glint in his eyes whenever his gaze tracked the movement of my pulse point spoke loud enough.Ding.The elevator doors slid open directly into the private foyer of his apartment."Your room is down the east hall," Julian said, h

Claimed by My Ex’s UncleChapter 8: The GuillotineThe executive boardroom on the 80th floor felt like an execution chamber.Ten board members in dark suits sat along the mahogany table, whispering like vultures over a carcass. At the head of the table stood Marcus, holding a stack of printed financial ledgers. His cheeks were flushed, his tie slightly askew, and a frantic, manic energy vibrated off him. He looked like a man who had backed himself into a corner and decided his only way out was to pull the pin on a grenade.When the double doors swung open and Julian walked in, the room went instantly dead quiet.Julian didn't rush. He moved with the terrifying, effortless posture of a king entering a courtroom he already owned. I walked three steps behind him, my heels clicking sharply against the polished marble, keeping my shoulders back and my face locked into a cold mask."Julian," Marcus blurted out, his voice a fraction too loud, cracking under the strain. "Thank you for joining

Claimed by My Ex’s UncleChapter 10: The Midnight ChaseThe air in the private executive suite on the seventy-second floor didn't just feel still; it felt pressurized, like the glass walls were holding back a storm that had spent hours threatening to tear the city apart.Elena sat at the edge of the mahogany desk, the heels of her shoes hooked over the lower wooden rung. Her fingers were still slightly numb from the sheer adrenaline of the last three hours, but her breath had finally slowed into a steady, deliberate rhythm. Below them, through the floor-to-ceiling glass, the evening grid of the financial district looked like a sprawling, glowing circuit board.Behind her, the sharp, rhythmic click of a fountain pen capped and uncapped was the only sound breaking the silence.Julian didn't look like a man who had just dismantled a board of directors, systematically destroyed his nephew’s reputation, and signed off on a series of asset freezes that would effectively wipe Marcus off the