The Ex-Husband's Nephew

After the ink dried on my divorce papers, I picked up a mute boyfriend. Silas was young, pliable, and hit all the right spots. He was the perfect, quiet distraction.

That is, until I stopped by his frat house and heard my sweet, clingy little mute having a fullblown conversation. He wasn't just talking. His voice was a deep, gravelly baritone.

Someone chuckled inside the room. "Silas, man, how long are you gonna keep up this silent act?" "Until I get bored." Chapter 1 I had barely stepped up to the porch of his frat townhouse when I heard the sleazy, teasing laughter drifting from inside. "Silas, man, what's it like playing the mute to get your exaunt into bed?" My Converse hit the hardwood, freezing in place outside the door.

A long, agonizing beat of silence passed before a much deeper, gravelly baritone cut through the room. "Nothing special." Through the crack in the door, I caught sight of him.

He was slouched in a gaming chair, one long leg thrown carelessly over the other.

His eyelids drooped in that signature, highfashion resting bitch face he did so well. "So when are you gonna drop her?

Doesn't it suck keeping your mouth shut all day?" "Does it suck running your mouth all day?" He spun his iPhone between his fingers, dripping with blatant irritation. "I'll drop her when I get bored." I didn't make a sound.

I forced my numb legs to turn around and walked back down the steps, pretending I hadn't heard a damn thing. I pulled out my phone and shot him a text. [ Here.

Where are you? ] The reply was instantaneous. [ Got it! Coming down right now! ] Seconds later, a figure burst out of the frat house front doors.

Silas was still wearing that same black hoodie. But the arrogant, irritated scowl had vanished, replaced by the bright, eager face of a golden retriever.

He flashed me a wide grin as he jogged up to me, looking down to tap out a message on his screen. [ Did you wait long? ] "Not really." He studied my face for two seconds, blinking those innocent eyes, before his thumbs flew across the keyboard again. [ Are you mad?

Did you get annoyed waiting? ] I turned to look at the boy holding up his screen, so carefully, so desperately trying to please me. I let out a slow exhale. "No.

Just work stuff." [ Oh. ] He lowered his gaze, his face instantly crumpling into a picture of dejection.

The contrast between this kickedpuppy routine and the cold asshole in that room was so jarring it gave me whiplash. I almost convinced myself I had hallucinated the whole thing.

He sat obediently in the passenger seat of my car when a thought seemed to strike him. [ Can you give me a few minutes? ] I nodded.

He instantly shoved the car door open and bolted out.

While I waited, my thumb hovered over Alistair's contact photo for a long minute before finally tapping it. [ You mentioned before that you have a nephew.

What's his name? ] The man I hadn't spoken to in forever replied almost immediately. [ Silas. Why? ] I was just about to type back when the passenger door ripped open.

I shoved my phone deep into my pocket, my heart spiking. It was Silas. He hopped in, one hand jammed in his pocket.

Right after clicking his seatbelt into place, he suddenly pulled out a lollipop. Strawberry flavored.

He nudged it toward me. "For me?" He nodded enthusiastically. [ Please don't be mad anymore, okay? ] Once upon a time, I was the Cinderella who only made it through college because I was sponsored by Alistair's family trust fund.

He only married me to fulfill the marriage and reproduction clause in his family's will. He needed an obedient, docile wife to get his elitist family off his back.

And I was the perfect, easily manipulated pawn. When we were together, I rarely got a glimpse into the inner workings of his family.

But I did have a vague impression of this particular nephew, the one they always kept exiled on the fringes. A reckless trustfund baby.

A chaotic young master who gave even Alistair massive headaches when he went off the rails.

And yet, here this absolute menace was, sitting next to me with the most angelic expression on his face.

He was putting on a hell of a show, and honestly, I found it incredibly amusing. I hit the brakes at a red light and turned to look at him. "Kiss me." He froze for a second.

Then, the look in his eyes darkened, turning dangerously predatory. He didn't need to be told twice.

He lunged across the console, his fingers gripping my jaw, and smashed his mouth against mine in a bruising, possessive kiss.

No matter how perfectly Silas played the innocent puppy during the day, that raw, primal aggression he unleashed in bed was impossible to hide.

Suddenly, a sharp doublehonk pierced the air from the car next to us. Before I could pull away, the horn blared again. I snapped my head over, my pulse hammering in my throat.

The tinted window of the sleek Maybach idling beside us slowly rolled down, revealing a face I knew all too well. Alistair?

Chapter 2 My spine stiffened, but the tension bled out just as fast. He didn't own me anymore.

The man's face was tight, his voice dripping with condescension. "Couldn't wait to get out of your clothes?" I arched an eyebrow, staring right back at him. "The young pup has a lot of stamina.

What's the matter, Alistair? Feeling inadequate and jealous?" Alistair's face darkened. His gaze sliced right past me, trying to zero in on the passenger seat. My pulse spiked.

I instinctively shifted, blocking his line of sight. "Light's green. I wouldn't want to hold up traffic." Before he could spit out a reply, I hit the button and rolled my window up.

I glanced over at Silas. He had his face turned toward the passenger window, completely unreadable. A dark, twisted curiosity sparked in my chest.

What kind of face would Alistair make if he found out the guy he just caught me with was his own nephew? But this game was getting way too fun.

I wasn't about to let it end just yet. The second my apartment door clicked shut, Silas lunged at me.

He pinned me against the wall, his arms caging me in as he devoured my mouth with a desperate, crushing kiss.

He pulled back just enough to aggressively type on his phone and shove the screen in my face. [ I don't like him. ] "Who don't you like?" His thumbs practically bruised the screen. [ Your exhusband. ] "Oh." I leaned in, my lips brushing the sensitive skin right behind his ear. "What a coincidence.

I don't like him either." He scooped me up with one arm and tossed me onto the mattress. A gasp tore from my throat as my hands scrambled to grip the back of his neck.

A silent, wicked smirk curled his lips, his eyes flashing with pure triumph.

My mind flashed back to what his frat brother asked him earlier today. [ What's it like getting your exaunt into bed? ] [ Nothing special. ] But for me?

Fucking my exhusband's nephew? That felt pretty damn spectacular. Alistair used to be crazy in bed, too. But it was the cold, domineering craze of a man who owned everything.

He only knew how to take. I never actually enjoyed it. But Silas was different. I knew he was bending over backward to please me.

And that sick thrill only skyrocketed after I found out exactly who he was.

Just as his hands ripped at the hem of my shirt, desperate to start, the highdef security intercom on my apartment wall buzzed frantically.

He grabbed his phone. [ Ignore it. ] Seconds later, the buzzing switched to my ringtone. "It might be important." I patted Silas's messy hair to soothe him, swiping my phone off the nightstand with one hand. "Open the door." It was Alistair. "I'm not home." "I saw your car in the garage.

Open the fucking door." My fingers tightened around the phone. "Now is not a good time." I could hear the flick of a lighter through the speaker. "Are you with that guy?" "We're divorced.

It's none of your business." "Then let's get remarried." The words dropped like a lead weight. It sounded like he even shocked himself. Dead silence stretched between us.

The only sound was the faint, electric hum of static bleeding through the speaker. I broke the silence first. "You're drunk.

Have your assistant drive you home." "Open the door first." "I said it's not a good time." "Heh.

Quinn, you're getting bolder by the minute." He paused, a dark, raspy chuckle vibrating through the line as some memory hit him. "No, wait, I forgot.

You snuck a kiss when I was wasted back then, played dumb, and practically forced me to marry you. You've always had a lot of nerve." The line went dead.

I stood there, my grip whiteknuckling the phone, Alistair's words echoing in my skull. I really did love him back then.

The first time I saw Alistair was right after I got my college acceptance letter.

I marched right up to his corporate headquarters with reckless, stupid bravery, just wanting to meet the benefactor who was paying my tuition.

Falling for him felt completely inevitable. I never dreamed I would actually end up wearing his ring.

After the wedding, I lived in this pathetic, rosecolored bubble I built for myself. I honestly thought my love alone was enough to keep our toxic marriage afloat.

Until Bianca showed up and completely shattered my delusions. Chapter 3 [ Quinn? ] A hand slid around my waist from behind. I glanced over my shoulder.

Silas was standing right there. A sudden, twisted curiosity hit me. What would he do if he knew the real reason Alistair and I divorced was because of another woman?

Would he play the tragic mute again to seduce Bianca? Then again, the mute gimmick was getting old. Maybe he'd pretend to need a wheelchair for her.

The thought pulled a dark laugh from my throat. I patted his cheek. "I'm not in the mood anymore.

Rain check." I slipped out of his grasp and pulled my silk robe tight around my shoulders. I didn't stick around long enough to catch the complicated, dark shift in his eyes.

Later that night, the harsh buzzing of a phone dragged me out of a dead sleep. [ Silas, man, the VIP booth at Enigma is waiting on you. ] [ We got some absolute tens here tonight.

You seriously passing on a drink? ] My bleary eyes finally focused. I was holding Silas's phone. The shower was still running in the master bath.

I tossed the device back onto the mattress. A few minutes later, Silas stepped out. Thinking I was asleep, he moved with practiced, deadsilent stealth to his side of the bed.

He swiped his screen open, tapped twice, and tossed it onto the nightstand before pulling a hoodie over his head.

I let out a soft groan, acting like the rustling woke me up. "Going out?" His thumbs tapped rapidly against the screen before he showed it to me. [ My academic advisor needs me to fix a data error for his lab.

Gotta run back to campus. ] "Now? It's almost midnight." Silas offered a helpless shrug, his face the picture of victimhood. A cold laugh echoed in my head.

This trustfund brat was completely wasting his acting talents by not going to Hollywood.

I forced down the urge to roll my eyes and reached out to pat his damp hair. "Seniors have zero rights.

I get it." I waited exactly five minutes after the front door clicked shut before I threw off the covers. I grabbed my car keys off the counter and followed him out into the night.

It wasn't about jealousy. It was pure, morbid curiosity. I needed to see what the real Silas looked like, stripped of his pathetic, kickedpuppy routine.

After all, the very first time I met Silas was at the highend private rehab center. I had just come out of a major surgery.

My mobility was shot, and I needed serious physical therapy. Silas was the exclusive physical therapist assigned to me by the center. At first, I tried to refuse him.

It wasn't because he was supposedly a deafmute—it was because I explicitly requested a female therapist. The idea of a man's hands constantly on my body made me tense.

But the boy practically begged me through his screen. [ I've been taking care of my paralyzed mother since I was a kid.

I know every muscle group. ] [ I swear I can do a better job than anyone else they send you. ] I have to admit, that exact sentence broke my defenses. I never had a father.

When my own mother was paralyzed, I was the one doing the heavy lifting, taking care of her while still a kid.

If Alistair's family trust hadn't stepped in to sponsor me, I would have dropped out of high school to work drivethrus. So, against my better judgment, I let him stay.

Silas was true to his word. He was obedient, obsessively diligent, and anticipated my every need.

While the other therapists slipped out for endless coffee runs, he was a permanent fixture by my side.

He didn't just push me through the grueling physical rehab; he handled the most humiliating, vulnerable parts of my recovery without a single flinch.

On the days the pain dragged me into a dark pit, he bent over backward to pull a smile out of me. When the hospital food made me nauseous, he started sneaking in homemade meals.

He would spend hours carving vegetables and arranging the food into stupid, elaborate cartoon characters just to coax me into taking a single bite.

The wealthy older woman in the private suite next door used to watch us and laugh. "That boy isn't treating you like a patient," she told me once. "He's treating you like his girl." So, crossing the line into a relationship felt completely natural.

It was a seamless transition from him massaging my cramped calves to his hands mapping out the rest of my body.

Through all those months, I never once questioned who Silas really was. Chapter 4 He used to constantly slip into ASL with me.

Sometimes, when the mood struck, I'd even have him teach me a few gestures.

Even in the absolute heat of the moment, when we were completely tangled in the sheets, he never let a single sound slip past his lips.

He just stared at me with those dark, liquid eyes, looking like a thoroughly satisfied puppy. But honestly, the main reason his cover never blew was simple.

What kind of spoiled, chaotic trustfund brat could actually maintain that level of insane discipline?

He was so committed to the bit, you'd think he was method acting for a damn Oscar. Stripping away his privilege just to play the tragic victim in my bed!

I used to be a regular at these neonlit underground clubs. Mostly because Alistair dragged me along as his designated driver. He'd down the scotch; I'd take the wheel.

And on the drive back, we'd do every filthy, unhinged thing imaginable in the backseat of his blackedout GWagon.

I forcefully shoved the memory out of my head and scanned the crowded floor for Silas's VIP booth.

Suddenly, a heavy grip locked onto my wrist. "Looking for me?" I jerked my head up.

Alistair was blocking my path. "You lock me out of your apartment, but you rush straight to my club.

Playing hard to get, Quinn?" "I'm looking for my boyfriend." I cut my eyes away from his burning stare and wrenched my arm, trying to walk away. His fingers dug into my pulse point.

In one brutal, fluid motion, he dragged me off the hallway and shoved me into an empty stall in the men's room. "Alistair—!" "Scream louder," he murmured, his chest caging me in. "Let the whole club watch." My nails dug into my palms as I glared up at him.

His rough thumb swiped across my lower lip, pressing down hard enough to hurt. "Is this where he kissed you today?" "None of your damn business.

Let me go." "The kitten finally learned how to scratch," Alistair chuckled, the sound dark and raspy. "You've grown quite a spine since the papers were signed." He leaned closer. "Dump him." "Why the hell would I do that?" "Quinn," he whispered, his knuckles trailing down my jawline. "You know I despise it when other men touch what belongs to me." His eyes turned pitchblack. "Your little rebellion was cute, but playtime is over.

Do not push your luck." I opened my mouth to fire back, but he cut me off. "I signed those divorce papers just to humor your little temper tantrum.

It never meant you were actually free of me. I let you off the leash for a year, and clearly, you've forgotten exactly who owns you." He oozed that suffocating, elite arrogance.

With one phone call, he could obliterate my career and bankrupt my entire life. But my blood was boiling.

Where did the man who blew up our marriage get the audacity to act like the victim? "You already have Bianca.

Isn't she enough to stroke your ego?" A flash of absolute disgust crossed Alistair's face at the sound of her name. "I told you.

That was just a publicity stunt." "A stunt?" I let out a sharp, bitter laugh. "The uncensored, highdef video of you two practically dryhumping on a luxury yacht already has twenty million views on Twitter!" The sheer sociopathic narcissism was suffocating.

He was unhinged. I refused to waste another breath on him. I twisted my wrists, fighting to break his hold. Suddenly, the heavy bathroom door swung open.

Heavy boots echoed against the tiles. "Uncle Alistair, you done in there?" My blood turned to ice. My lungs seized. Silas?

Alistair reached for the latch, fully prepared to swing the stall door open.

I lunged forward, grabbed a fistful of his custom Tom Ford silk tie, and shoved his back hard against the metal door.

He arched an eyebrow, a dangerously heated, predatory smirk spreading across his face.

He leaned against the metal, clearly enjoying this way too much. "What is it?" Separated by a single, thin partition, Silas's gravelly, irritated voice drifted over. "I'm heading out.

Give me your driver." "Going home this early?" "Yeah." Alistair pulled out his phone and fired off a quick text to his chauffeur.

Heavy boots finally turned and started walking away. Just before the main door swung shut, Silas let out a mocking, low whistle. "Pacing yourself at your age, Uncle.

Have fun." Chapter 5 I looked up, crashing right into Alistair's calculating stare. "You know Silas?" "Never heard of him." "Then why did you hide?" "A man and a woman shoved into a single stall in the men's room.

Maybe the great Alistair has no shame, but I do." I kicked the metal door open. This time, he didn't try to stop me. Silas had Alistair's chauffeur drive him home.

That meant he definitely wouldn't be heading back to my apartment tonight. After all, Alistair's driver knew exactly where I lived.

Since Silas was playing dressup to get into my bed, he obviously couldn't risk his uncle finding out. I was in no rush to get back.

I took my time, letting my heels click against the empty pavement. It was late, and only a few cars blew past me in the dark.

Above the quiet street, the neon billboards burned violently bright.

Bianca's perfectly contoured face was blown up in ultrahigh definition on a massive Times Square LED screen right in front of me. "If it wasn't for Alistair's black card, trailer trash like you wouldn't even deserve to breathe the same air as me." The words she spat in my face years ago echoed in my skull.

Back then, I was stupid enough to feel smug. "So what?

He still chose to marry me instead of you." But then, the uncensored video of her and Alistair making out went viral everywhere. I broke down, demanding Alistair cut her off.

And what did he say? "Quinn, can you stop acting like a toddler?" It was like a bucket of ice water waking me from a pathetic dream. Right.

They were the "elites." Bianca was the childhood sweetheart who grew up trailing right behind him. The Alist Hollywood star entirely manufactured by Alistair's dirty money.

And I was just the obedient little wife he kept locked in his penthouse. In all the years we were married, I hadn't even figured out who his nephew was. Not because I didn't care.

Alistair never gave me the chance. To him, I was probably just a convenient body to warm his bed.

From the cold war to the signed divorce papers, Alistair was convinced I was throwing a tantrum. He thought I'd eventually regret it and come crawling back.

Oh, I regretted it, alright. I regretted not leaving his ass sooner. Just as I reached my lobby, my phone buzzed. It was Silas.

He sent a selfie of himself laying in his dorm bed. [ Finally in bed. ] Life really is a stage, and this kid deserved a damn Emmy.

Playing along, I typed back: [ Just finished with the lab? ] [ Yeah. My advisor worked me to the bone. ] A second later, another photo popped up.

Just the messy blankets pulled up to his chin. [ Miss you. ] I curled my lip in a smirk. [ Good boy.

I'll make sure you're fully fed next time. ] The sound of my front door clicking open woke me up the next morning.

I dragged myself out of the bedroom and ran straight into Silas holding a takeout bag. I blinked, faking surprise. "Here so early?" Silas dropped the bag on the kitchen island.

He closed the distance, wrapping his arms tight around my waist, and showed me his screen. [ Was worried you'd be hungry. ] My eyes flicked to the logo on the paper bag.

It was from a hyperexclusive artisan bakery halfway across the city. Playing the part, I rewarded him with a quick peck on the lips.

While I was brushing my teeth, I scrolled through Twitter. A hashtag was trending at number one. [ BiancasSweetMorning ] I tapped it.

It was a perfectly filtered photo of a pastry and coffee. The caption read: "Thanks to a certain someone for the sweet morning delivery.

Starting the day full of energy!" Right before I closed the app, I zoomed in on the logo in her photo. It was the exact same exclusive bakery logo sitting on my kitchen counter.

A coincidence? Tch. Suddenly, I lost my appetite. When I stepped out of the bathroom, Silas was standing guard outside the door like a bouncer.

A dark restlessness vibrated off his skin.

Chapter 6 "Something on your mind?" Silas nodded, holding his screen right up to my face. [ I have to go to Boston next week. ] "Another errand for your advisor?" [ Medical stuff. ] I arched an eyebrow.

His thumbs flew across the glass. [ I found a specialist for my vocal cords.

They said there's a chance I might be able to speak again. ] I bit the inside of my cheek to stop myself from laughing right in his face.

I had been wondering how he was finally going to drop the act and come clean to me. And this was it? Seriously?!

I cleared my throat, forcing my face into a mask of pure concern. "That's amazing. Do you need me to go with you?" Silas's eyes darted away.

He typed frantically. [ No, focus on your work. ] [ I'm scared the surgery will fail. I don't want you there to see me heartbroken if it doesn't work. ] "Don't say that.

You'll be perfectly fine." Obviously. You have fully functioning vocal cords, you absolute fraud.

Still, keeping up the act, I threw in a completely hollow reassurance. "Even if it doesn't work, it's fine. I don't care." Silas actually looked touched.

He yanked me into a tight, suffocating hug.

Silas had to head back to his Ivy League frat house that morning, dragging out a reluctant, lingering kiss before finally walking out the door.

The second he left, my security alarm started flashing frantically. I yanked the door open. "Did you forget your…" A brutal, scorching kiss smashed my words back down my throat.

A disgustingly familiar scent of tobacco and expensive cologne suffocated me.

I shoved him back and wiped the back of my hand hard across my mouth. "Alistair, what the hell is wrong with you