Stripper's Love: I Married My Ex's Uncle

Solene

“You’re joking, right?” My voice trembles as I scan through the paper in my hand. The words Petition for Divorce are written boldly across the top.

My eyes sting with unshed tears as I stare at my husband. He stands across the living room with his arms crossed over his chest, like a stranger, not the man I fell in love with.

“Sign them, Solene. It’s over.”

It’s over. I repeat the words in my head. They sting worse than all the slaps my drunk father ever gave me.

“No…” I whisper slowly, more to myself. “I can’t believe this. Rowan, what is this?” I ask, with a trembling voice.

“Exactly what it looks like,” he says through clenched teeth.

“But… Why? I’m your wife,” I whisper.

“You should have thought about that before spreading your legs for someone else.”

He tosses a manila envelope onto the table. It slides open, and photos spill out. My knees weaken as I sink onto the couch, reaching for them with shaking hands.

“No… no, no, no way. This isn’t me!” I shake my head, staring at the photos of me in bed with another man.

“These are fake, Rowan. This can’t be me. Rowan, you, of all people, know I would never sleep with another man. This has to be forged!”

The words tumble out in a rush. My knees hit the floor as my trembling hand reaches to hold his leg, my lips quiver, desperate for him to look into my eyes. But he yanks his leg away.

“I saw evidence of your cheating, but I didn’t believe it. Now it’s glaringly obvious. What was I thinking?” His voice drips with bitterness.

“You’re nothing but a stripper who fooled me into thinking you’d changed. My mother warned me. She said you were just a stripper looking for a meal ticket. I damn well should’ve listened to her.” He slams his fist into his open palm.

My vision blurs. A strangled scream rips from my throat. “How did it come to this?”

I was once a stripper. Not by choice, but by survival. I did it to pay my mother’s hospital bills, settle my father’s gambling debts, and keep my younger brother in school.

Every night, I danced under blinding lights for strangers, and I forced back tears while men’s eyes stripped away the last of my dignity. I was humiliated countless times, touched without consent, and violated in ways I still can’t say aloud. Yet somehow, I always came back alive, but shattered.

Rowan paid off all my debts and even bought the club where I worked. For the first time, I saw hope. I thought my nightmare was finally over. I was truly grateful. But he began to remind me, again and again, that I owed him everything.

He belittled me at every chance, threw insults at me, and made sure I never forgot where he found me. He said he loved me, but his love came with chains. Still, I stayed. Still, I loved him, with everything I had. Wasn’t that enough?

I stare at him now, as my chest tightens. God, where did I go wrong?

“I gave up everything for you,” I whisper, with a shaky voice. “I gave up on my dreams because you wanted me to be the perfect wife. For five years, Rowan. Five whole years I believed you saved me, and I thought…” My words die in my throat.

I crawl toward him, my fingers trembling as I clutch at his leg. “Please, Rowan. Don’t do this to me,” I sob, with a breaking voice. “Where do I even start from now? I have no one. My mother’s medical bills are piling up, she’s only alive because of you. Please…”

He jerks his leg away, his eyes are cold and unforgiving.

“Don’t fucking touch me with your filthy hands,” he growls.

“Filthy hands?” I whisper, pulling my hand back and staring at it in disbelief. “You didn’t find me filthy when you made love to me every night.”

Rowan’s lips curl into a cold smile. “Did you think I touched you because you managed to melt my heart? Hell no, Solene. You were supposed to give me a child, as a wife should. But no, you can’t bear any, can you? Because God only knows how many abortions you’ve had in the past.”

His words stab straight through me. My chest tightens so hard I can barely breathe.

“You know what?” he continued, with a sharp, cruel voice. “A woman like you doesn’t deserve to be a mother.”

I gasp, my throat closing up. “What… what would you do if I ever got pregnant for you?” I whisper, dreading the answer even before it comes.

“I would never let you raise my heir,” he says through gritted teeth. “My mother would have raised him.” Then he turns and storms out of the room, leaving me shattered.

I stare after him, my mouth trembling. With shaky hands, I crawl on my knees toward the scattered photos. “This isn’t me,” I mutter, tears streaming down my face. My gaze falls on the divorce papers lying on the floor. My hands tremble as I pick them up and flip through the pages.

He’s already signed them.

Of course, he has. Rowan made sure everything was set against me.

I let out a heart-wrenching sob, and it echoes through the empty room. My whole body shakes as reality sinks in.

How did it ever come to this?

***

I know I can’t hold on to what’s already lost. I curl up on the side of the bed, and I let the tears stream down my face. But even through the pain, one thought burns in my chest, I won’t let this destroy me. I will fight.

Slowly, I push myself up and walk to the door. Just as I reach for the handle, it swings open.

Marcella stands there, perfectly composed, her lips curved in that cruel little smile I’ve come to hate. She’s the very definition of a mother-in-law from hell, she is controlling, manipulative, and heartless. She’s insulted me at every turn, dictated my access to money, and threatened to stop my mother’s medical treatments more times than I can count. And she never misses a chance to remind me that I’m “infertile.”

She tilts her head, studying me like I’m something stuck to the bottom of her designer heel.

“The company gala is today, you’ll look your best and smile for the cameras like everything’s perfect between you two.”

She narrows her eyes. “He wasn’t supposed to give you the divorce papers today, but gosh, my son really does think through his anus.”

She adjusts the pearl necklace around her throat, with a calm unbothered look, as if my life isn’t crumbling in front of her.

“You’ll play your role, Solene. Because if you don’t…” Her smile hardens. “I’ll make one call, and your mother’s treatment ends tonight.”

I suck in a sharp breath.

I know better than to challenge Marcella Brooks. She’s the queen of poison wrapped in silk. People don’t cross her, and those who do never live to tell the tale.

I swallow hard, and I lower my gaze. “I’ll be ready in five minutes,” I whisper before turning back toward my room.

I don’t know why they want me at the company's gala. But deep down, I can feel it; whatever happens, there will be a change in my life forever.