Married To My Ex's Ruthless Uncle

We need the signature now, Ms. Martin. He has forty-eight hours at most."

Audriana stared at the critical condition notice in Dr. Finch's hand. Her stomach violently cramped, folding her posture forward. Dr. Finch hesitated, lowering the clipboard slightly. "Ms. Martin, you should also know—the initial scans picked up a mass. We haven't been able to biopsy yet, given the cardiac emergency, but it is… concerning." The word mass landed in her chest like a second blow, but she could not process it. Not now. Behind the thick glass of the ICU, her father, Harper, lay buried under a tangle of plastic tubes. The heart monitor next to his bed let out a frantic, high-pitched scream that felt like a drill boring directly into her skull.

"I..." Audriana's voice cracked. Her throat was so dry it felt lined with sandpaper. Her mother had been sedated in a private room down the hall. The sight of Harper coding on the table had shattered Edythe completely—she had collapsed, screaming, until a nurse pressed a needle into her arm. Audriana was alone.

She reached out with a trembling hand. Her fingers felt like blocks of ice. She took the pen from the doctor and dragged the tip across the paper. A hot tear slipped down her cheek, splashing onto the ink and blurring her last name. The sheer weight of her helplessness crushed her chest, making it impossible to pull air into her lungs.

Her phone vibrated in her pocket.

She pulled it out. The screen lit up with a text from Eston, her ex-fiancé.

I told you not to be stubborn, Audriana. The Martin Group is mine by Friday. Beg me, and I might pay for the funeral.

Audriana's jaw locked so hard her teeth ached. The metallic taste of blood flooded her mouth as she bit down on the inside of her cheek. She swiped her thumb across the screen, blocking his number permanently. The despair in her chest hardened into a cold, sharp stone.

She opened her contacts. Her thumb hovered over a name she had sworn never to touch.

Ellwood Maxwell.

The apex predator of Wall Street. Eston's uncle.

Her fingertips turned bone-white as she pressed the call button. The phone rang twice before a robotic, sterile voice prompted her to wait. A second later, a male assistant answered.

"Mr. Maxwell does not take unsolicited meetings. Good day."

The line went dead.

Audriana's breathing turned ragged. She shoved the phone into her pocket, spun around, and ran toward the elevator. Her heels clicked frantically against the linoleum floor. She burst through the hospital doors and into the freezing Manhattan rain.

Twenty minutes later, she stood inside the massive, echoing lobby of the Maxwell building. Rainwater dripped from her soaked hair, running down her neck and soaking into her collar.

"Ma'am, you cannot pass the turnstiles without an appointment," the security guard said, stepping into her path. His hand rested heavily on his belt.

Audriana didn't argue. She unclasped the