From His Wife to His Uncle's Wife novel Chapter 182

Back then, Juliana had been completely smitten with him. When they got married, he was sure there was no one else in her life. She wouldn’t have dared. Benjamin was just the guy who picked up the pieces afterward.

Patrick kept reading. “Well, look at that. Her husband’s loaded. And they’re already divorced?”

A flash of bitterness crossed Jessie Goff’s face. “Yeah, it’s over. She walked away with sixty percent of his money. She’s got billions now.”

Patrick always figured his daughter might have some money, but billions? That was a whole new level.

Billions. That kind of cash could clear his gambling debts and let him kick back and enjoy life for good.

“Alright. I’ll take her as my daughter!” Patrick burst out laughing.

“Thanks for the tip, Ms. Goff.”

Jessie let out a cold snort. “Whatever.”

She wasn’t doing this to help some old gambler. Someone like Patrick was beneath her, and she wanted nothing to do with him.

“Don’t try to contact me again. I won’t be seeing you. Do what you want with the information. That’s all I’ve got for you.”

With her bodyguards beside her, Jessie disappeared down the street.

Patrick watched her walk away, his eyes greedy, throat tight. Just wait. Once those billions were his, he’d get a taste of that high-society lifestyle too.

***

Eleanor’s life had settled back to its usual calm. She cooked dinner for Max every other night, but he was away on business this week so she got an extra day to herself. He’d even said maybe he’d sell her the apartment once he got back.

Leaving work, Eleanor noticed it was raining. She hadn’t brought an umbrella. She didn’t feel like squeezing onto the subway, so she ordered a ride. Twenty minutes later, she was still waiting.

She wasn’t in a rush. She scrolled through her phone and called Peter Clarkson. It was funny—she used to hate hearing from him, and now she almost looked forward to it. Or maybe she just liked the idea of seeing money land in her account.

Eleanor lowered her head and hurried to the car. Even after she got in, her heart was still racing.

“Last four digits of your phone number?” the driver asked.

“1129,” she said, catching her breath. “Thanks, let’s go.”

“Alright, 1129, we’re off.”

She glanced back at the sidewalk, but the man in black was gone. She promised herself she’d start leaving work earlier from now on.

She didn’t see him, standing under the trees, eyes cold and sharp under his cap, watching as her car pulled away.

“Eleanor,” he whispered quietly, “your real dad is back.”