Novelbox-22 Facebook ad: “He Changed the Groom, So I Married His Uncle”

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Chapter 1 On the eve of our wedding, my fiancé, Nathan Morrison, secretly altered the draft prenuptial agreement and the final wedding packet. Ans also, he replaced his own name with another one——Adrian Morrison. Nathan’s uncle. The youngest son of the Morrison family, and the one man Nathan never dared to challenge outright. One of Nathan’s friends stared at him in shock. “Are you insane? What if this blows up in your face? Stella has waited seven years for you. Half the Upper East Side already treats her like a joke.” Nathan only laughed. “You know I lost a bet to Sienna. I promised I’d do one thing she asked.” His tone was careless, almost bored. “Besides, it’s just a name on a document. I’ve already ruined my wedding with Stella ten times. What’s one more?” Sienna Rose was the girl he had brought back through the Morrison Foundation’s sponsorship program. Now, she was his private assistant. “When Stella sees the wrong groom’s name on the paperwork, she’ll panic and come running to me to fix it.” “But what if she’s foolish enough to let the whole wedding go through?” One of them asked “Adrian spends half his life in a wheelchair. He can’t give her a real marriage.” His smile turned sharper. “At the end of the day, Stella will still be mine. And I’ll have one more thing to hold over her.” His voice was light. The people around him burst into laughter. I stood outside the study for a long time. The warmth in my chest cooled, inch by inch. Then I turned, walked to the end of the hall, and poured the electrolyte drink I had made for him down the sink. Later, when my mom came to me in a panic with the altered paperwork, I only smiled. “It’s fine. Let’s go with what’s written.” This time, I did not go to Nathan and ask him to change the groom’s name back. The day we went to the Morrison residence to discuss the final wedding details, Nathan happened to be leaving for a weekend in the Hamptons with Sienna. I handed him my wedding invitation. He tossed it aside as if it were trash. “I’m not reading another apology letter from you. Bring me the diamond hairpin Sienna liked, and then I’ll think about forgiving you.” I did not explain. I only watched him leave. Later, on the day of my wedding, Nathan Morrison—the man who had always been so proud, so cold, so untouchable—stormed into the Plaza Hotel ballroom like a madman. “No! I’m supposed to be the groom!” “Stella, are you sure you don’t want to correct this?” My mother’s eyes were red. “Adrian has lived with that injury for years. Marriage to him won’t be simple. Are you sure this is what you want?” I felt guilty when I saw how worried she was. When she first learned that Nathan had finally agreed to go through with the wedding, no one had been happier than my mother. She knew I had waited seven years for him. She had watched me go from the Lawrance girl everyone envied when I first entered New York society to Nathan Morrison’s permanent fiancée, the almost-bride everyone whispered about behind closed doors. The day the Morrison family officially sent over the wedding packet, my mother cried the whole night. After that, she spent a month on calls with the couture atelier, the wedding planner, and the Plaza’s event director. Every fitting, every flower arrangement, every place card had to be perfect. She wanted me to walk into that ballroom with dignity. She wanted the entire city to see that I was still worthy of a beautiful wedding. But now, because of Nathan’s little joke with his private assistant, the groom’s name on the final papers had become Adrian Morrison. In that moment, all I felt was exhaustion. I looked at the name printed in black ink and said softly, “It doesn’t matter. He’s still a Morrison.” I knew I could not be reckless anymore. This was the tenth time Nathan had found a way to delay our wedding. And every excuse had been more ridiculous than the last. The first time, New York society had been on my side. People called him arrogant and cruel. The second time, the old-money daughters began to wonder if something had gone wrong between us. After that, little by little, everyone decided I must be the problem. They said I was too dull to keep a man. They said I had the Lawrance name but could not even hold on to my own fiancé. They said I looked respectable, but the Morrison family must have been tired of me long ago. Otherwise, why would Nathan, who had grown up beside me, keep refusing to marry me? When Nathan broke his promise the first time, I had thought about ending the engagement and finding someone else. But when my mother quietly reached out to other families, every invitation and gift came back with polite excuses. “Mrs. Lawrance, Stella is a lovely girl. But Nathan Morrison has already made it clear she belongs to him. No one in New York would dare challenge the Morrisons over that.” After a pause, the person had added in a lower voice, “And with Miss Lawrance’s reputation dragged out like this for so many years… marrying into the Morrison family may be the only respectable ending left.” My pale fingers rested on the name Adrian Morrison. At last, I knew I had let go of Nathan. I would become Mrs. Morrison. Just not the Mrs. Morrison he expected. Chapter 2 When Mrs. Morrison, the Morrison family matriarch, learned that I would be marrying Adrian Morrison instead of Nathan, she was stunned. But Adrian was her youngest son. He had spent years in a wheelchair after the accident, and she had always known that before the accident, he had treated me differently from every other girl. After speaking with Adrian privately, she agreed to the marriage. She even added several gifts to the original wedding arrangements. My mother explained quietly, “Adrian asked for these himself. He said he wanted you to have security of your own.” I looked at the gift boxes filling the Lawrance sitting room and nodded. They had come from the finest jewelers in New York, couture bridal houses, and private auction rooms. Emerald earrings. An antique diamond brooch. The use of a Morrison beach house in the Hamptons. A charitable foundation interest transferred into my name. Every item was elegant and impossible to fault. The wedding moved forward quickly. Then, one afternoon, someone unexpected came to visit. Nathan Morrison. He wore a deep violet custom suit, gold cufflinks at his wrists, his hair swept back perfectly. He looked pleased with himself, almost entertained. And beside him stood Sienna Rose. I knew exactly what he believed. He thought I still had not discovered what he had done to the paperwork. When I ignored him, Nathan did not seem bothered. He walked straight into the Lawrance sitting room, picked up the coffee cup I had just set down, and finished what was left in it. “Everything's ready for the wedding?” “Yes.” My answer was too calm. Something flickered across Nathan’s face. He did not like that. But he still leaned against the table with that careless arrogance I knew too well. “Really? You checked them by yourself?” He counted on his fingers, as if teasing a child. “The guest list. The invitations. The prenup.” Then he looked straight at me. “The groom’s name.” He paused, waiting for my face to change. “This is your wedding, Stella. You might want to be a little more careful.” I pretended not to hear the bait in his voice. “The lawyers have reviewed everything. So has the planner. If that’s all you came to ask, you can leave.” Nathan’s expression finally cooled. He stared at me for a moment, as if he had never heard me dismiss him before. Then he smiled faintly. “That’s a new tone.” I did not answer. After a pause, he said, “Actually, there is one more thing.” I looked up. His gaze fell to my wrist. I was wearing an emerald bracelet. It had been passed down through the Morrison family for generations. Seven years ago, Nathan had put it on me himself. “That bracelet was my mother’s,” he said. “It belongs with the Morrison bride.” His tone was not angry. It was worse than that. It was entitled. “You still haven’t married into the family. So for now, I’ll need it back.” I froze. I had been sixteen when I received that bracelet. That day, sunlight had fallen through the plane trees in Central Park. Nathan had come to find me with a secretive smile. The moment he saw me, he slipped the bracelet around my wrist. The emerald was vivid and clear, surrounded by small diamonds. Even then, I knew it was priceless. I panicked and tried to take it off, but he held my wrist tightly. “My mother left this for my future wife.” Young Nathan had looked at me then, smiling brighter than the sun. “So keep it, Stella.” Only later did I learn that the bracelet had come from his mother’s side of the family. It was an heirloom reserved for a Morrison bride. When Mrs. Morrison found out he had taken it from the family vault, she was furious and scolded him for it. But Nathan had said with perfect confidence, “I’m going to marry Stella anyway. She’ll wear it sooner or later.” Seven years passed. The bracelet had become part of my life, the same way Nathan once had. I had thought it was a promise. Now I understood. It was only something he believed he had the right to take back. Seeing my silence, Nathan assumed I was refusing. Before he could speak, Sienna tugged lightly at his sleeve. “Nathan, don’t.” Her voice was soft, almost embarrassed. “Miss Lawrance has worn it for so many years. Asking for it now feels cruel.” She sounded considerate. But her eyes never left the emerald on my wrist. The hunger in them was too obvious to hide. Nathan turned to her at once. “I told you I’d let you try it on.” Then he looked back at me, impatient now. “And no matter how long Stella has worn it, it’s still a Morrison heirloom. It belongs to my family, not her.” So that was why he had come. He wanted the bracelet for Sienna. I understood. I did not argue. I just undid the hidden clasp and slid the bracelet off my wrist. “Here.” Nathan went still. For the first time that day, the arrogance on his face cracked. He had expected me to fight, to cry, to ask him why. But I only looked at him calmly. “You’re right. It belongs to the Morrison family. Since I never became your wife, I shouldn’t keep wearing it.” Nathan did not look pleased. He looked unsettled. He took the bracelet, his fingers brushing over the emerald as if he had suddenly remembered something. After a moment, he said, quieter than before, “On our wedding day, I’ll put it back on you myself.” Sienna’s face tightened. I watched Nathan hand the bracelet to her as casually as if he were passing over a trinket. Then, just as he turned to leave, I called after him. “Nathan.” He stopped. I looked at him evenly. “Since I’ve returned your family’s bracelet, I’d like the sapphire cufflinks back.” Nathan’s expression changed. Seven years ago, I had given him those cufflinks myself. The sapphires had come from a piece of jewelry my grandmother left me. I had them reset for him. Nathan used to wear them every day. He said they were his lucky charm. Now those words felt like something from another lifetime. “You took back what belonged to your family,” I looked at him and said, “now return what belongs to mine.” Nathan stared at me. “You want the cufflinks back?” His voice dropped, cold and sharp. “Stella Lawrance, are you trying to punish me? Or are you trying to end this wedding?” Chapter 3 For a moment, I almost laughed. Who was the one who had been ending this wedding, again and again, for seven years? But I swallowed the question. I still wanted to keep the last of my dignity. I would not become one more woman in New York society begging a man to explain why he had humiliated her. So I only said, “I’m saying the same thing you said. Family things should go back to the family they came from.” Nathan’s jaw tightened. Then he reached for his cuff, pulled off one sapphire cufflink, and tossed it toward me. “It’s old anyway.” The cufflink landed on the carpet with a soft, dull sound. Nathan’s mouth curved with contempt. “Maybe it was time I replaced it.” After saying that, he took Sienna’s hand and walked out. I did not follow. I only bent down and picked up the cufflink. My fingertip brushed the fine crack along the edge of the sapphire. A scratch left by glass. When Nathan first received that pair of cufflinks, he had treasured them. Back then, he had not yet become the man who left me waiting at engagement parties, wedding rehearsals, and charity dinners. He wore one of those cufflinks close to his heart every day, as if he wanted all of New York to know it had come from me. Then, one afternoon, he got into a car accident on his way back to Manhattan from the Hamptons. His sports car slammed into a guardrail. The windshield shattered. Metal and glass tore through the front of the car. Everyone thought Nathan Morrison would either die or be disfigured. But he just sat there in shock for a long time. Then he reached into the inside pocket of his suit jacket and took out the sapphire cufflink, still warm from his body. It had stopped the sharpest piece of glass from piercing his chest. Later, he knelt in front of me and held me so tightly his voice shook. “Stella, you’re my lucky star.” “Without you, I would’ve died in that car.” “I swear I’ll protect you with my life.” Back then, we were inseparable. He called me Star. He said I was the one star he could always find, no matter where he was. But later, even that name disappeared. He never called me Star again. All because Sienna Rose once said with red eyes that Stella and Sienna sounded too similar. She said hearing it made her feel like a poor replacement. From then on, Nathan mostly called me by my full name. Especially when Sienna was there. Stella Lawrance. Cold and formal. Like I was someone he wanted to keep at a safe distance. “Miss Lawrance.” Mia’s worried voice pulled me out of the past. I handed her the sapphire cufflink. “Have it sold.” Mia froze. “But you had these made for him yourself. And the sapphires were your grandmother’s…” I smiled faintly. “That was a long time ago.” After that, Nathan did not come looking for me again. There were only four days left until my wedding to Adrian Morrison. That day, my mother brought me to the Morrison townhouse to discuss the final wedding details with Mrs. Morrison. It was also the first time I formally met Adrian. He sat in a custom black wheelchair, wearing a perfectly tailored dark gray suit. His face carried the faint pallor of someone who had been ill for a long time. But his features were striking in a way that almost felt sharp. Deep-set eyes. A high, straight nose. Pale lips. He sat there quietly, yet there was nothing defeated or pitiful about him. Mrs. Morrison looked at him with rare gentleness. “Adrian, the camellias are in bloom. Why don't you take Stella to the garden?” I answered softly and stepped forward to push his wheelchair. Behind the Morrison townhouse on the Upper East Side was a private garden almost never opened to outsiders. White camellias bloomed along the stone path. The air carried a clean, cold fragrance. At first, I was tense. There were too many rumors about Adrian Morrison. People said he had become withdrawn after the accident and rarely saw anyone. They said that after stepping back from public life, he had become a shadow the Morrison family preferred not to discuss. Some even said that although he was alive, he could no longer be a husband in any real sense. Only after meeting him did I realize how foolish those rumors were. Adrian was witty, steady, extremely well-read. No matter what I mentioned, he could answer. The latest art auction in New York. The most debated piece in the Met’s new exhibition. Even the wedding dress silhouettes and jewelry settings currently favored by Upper East Side brides. He spoke of all of it with ease. The tension I had carried for days slowly softened under his quiet humor. “Wow. I didn’t think you would care about things like this,” I said before I could stop myself. Adrian lifted his eyes to me. There was a faint smile in them. “Being out of the room doesn’t mean being out of the world.” I paused. Then I laughed with him. It was the first real laugh I had allowed myself in days. As we talked, I suddenly felt a sharp gaze on me. Nathan stood beneath the garden colonnade. I did not know when he had arrived. His dark eyes were fixed on Adrian and me. In his hand was a gold-foil invitation. I recognized it at once. It was the wedding invitation sample Mrs. Morrison had just approved. On the front, the names were printed clearly. “The Morrison Family requests the honor of your presence at the marriage of Adrian Morrison and Stella Lawrance The Plaza Hotel, Saturday evening ”

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He Changed the Groom, So I Married His Uncle