Awakened by My Ex's Uncle

For Astrid Prescott, her twenty-sixth birthday held extraordinary significance.

Her boyfriend, Oliver Montgomery, knew how much she had been anticipating this day. He had mysteriously told her to wait at the venue, promising a surprise. Astrid hadn't mentioned that she, too, had a surprise waiting for him.

Warm light from crystal chandeliers bathed the grand hall. As the birthday celebration for the heiress of a prestigious jewelry family, Cypress Bay's elites had been arriving steadily.

Astrid checked the time again. It was thirty minutes until the party officially began, and Oliver was still nowhere to be seen. He wasn't answering her calls or responding to her texts.

"Astrid, don't worry. Traffic must be terrible right now," her best friend, Rachel Wilson, reassured her before standing up. "I'm going to the restroom, then I'll help you greet the guests. As the guest of honor, you can't hide in here all night."

"Alright," Astrid replied softly.

As the bathroom door clicked shut, Astrid noticed Rachel's phone screen light up on the table. She reached over to pass it to her, but her hand froze mid-air, her expression twisting in disgust.

In a group chat, someone had posted several photos of her, followed by a crude comment: [This woman is super sexy. Her body is so hot it's making me thirsty.]

Another message quickly followed: [This gentleman says he's going to find a way to sleep with her tonight, then tell us how good she is in bed.]

A wave of nausea hit Astrid. Just as she was about to look away, her pupils contracted sharply. The next message came from an account with Oliver's avatar.

Astrid instinctively tapped the screen to enlarge it. When she saw the username, her breath hitched.

Oliver: [Guys, better keep some tissues handy—for your drool.]

A: [Oliver, livestream it. I'm begging you.]

B: [Oliver, you're the man! When you're done with her, maybe pass her around for a taste?]

Oliver: [Back off. What's mine is mine!]

C: [Do you guys even know who she is? You're talking pretty big.]

Oliver: [She's my girlfriend! None of you gets a chance until I'm done with her.]

Astrid's fingers trembled with sheer rage. She quickly typed on Rachel's phone: [You're crossing the line!]

Throwing the phone back onto the table, she shoved the lounge door open. She couldn't believe that Oliver, who had played the devoted boyfriend for three years, was so perverted and vile behind her back. Letting other men evaluate her like a piece of meat!

An arranged marriage between the Prescott and Montgomery families had initially made her hesitant. But Oliver, three years her junior, had pursued her relentlessly, even winning over her friends. Unable to resist the pressure, Astrid had reluctantly agreed. For three years, he had worn the mask of the perfect partner.

Astrid stormed out of the venue, wandering the streets with no destination—she only wanted an escape.

In her haste, she had forgotten her coat. The flickering neon sign of a nearby bar caught her eye. Drowning her sorrows didn't seem like a bad idea tonight.

She pushed the heavy doors open. The deafening bass matched the chaotic pounding in her chest.

Approaching the bar, Astrid ordered the strongest drink on the menu. The fiery liquid burned her throat as she downed it, bringing tears to her eyes.

Why cry over a scumbag? Today was her birthday. She deserved better. Even if her love life was a joke, she wouldn't let it ruin her career.

The Prescott family had a closely guarded secret. On their twenty-sixth birthday, the women of the bloodline would awaken a gift—the power of absolute authentication—but only after their first intimate encounter. With this ability, they could instantly verify the authenticity of any gemstone by touch.

Thinking of the ruthlessly competitive dynamics within her family, Astrid's gaze sharpened. She needed a man tonight.

Her presence had already drawn stares. Several men approached, but they were either too old or too sleazy. None met her standards.

Then, in the dim lighting of a corner booth, she spotted him.

He wore a tailored black suit, the top two buttons of his crisp white shirt casually undone. He leaned back against the leather seat, long legs crossed, slowly swirling the amber liquid in his glass. He exuded the dangerous aura of a lone wolf.

Not far away, a group of women whispered excitedly. One finally gathered her courage and began walking toward him.

Watching this, Astrid's blood boiled with sudden determination. He's the one.

Moving quickly, she intercepted the woman, purposefully brushing past her shoulder, and slid into the seat right beside the man.

"Honey, please don't be mad anymore. Let's just go home, okay?" Astrid's voice was honey-sweet as she blinked up at him.

The strong alcohol was already hitting her system. While she still had her wits about her, she needed to secure him fast.

The other woman stared at their intimate display in shock before retreating in defeat.

The man glanced at the retreating figure, then down at Astrid, who was practically pressed against his chest. His voice was smooth but dangerously cold. "What did you just call me?"

Ignoring the question, Astrid batted her innocent eyes. "It's too loud in here. Let's go somewhere private."

Yielding to the alcohol, she let her soft body slump against his shoulder, feigning unconsciousness.

The man stiffened, attempting to push her away, but she clung tight. Looking down, he saw her eyes were closed. He couldn't tell if she was faking it or genuinely blacked out. But leaving a woman in this state in a dive bar was a guaranteed disaster.

His expression unreadable, Silas Montgomery scooped Astrid into his arms and strode out of the bar, heading straight for the luxury hotel upstairs.

The hotel staff recognized him immediately. Seeing the woman in his arms, they hesitated only a second before rushing to open the penthouse door.

Silas carried her inside. Just as the heavy door clicked shut behind them, Astrid's hand moved.

Before he could drop her onto the bed, she grabbed his collar, pulling him down with her into the soft mattress.

Soon, the room was consumed by intense heat and passion.

Astrid had gotten exactly what she wanted.

Lying in the tangled sheets, her body aching, she was just formulating a plan to sneak away from Silas when a violent pounding echoed from the room door.

"Astrid! Open the door! Someone saw you come in here!"

Oliver's voice. How the hell had he tracked her down?

The lingering fog of alcohol vanished instantly. Before she could even confront him about his disgusting betrayal, the bastard had the nerve to come hunting for her.