Broken by His Fiancée
My mother, Eleanor Thorne, dropped out of school at a young age to work, single-handedly raising my uncle, Logan Thorne, all on her own. Because of that bond, right before she passed away from a severe illness, she tightly held Logan’s hand and entrusted me to his care, begging him to look after me.
With bloodshot eyes, Uncle Logan swore right beside her hospital bed that he would never let a single soul lay a finger on me for the rest of his life.
When I was seven years old, my biological father, Richard Jennings, was preparing to remarry, and he muttered a cruel comment under his breath, calling me a piece of useless baggage.
The next second, Logan smashed a glass bottle right over his head.
"Who the hell do you think you are, talking to my little girl like that?" he roared. "Keep running your mouth, and I will personally ruin you!"
Before his head wounds could even fully heal, Richard literally checked himself out of the hospital and fled the city, never daring to show his face around us again.
During my high school years, a boy cornered me on the way home to force a love letter into my hands, which completely terrified me.
Logan flew into an absolute rage. That very afternoon, he brought a crew and broke the boy's leg.
That act invited a violent retaliation. Logan was targeted in a brutal hit-and-run and left for dead on the asphalt. He spent three grueling days fighting for his life in the ICU before the doctors finally pulled him back from the brink.
Yet, the exact moment he was discharged from the hospital, he tracked that student down again and beat him within an inch of his life.
I was utterly horrified. Desperate to prevent my uncle from hurting anyone else on my account, I, Maisie Thorne, secretly applied to a university overseas without telling him, leaving the country for three long years.
On the eve of Logan’s wedding, he personally flew out on a private jet to pick me up and bring me back home. That night, we sat down to have a quiet dinner together.
But the night took a twisted turn when his fiancée mistook me for a hidden mistress.
"So, you're the little obsession my husband can't seem to stop thinking about," Victoria Vane sneered, glaring at me. "I’ve heard all about the mysterious girl locked away in his private thoughts.
Let's see how much sleeping around you can do once I strip that pretty little face right off your head, Maisie Thorne!"