Uncle Jonas Novels & Stories

Sigrid felt more and more certain that this was Jonason! Tianna watched from beside her and said, "Uncle Jonason is so handsome!" Sigrid asked, "You also think that this is Uncle Jonason and not Uncle Christin, isn't it?" Tianna nodded. "That's because Uncle Jonason doesn't like to smile, but Uncle Christin likes to smile." As soon as Tianna finished speaking, the man on the screen smiled and said, "Good evening, everyone!" Tianna frowned slightly. "This time, it's Uncle Christin."

“It’s because we are siblings and not a married couple.” Joshua stood up abruptly. “I don’t believe you,” he shouted. “You are playing a prank on me. Mum… dad is kidding, right? Aunt Tricia?” My heart shattered. “No,” I said softly, walking closer. “Uncle Donald isn’t kidding. He’s your uncle, not your dad. We are siblings.” Joshua stared at me like I had just betrayed him. “You’re my uncle?” he whispered to Donald. “Not father? But I’ve been calling you dad, not uncle.”

“But you heard the old man. He got this. Five years is not a long wait, and I’m sure he can do it earlier than five years.” “I hear you, Janna. Who’s old here?” Uncle asked, feigning a scowl on his face. I giggled together with the females as we all pointed our fingers at him and said, “You...” It was a joke that Dad started, as Uncle Jake was the oldest among everyone. Technically, he was just two years older than Dad and Uncle Gavin, but they still wanted to point that out. “Me?” He pointed a finger at his chest. “Tell them, princess, how young I am and how young I make you feel.” He smirked before winking at Aunt Clair, who was giggling softly, her cheeks turning scarlet.

"Uncle Matt, yes, I will marry you." I lay on the hospital bed, phone pressed to my ear, my other hand limp at my side as my vacant eyes lingered on the bloodstained bandages around my wrist. How many times had I tried to end my life? I could no longer remember. All I knew was that whenever the waves of despair came crashing down, I felt no desire to keep on living. On the other end of the line, Matt Harlem corrected me, "Audrey, I am John's uncle, not yours. You should call me 'Matt.' Or, 'honey'."

A few quiet moments passed before she answered. “My mom… and Uncle Pedring. Well, before. Now it’s just me.” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “Your uncle? Where is he now?” So many questions… “He… he went back to the province to be with his wife and kids. He only stayed here before because Mom needed someone with her 24/7 when she got sick. I couldn’t do it myself—I had to work and study at the same time. And Mom didn’t want me quitting school either. She said it would’ve been a waste, especially since Carl helped me with my scholarship… which I now know actually came from you.”

When he opened them, the fire was smothered in ice. “Because nothing is the same now,” he said firmly. “Your mother mar­ried into my family. I am your step-uncle. That makes this wrong.” The word struck me as though it was a stone, tugging at the part of me that had attempted—God, I’d attempted—to feel sick about this. To hate myself for it.

I jerked my arm hard, trying to break free, but his grip was ironclad. Samuel stepped forward, a swift shove to Mason’s chest. “Let her go.” Mason stumbled back, confusion flashing across his face. “What the hell, Uncle Samuel? Why are you—” “Cause she’s mine,” Samuel said calmly, staring down at his nephew.

“I want to use this opportunity to apologize for what my younger son did to your daughter. I am sorry for my daughter’s bad behavior.” “It’s fine, Mr. Jones. All that matters is that the problem has been solved and we are all here for the wedding.” “Yes, that’s true.” “Greetings, Uncle,” Jonathan said as he walked toward Mr. Jones and gave him a hug. “Greetings, my son. You know you need to stop calling me uncle because you are about to marry my daughter. Why don’t you call me father instead?” Mr. Jones said. “Greetings, Father,” Jonathan said. “Good boy. From today onward, you are the son I never had, and I am happy to welcome you into my family.”

"Who is that?" Nathan glanced up, as if the answer were obvious. "Oh. That's my uncle." Uncle. The word hit like ice water. "Adrian Carter," he continued, oblivious to the way my pulse had spiked. "He doesn't stay here often. He runs most of the Carter Group now." My heart stopped. Adrian Carter. Uncle. Carter Group. The man from last night—the man whose marks were still burning beneath my clothes. Adrian's gaze never left me as he approached the table, slowly, deliberately. He took the seat at the very edge, not at the head, but positioned in a way that let him see everything. Especially me. A faint smirk touched his lips, and I felt exposed.

“Anything pressing I need to know?” Jonas straightened up. “Regarding the old Patriarch’s 70th birthday celebration coming up soon, the occasion is exceptionally high-profile, so preparations have been extensive and all logistics are almost finalized. Even the banquet seating chart has been locked in...” Finnick raised an eyebrow through the drifting smoke, his expression unbothered. “Hmm. Event planning isn’t exactly your forte, Jonas. I’m not sure why this is the very first item on your agenda, as if my morning schedule is completely empty.”