From His Wife to His Uncle's Wife novel Chapter 37

Eleanor always thought Max was the type you couldn’t get close to, the kind of man who’d leave you frozen just by looking your way. But actually meeting him was nothing like she expected. He wasn’t cold at all. In fact, he seemed… almost playful sometimes.

She couldn’t figure it out. Everyone said he was impossibly self-controlled, the untouchable type. So why did he keep helping her? It was weird, but Eleanor was realistic. She didn’t flatter herself. There was no way he was interested in her.

At least the rest of the car ride had been quiet. She didn’t have to force a conversation with someone so intimidating. When the car pulled up in front of her apartment, she mumbled, “Thank you, Mr. Clarkson.”

Max looked at her and nodded, barely moving. His tone was just as distant as ever. “You’re welcome.”

Eleanor stepped out and let out a breath she didn’t realize she’d been holding. The air felt lighter, easier to breathe. Back upstairs, she washed up and finally checked her phone. Missed calls from Peter—again. She ignored them, just like always. Instead, she finished editing the audio she’d recorded, uploaded it with her backup account, and set it to post at three in the morning. Once that was done, she turned off her phone and crawled into bed.

Tomorrow could deal with itself.

…

Jessie and Peter left the party that night feeling totally defeated.

Peter had tried to connect with the main branch of the Clarkson family, but Max was already gone by the time he tried. Hunter barely gave him the time of day, so he spent the whole night on the sidelines.

Jessie’s night had somehow been even worse. She got called out as a homewrecker right to her face, things with Katie turned weird, and Eleanor had the last word. She was in a foul mood.

“Take me home tonight,” she snapped.

She had no intention of going back to the family house, didn’t want to see her mother-in-law, and definitely didn’t need any more drama.

Peter hesitated, then just nodded. “Okay.”

The car ride was tense and silent, both of them stewing in their own thoughts. Once home, Peter yanked off his tie and tossed it on the sofa, rubbing his forehead.

Autumn came downstairs, eyes full of anticipation. “Peter, how did it go? Your brother’s memorial is soon. Will anyone from their side show up?”

“Mom,” Peter cut her off, his voice tired and impatient, “there’s no way they’ll come to the memorial.”

“Mom, you have to understand, Grandpa was just the illegitimate son. Getting any real recognition from the family is basically impossible.”

He called her five times. She didn’t answer any of them.

She was really starting to act out, thinking just because she was pregnant she could do whatever she liked. Peter made up his mind. Tomorrow, he’d have his assistant dig deeper. He refused to believe he couldn’t track her down.

…

While everyone slept, no one realized that the quiet little audio clip Eleanor posted was about to blow up the internet.

Jessie had passed out drunk, phone switched off. When someone yanked the covers off her the next morning, she shot up, groggy and furious.

“Who is it? Are you out of your mind? Can’t you see I’m sleeping?”

Her hair was a mess, her face puffy, the stale scent of last night’s alcohol clinging to her. She looked nothing like the polished Jessie from the night before. But when she finally opened her eyes and saw the man standing at her bedside, she gasped, pulling the blanket up to her chin. “Peter? Why are you here? How did you even get into my room?”

“Get up,” Peter said, his face grim. “Check your phone. The recording of you and Eleanor from last night is all over the internet.”