Haunted By The Billionaire: My Uncle's Ex-Husband Won't Let Me Go

Olivia: "She’s gone!" A loud scream erupted inside the house, shocking me from my sleep. "What?! What do you mean?!" A mixture of fear and panic caused my voice to break as my heartbeat pounded in my ears. A powerful fury burned from her green eyes while her chest moved rapidly. She stood by the doorway. "SHE’S f*****g GONE! YOUR SISTER" she roared. The air turned thick. My head spun. Gone? My sister? On her wedding day? I flung the blanket aside and sprinted to her room. The door slammed against the wall as I threw it open. Empty. The bed was untouched. The closet door hung ajar, her dresses still inside. Panic surged through me as I stumbled to the balcony. And then—I saw it. A rope. No. Not a rope. Bedsheets. Tied together. Dangling over the edge. A violent shiver raked down my spine. Step… Step… Step… Footsteps. Fast. Rushed. Getting closer. Mother. I barely had time to turn before— SNAP! Her fingers clamped around my wrist, sharp as iron claws. "Ah—!" Pain seared through my arm. Her grip tightened, nails digging into my skin. This wasn’t just anger. This was rage. Her voice was low, venomous. "You’re taking her place!" My heart stopped. What? She leaned in, her breath scalding against my skin. "You. Will. Marry. Him." My body turned to ice. My breath hitched. "No," I whispered, my voice barely audible. "Not me. Please—" "No objections!" she snapped, yanking me forward. "You have no choice. You will do this. Now." I couldn’t breathe. The surrounding walls pressed upon me until they became too heavy for me to bear. And just like that—everything changed. *** "Do you, Olivia Lancaster, take Nicholas Sinclair to be your lawfully wedded husband, to have and to hold, from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death do you part?" My throat tightened. My chest heaved. Say it. Say it. But my lips wouldn’t move. I glanced at my mother. Her eyes were cold, sharp. A silent threat. A command. My stomach twisted. My heart pounded, fast and erratic. I turned to the man before me. His face was unreadable. Cold. Empty. He didn’t want this either. We both knew this was a transaction, not a marriage. A deal, not love. It should be my sister standing here. But she ran. She left me to carry the weight. My father’s company had collapsed. His stroke left him in a coma. We were drowning in debt. There was no way out. Not after I abandoned my degree. My future. My life. And the worst part? I already had someone. Someone I loved. Someone who left, promising to come back. He never did. No calls. No letters. Just… gone. Still, I waited. I never stopped waiting. But now—now I was about to belong to a stranger. My hands trembled. My pulse roared in my ears. I opened my mouth— And my world shattered. "I do." The priest nodded solemnly. "You may now kiss the bride." A lump formed in my throat. I turned to him. My husband. He leaned in. Slowly. But just as our lips were about to meet, he whispered, voice low, lethal— "Don’t you dare touch me." Thump. My heart stopped. For a moment, I forgot how to breathe. I stood there, frozen, as the weight of those words crashed over me. A wedding with no love. A husband who loathed me. And a life that was no longer mine. The wedding continued. I remained in the bridal suite, silently watching my reflection while my makeup remained untouched. My hands trembled in my lap. Every attempt to control my breathing failed because my chest remained locked in a stranglehold. I still couldn’t accept this. My fate. The door creaked open. I turned sharply, my pulse quickening. Mother. She stood in the doorway, her expression unreadable. For a brief moment—just a flicker—I thought I saw something in her eyes. Sympathy. A trace of warmth. My vision blurred, and fresh tears spilled down my cheeks. I rose to my feet, the weight of the gown making me feel trapped, heavy. I wanted to run into her arms, to sob into her shoulder, to tell her how unbearable this was—how much I was breaking. But before I could utter a single word, her voice sliced through the room. "Don’t be weak." My breath hitched. Her eyes hardened. Cold. Unforgiving. "This is your responsibility. You are the eldest daughter. The debts—all of it—fall on you." Then, with pure disgust, she spat out, "Because your useless father got sick." STAB! A sharp, invisible blade tore through my chest. My heart shattered into a thousand unfixable pieces. Did she—did she really just say that? I stared at her, wide-eyed, unable to believe the words that had just left her lips. "Mother? What are you saying?" My voice shook, barely a whisper. She didn’t blink. Didn’t waver. "You’re so cruel," I choked out. "Cruel? Your father is the one who dragged me into this misery! That’s why you must take responsibility!" she snapped. I really couldn’t believe this. "Do as I say. This marriage will last only five years. Until then, you must obey your husband. Whatever he wants! Do you hear me?" "But I don’t want this, Mother." My tears started falling, unstoppable. "Wipe your tears! Accept your fate!" Her words rang out strong and irrevocable, much like those of a juror issuing a final death warrant. My entire body remained motionless as my heart fragmented beyond repair. A burning pain flowed through my entire being as a deadly toxin killed me inch by inch. But why me? It was my sister who caused all this—so why was I the one paying the price? Where was she now? And why… why did my mother seem almost pleased? There was no sorrow in her eyes, no regret. Not even the slightest trace of guilt. Just cold satisfaction. To be continued...