Claimed by my Husband ruthless Uncle

Chapter 3: Cutting the Ties

Josie's POV

​The rich scent of Julian’s high-end cologne still lingered on his suits, so I grabbed a few of his custom-made jackets and slid them off the mahogany rack, pulling with such sudden force that the wooden hangers clattered to the floor.

I never stopped to look at the tags, because those names no longer had any meaning to me, I just kept piling up the silk-lined pieces till the stack was as high as I was tall. Lily sat on the edge of the bed with her legs swinging back and forth, twisting the ear of her teddy bear with her small fingers as she looks on in silence, but she never asks me why I’m being messy because she knows she can sense the chill emanating from me.

“Look at this, Lily,” I said, pausing to pick up a heavy gold watch from the nightstand as the morning sun reflected off the diamonds on the bezel. I placed the cold metal in the palm of her small, warm hand, and I watched her eyes grow wide when she realized how much weight it had, and I told her that this little piece of gold was going to buy the biggest swing set in the neighborhood.

She hadn't looked mournful when I'd said it; she actually clutched the watch tight and asked if the swing set could include a slide, a moment that just made me see how profoundly Julian’s shadow loomed over both of us.I was in the middle of hauling a heavy crate of vintage wine toward the foyer when the front door banged against the wall, and the sound reverberated through the house like a gunshot.

Martha strode in with her black veil shoved back from her forehead, pale-faced and mouth contorted in a snarl when she caught sight of the two movers carting Julian’s beloved leather armchair out to the truck. She made a grab for the chair’s arm, attempting to yank it away from the laborers, all the while shouting that I was a grave robber who didn’t have the decency to let the funeral flowers wither.

“Your hands off my son’s things, you callous girl, because you’re not going to hawk his soul for some silver pieces!” she wailed, directing her fury toward me as I emerged from the cellar, a bottle of champagne in each hand. I held my tongue initially and only made a clicking sound as I put the bottles down on the marble table then gazed into her eyes, observing as her finger trembled while pointing at me.

“The only thing I’m selling is the junk that’s taking over my house, Martha, so you can just move along or these guys will pack you up in the truck with the furniture,” I told her, wiping a film of dust from my cheek as my low voice remained steady. She spluttered, flushing as her face became blotchy. She turned red as she called me a gold-digger, I simply reminded her that ‘family legacy’ wasn’t accepted by the bank as a payment method for the taxes Julian had been evading for years.

The dispute was escalating to a boiling point when the door opened again and Alexander entered with his charcoal coat over his arm, as if he were oblivious to the commotion. He didn't even glance at the furniture in the driveway; he went directly to the center of the room and laid a hand on Martha’s shoulder, and the woman froze mid-shout.

“The neighbors are coming out to film this from their porches, Martha, and I’m not sure the Hart name can take one more scandal this week,” Alexander said, his voice deep enough to rattle the floorboards underfoot. He looked at me, his gaze moving over the blank spots on the walls where the paintings had been, and then he faced back Martha and told her that her stint in this house was over for the day. He was practically herding her to the door, disregarding her whines about ‘disrespect,’ and he didn’t return until the noise of her car was receding down the driveway.

He came over to me as I was standing by the crates and took the inventory list from my hand, his fingers grazing my wrist as he reached. He glanced at the prices I dashed off and shook his head, informing me I was practically givingaway the wine, and that he knew a collector who would pay triple the price if I was willing to wait a week.

​"I don't want to wait, Alexander, I want every trace of him gone by tonight," I said, leaning back against the table while I watched him flip through the pages. He stepped closer, his shadow falling over me, and he told me that he had a business proposition that would make this little yard sale look like pocket change.

​"If you give me the power to vote your shares at the next board meeting, I'll personally ensure that Julian’s secret accounts are drained and moved into a trust for Lily that even the government can't touch," he said, his voice dropping into a low, intimate register that made my heart skip a beat.

I looked at him, searching for the catch, but all I saw was a man who had been waiting twenty years for me to finally open my eyes. I reached out and took the pen from his pocket, signed the bottom of the ledger with a flourish, and told him that as long as Julian ended up with nothing, he could have whatever he wanted.