Ex-Periment: Fake-Dating My Ex’s Billionaire Uncle

Minnie There is nothing worse than watching the former love of your life engage who used to be your childhood best friend. It’s absolutely crazy how the world continues to move on . . . after your life has fallen apart. You’d expect time to freeze, even for the tiniest second to acknowledge the pain searing through your heart. You’d think the world must have felt it, surely, this pain shouldn’t be limited to one person alone. You’d believe that the universe can't be that heartless as to continue revolving after witnessing such heartbreaking event. But you’d be wrong. Oh, how wrong I was. So wrong yet so, so stupid. I grab a shawl from the already messed up bed and fold into a ball before shoving it into my suitcase with enough force to rip the fabric. I never wanted to be this person, this messed up, sad heap of flesh. But life has a way of turning things around right? Exactly a month from today, I was engaged to Danny, heir to Tyson Empire, New York’s sweetheart and the man of my dreams. I’ve been with Danny ever since we graduated high school and he is the only relationship I’ve ever been in. The only relationship I ever wanted to be in. Now here I am, in his family house thirty one days after the engagement was called off and he started dating someone else – someone else who also happens to be my best friend - picking up the pieces of my past. Literally. I always thought the four-corners of this mansion will become a home to me, I just never realized – The banging of the front door shut downstairs catches my attention and I freeze at the spot, the sound rendering me immovable. I chose today to grab my things from Danny’s home because it is the one day I know the Tyson mansion will inevitably be empty. His parents are off in one of the resorts they usually visit on Sundays, the domestic staff has their off-day today and according to the blogs, Danny is off touring some s**t town with his new girl. So the house is supposed to be empty today. By all legal means. Grabbing a bat from the corner of the room, I make my way to the stairs, trudging carefully between the banisters to avoid being seen. A ruffling sound from the kitchen draws my attention and I tiptoe carefully towards the open door to see – “Mr. Graham?” Danny’s uncle’s gaze levels me with a piercing stare as a smirking smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes stretches across his face. “I figured you’ll be here.” The last time I saw Graham Tyson, he was in his last year of college while Danny and I were in our last year of high school. The last time I saw him is also nothing compared to seeing him now. He has always been a pretty sight to see, granted but the years seem to have done him so much better. Somehow, the scrawny arms that was perfect for the scrawny body has morphed into the toned biceps and packed body in front of me, the height intensified to six-foot-something and his face… there is something about that face that – “When you’re done staring,” Graham starts, leveling me with a calm look, “I’d like to talk.” I blink away the old version of him away, reconciling with this hotter version of a man I recognize and at the same time don’t. “Danny is not here,” I mutter, “neither is Mr. Tyson or any other –” “I know,” his eyes search around the kitchen, “Do you happen to know where the cork screw is? I’ve been looking for it forever.” My eyes capture the lavish red wine in his grip. “Top drawer to the left.” It takes him a second to find it, “Back to business,” he smirks again, facing me, “I heard about Danny.” I squirm under those questioning eyes, “What exactly did you hear.” He scoffs, “The blogs carried it and trust me, I might be old, but I’m still fairly up to date.” Is he kidding me right now? Last I checked the age difference between Danny and Graham is merely a round seven so that puts him roughly at age thirty-two. That doesn’t scream ‘old’ to me. I quirk a brow, “I’m sure the world has heard it by now.” “But still,” Graham leans forward on the kitchen counter, “Here you are.” “Here I am,” I echo, “I’ve got some things left and I’m just packing up now that –” “I don’t give a rat’s ass about your presence here, Miss Slogan. It’s not my house.” “It’s the Tyson family house so technically, it –” “It belongs to my brother,” Graham chips, “it’s not mine. Yet.” There is a sinister look to his face after the last word that arches my brow in quiet suspicion. It takes a second to realize that the Tyson family business doesn’t matter to me anymore. “Bottom line,” he steps around the counter, walking up to me, “You’re heartbroken, thanks to my nephew who doesn’t know an opportunity when it presents itself on a golden platter.” I gape, “An opportunity? Is that what I am?” “Not to him. Or at least not anymore.” I scoff. “I’m barely an opportunity to myself not less anybody around me. I’m a nobody.” I mean that too. Apart from the fact that my father was once the Tyson’s accountant and family best friend, I’ve known nothing about my family except for the fact that I grew up with my aunty alongside the Tyson kids. “I don’t care what you think about yourself either,” Graham adds. When did he become so rude? “I only know one thing. We both have things we want and – ” “What do you think I ‘want’?” An impatient look crosses his face, “You should know I hate interruptions of any kind Slogan. But if I offer you revenge. Revenge against the people who hurt you, wouldn’t you take it?” I raise a brow. I’ll do anything, anything to hurt Danny and Isabel the same way they hurt me. But I’m not about to admit that fact to him. “What does it matter?” I ask, “What’s done is already done right?” “What if I can make him come back to you?” he asks blatantly, “make him regret, make him beg, make him crawl back to you.” I feel the knot tightening somewhere deep in my throat. “I don’t want that either,” I lie. He smirks like he can see right through my blatant lie, “Okay. Revenge then. I have the power to make them pay. Dearly. Would you take that?” “I’ll bite,” I reply, suspicion raising my hackles like a poisonous crab ready to strike, “What do you have in mind.” “It’s simple,” he states and something tells me it’s not as simple as he lets on, “You become mine for a year.”