Oops, Wrong Uncle! I Married The Real Zillionaire Instead!

A soft hum filled the room as Corinne Scott focused on pressing her wedding dress, smoothing out every crease with care. When her phone buzzed with a new email, she opened it without giving it much thought.

The quiet broke apart in an instant. A woman's voice spilled from the screen, breathless and teasing. "Oh God... does your fiancée... mm... ever wear something like this for you?"

The iron lingered too long. A sharp hiss followed as heat burned straight through the white satin, and the scent of scorched fabric spread through the air.

Corinne didn't move. It felt like the warmth drained from her body all at once.

Her eyes stayed locked on the screen. The room shown in the video was unmistakable. It was the same bedroom she stood in now, the master suite meant to be her and Jonny Palmer's after the wedding.

Low lighting cast shadows across the space. Things were out of place, scattered without care.

On the screen, Jonny moved with urgency, while the woman beneath him held onto him tightly.

Then his voice came through, familiar yet twisted in a way she had never heard.

"Her? She's cold. Won't even let me get close. You're nothing like that."

The woman let out a soft laugh, lifting her face slightly as she stayed close to him. "Then why go through with the wedding? Is it because… you find cheating like this more thrilling?"

The footage shifted, and the camera moved closer. The details came into focus, and Corinne finally recognized the woman.

Leyla Warren. The same coworker Jonny had casually introduced to her two years ago.

"I haven't slept with her yet. She keeps saying she wants to wait until after we're married. But you know how I am. I've got to sleep with her, no matter what." Jonny's voice came through again, careless and crude. On the screen, he pulled Leyla into a different position and kept going as if nothing mattered.

"Once I get what I want, I'll come up with a reason to leave her. My career's going somewhere, and I'm not tying myself to someone like her. She doesn't do anything for me."

Corinne stood there, staring at the blank screen as a dull ringing filled her ears. A rush of heat surged upward, making her head spin.

Pain hit her chest without warning, sharp enough to force her to bend forward.

For three years, Jonny had played his role perfectly. He acted like the kind of man anyone would trust. Now that image had shattered, leaving behind something ugly and hollow.

Her gaze moved slowly across the room. Every corner of the space had once felt like part of their future. Now, each detail only made her stomach twist.

The images refused to leave her mind. She could picture everything too clearly, what he had done in that very room, bringing someone else into the place she thought was theirs.

Her throat tightened as nausea rose, making her gag. Nothing came out. Her body trembled while tears kept falling, hot and endless.

She didn't know who sent the email. Still, it reached her before it was too late. At least she saw the truth before the wedding. At least she never crossed that line with him.

Two hours later, the door opened, and Jonny, who had just finished a meeting, rushed in. He stopped the moment he saw the apartment.

Everything was in disarray. For a split second, he thought someone had broken in. His hand was already reaching for his phone to call the police, but that thought died the instant he saw Corinne, sitting right in the middle of it all.

There was nothing in her eyes. The scissors hung loosely in her grip. Pieces of the wedding dress lay torn across the floor. The framed portrait they had chosen together was ruined, his face scratched beyond recognition, and a jagged hole had been stabbed straight through his lower body.

A chill ran through him, settling deep in his gut. Without thinking, he rushed over. "Corinne, is this about the dress? If you didn't like it, we can get a new one. We can redo the photos too. And if the apartment isn't how you want it, we can change everything. Just tell me what—" His words cut off.

Her hand tightened around the scissors, and in the next instant, she thrust them straight toward his groin.

Jonny jerked back, barely managing to avoid the strike.

"Cor—" Anger rose fast, almost spilling out, but he forced it down. He took a breath and changed his expression, putting on that same concerned look he always used. "Corinne, what are you doing? That could've gone wrong. What if you'd hurt yourself?"

He was still acting.

That same fake worry had worked on her before. She used to believe it.

Not anymore.

Her gaze stayed locked on him, cold and steady. "Jonny," she said, her voice tight with restraint, "did you enjoy it? Did you enjoy making a fool out of me?"

Her gaze shifted downward with clear intent. "I don't want secondhand trash. Maybe I should just cut that disgusting thing off."

Jonny stiffened, caught off guard. "What are you talking about?"

Before he could make sense of it, her hand struck his face. The sharp sound echoed through the room.

When she looked at him again, her eyes were red, and whatever control she had left slipped away. Anger took over, fierce and unrestrained.

"That's for the three years I wasted on someone like you!" she shouted. "For every bit of love and trust I gave you for nothing!"

Heat spread across Jonny's cheek. Shock filled his face as he lifted his head, ready to retaliate, but another slap hit him before he could react.

The second one left him stunned.

"And that's for every time I held myself back because of you!" Corinne yelled. "For every insult, every look, every moment your family made me feel small!"

Her hand shook after the blows, but it still wasn't enough. She grabbed the broken frame from the floor and threw it straight at him with everything she had.

"Get out of my sight, you cheating bastard!"

Later that night, inside a bar named Glamour, Corinne stumbled forward with a bottle of vodka almost empty in her hand. Her steps wavered, her body swaying as she moved. She steadied herself against the wall, answered a call from her best friend, Kristine Curtis, and took another long drink.

"Hey, since I can't come back to be with you right now, I arranged something for you instead. There's a seriously attractive guy waiting in Room 3269. Stop thinking about that jerk and just enjoy your night."

Corinne let out a slow breath, her voice slightly slurred. "Alright... I will."

After the call ended, she blinked a few times to clear her vision. Her gaze drifted across the hallway until it landed on the door marked 3296. Drawing in a steady breath, she braced herself and pushed it open.

The suite was large, decorated with a level of luxury that stood out at once. Still, none of that held her attention for long.

Her eyes locked onto the man seated on the sofa. Dressed in a dark suit, he leaned back in a relaxed posture, partially hidden by the low lighting.

Then she got a proper look at his face. Even through her haze, she could tell Kristine hadn't been exaggerating.

Someone with looks like his wouldn't go unnoticed anywhere. Even among people who relied on appearance for a living, he would stand apart. Yet here he was.

A soft laugh slipped from her lips as she closed the door behind her.

When she lifted her head again, their eyes met.

There was no warmth in his gaze. It stayed distant, almost guarded. After a brief moment, his brows pulled together slightly, and a hint of scrutiny crossed his expression.

Something seemed off about him, like he was holding himself back from discomfort. When he spoke, his voice stayed low and controlled. "Who are you here for?"

What was that supposed to mean?

So he was playing that kind of game.

A faint smile curved Corinne's lips. She walked across the room, set the bottle down on the table, and without asking, lowered herself onto his lap.

His body tensed immediately. Before he could react, she reached up, her hand settling behind his neck as she leaned in and pressed her lips against his.