Wedding Night, Sleeping with My Hubby's Uncle

On their wedding night.

Belle Summers found a pair of lace panties, adorned with pearls, in the pocket of her groom’s tuxedo. Without a word, she quietly put them back.

Victor Shaw emerged from the bathroom, wearing only a white bath towel. His deep, dark, almond-shaped eyes were filled with desire.

Victor approached the bed, kneeling on one knee, inching closer to Belle. “Honey, I want you.”

His scorching hand branded her fair, dewy calf, gradually moving upwards...

Belle’s eyes were filled with a crimson fury.

This man.

He was the one she had admired since she was sixteen, the one who stood by her through family turmoil, through all the storms, the man who would pierce his own chest for her.

But he...

Cheated.

Cheating men were dirty.

As Victor’s fingers slid upwards, about to touch the inside of her thigh, Belle trembled all over. She grabbed his hand through the thin, sexy red nightgown she wore.

Victor, immersed in his desire, suddenly looked up.

His eyes burned with a fierce fire. “Belle, what's wrong? Are you nervous? Don't worry, I'll be very gentle for our first time.”

As he spoke, he leaned in to kiss her lips.

Victor's intense masculine scent overwhelmed her, but now Belle only felt disgust.

Her stomach churned violently.

She couldn’t accept it.

So, she clamped her hand over Victor's mouth and asked, “Victor, do you love me?”

Victor smiled slightly.

He took Belle's fingers, placing delicate kisses on them. “Are you having wedding night anxiety? Do you think I don’t love you? If I didn’t love you, would I have given you such a grand wedding? If I didn’t love you, would I have married you? Silly girl, tonight I’ll show you just how much I love you, my dear.”

The lust in his eyes was almost overflowing.

It didn’t seem fake.

Belle even felt a moment of disorientation.

Could it be that the panties were just a misunderstanding?

Perhaps they were planted by one of Victor’s admirers on purpose?

If she took it seriously, wouldn’t she be playing right into their hands?

Belle decided she should uncover the truth, rather than condemning Victor based on a single piece of inexplicable evidence.

However, until she knew for sure, Belle didn't want to be intimate with him. "Victor, I’m not ready yet."

She resolutely wrapped herself in the blanket.

The desire on Victor's face gradually turned to pity. “Honey.”

Belle remained unmoved. “The wedding was exhausting.”

Victor narrowed his eyes, his gaze settling on Belle's lips, inscrutable. “Babe.”

Belle shook her head.

Victor’s interest faded completely, irritation creeping in, but he chose to respect Belle. “Alright, let's sleep.”

Half an hour later.

Victor turned over. “Belle?”

Belle didn't respond, sleeping soundly.

Victor glanced at his phone, then quietly slipped out of their new bedroom.

The moment he opened the door.

Belle’s eyes opened.

She put on a coat and slowly walked outside.

In the hotel parking lot, she stood under a magnolia tree.

She watched as Victor opened the door of a silver Mercedes not far away. Through the crack, she saw Vivian’s face.

Victor’s childhood sweetheart, who had married hastily out of spite three years ago, was now in the middle of a divorce cooling-off period.

Heavy breathing and moans intermingled, the man's voice was even louder than the woman’s.

Soon, the window closed completely.

Only the car continued to rock back and forth.

Belle clenched her fists, her nails digging into her palms, drawing thin streaks of blood. She trembled with disappointment, her heart feeling like it was being fried in hot oil or soaked in brine, shrinking and shriveling painfully.

She had once believed that even if every man on earth cheated, her Victor never would.

Their relationship.

Belle had always felt secure in it.

He introduced her to all his friends, personally rejected all ambiguous advances, braved the cold to bring her hot ginger tea during her periods, and supported all her decisions unconditionally...

But now.

It all seemed like a joke.

Belle closed her eyes, a sob choking her throat. She thought she should expose their affair and then get a divorce.

She had always been a straightforward person.

But...

But she had stepped down as the company’s second-in-command, and even her shares and dividends were in a joint account with Victor.

If she divorced now, not only would she get no money, but she would also be crushed by the Shaw family.

What would happen to her mother then? What about her grandmother?

Her trust in Victor had turned into a sharp blade against herself.

Belle’s heart was torn open, filled with the cold wind, both painful and swollen, yet she was powerless.

She felt very cold, so she tightened her coat around her.

Turning around, she walked away like a puppet on strings.

As she waited for the elevator, someone suddenly struck her from behind, rendering her unconscious.

Belle collapsed to the ground, limp.

When she regained consciousness, she panicked, realizing she was lying on an unfamiliar bed.

And on top of her was an unfamiliar man.

She was completely naked.

The man and she were already deeply intertwined.

Belle's tears instantly fell.

On her wedding night, she discovered her husband’s infidelity.

And now, inexplicably, she had lost her virginity.

Two events that seemed too tragic to be written together in a novel had happened to her in one night.

Belle cried until she was gasping for breath.

In the darkness.

The man kissed her brow, tasting her bitter tears, and huskily promised, “Remember my name, Alfred. I will marry you.”

‘Alfred? Alfred from the Shaw family!’

Victor’s young uncle, because Victor's father married into the Shaw family, hence Victor took his mother's surname.

Who was Alfred Shaw?

He was the renowned crown prince of Seabrook. The daughters of wealthy families, eager to marry him, formed a line from the east of Seabrook all the way to Austria. His appearance was extraordinary, his abilities unparalleled, his intelligence remarkably high, and his methods ruthlessly effective.

Belle didn’t even dare to cry anymore.

Her small hand covered her mouth.

She feared Alfred would recognize her voice, and then he might silence her for good.

Alfred had been drugged.

He had had a few extra drinks at his nephew's wedding banquet, never expecting to be set up.

He had never indulged in women. Except for a fleeting romance in his youth, which ended without a trace, for many years, not even a female mosquito had appeared around him. Experiencing such intimacy now, he found it unexpectedly addictive.

The petite woman beneath him was soft and delicate, her sweet moans further provoking him into an uncontrollable frenzy.

He was rough, forceful, and deep.

Belle was forced to endure it, her body feeling as though it were being battered by waves in a vast ocean, rising and falling with the tides.

Her body was a mess.

The bed beneath them even more so.

He had taken her five times that night.

By the time Belle quietly slipped away, her body ached as though she had climbed to the highest heavens.

Belle ran in such a hurry.

She didn’t notice that in the darkness, a pair of eyes were fixed on her, filled with jealousy and hatred.