Stand Me Up? I'll Marry His Billionaire Uncle novel Chapter 13

A sharp crack rang out as Sean's hand struck Sunny's cheek.

"How dare you!"

Her face jerked to the side, a hot, stinging pain blossoming on her skin. For a moment, she just stared at him, her gaze unwavering.

"Why wouldn't I dare?" she shot back, voice steady. "What exactly am I supposed to be afraid of?"

"He doesn't love me. I don't want to marry him. Is that so wrong?"

Sean's chest heaved with anger. "Love? You think love matters here? Do you have any idea what's at stake right now? The company is on the brink, Sunny! If you just do as you're told and marry into the Lawson family, we'll be saved."

"If you refuse, then we can only sit and wait for bankruptcy."

Sean had never had a son—two wives, both gave him daughters. The younger one was sweet, always knew just what to say to please him, and had a bit of backbone too.

But his eldest? Stubborn as a mule.

Sunny's lips curled into the ghost of a smile. "Then let it all go under."

It was already a sinking ship. Might as well let it sink.

"Afterwards, I don't need anyone's help. I'll get a job and support you myself."

Sean nearly doubled over in rage. "Save it. Your salary wouldn't even cover my daily expenses!"

"Sunny, you'd better think this through. If it weren't for the engagement between our families, do you really think the Lawsons would ever let you marry in?"

Sunny gave a soft, sardonic laugh. "In that case, maybe you should let Chloe take my place."

Chloe's eyes went wide. "Oh, you'd really go that far?"

Sunny just clicked her tongue, done with the conversation. She grabbed her bag and left without another word.

—

Outside, Tristan was leaning against his car, idly smoking. When he saw her coming, he stubbed out the cigarette and tossed it into the trash.

As she drew closer, he noticed the angry red mark standing out against her fair skin.

Tristan's jaw tightened. Suddenly, he grabbed her and all but shoved her into the passenger seat.

"Be as disgusted as you want. But breaking up? Not happening."

He slammed on the gas, the car tearing off into the night.

Sunny shot him a cold sideways glance. His lips were pressed into a hard, thin line—he was clearly in a foul mood.

She almost laughed. What right did he have to be angry?

"I don't have a death wish. Slow down, or I swear I'll call the police."

Out of the corner of his eye, Tristan saw how pale her lips were, remembered her complaining about her stomach earlier, and eased off the accelerator. The car slowed.

When they arrived, Sunny shoved the door open, climbed out, and stomped upstairs to the guest bedroom, slamming the door behind her.

Tristan followed, hovering outside her door for a moment before heading to a separate room. Neither of them went near the master bedroom; it was a silent agreement.

Sunny rubbed her aching stomach, forced herself to respond to work messages, then glanced at the calendar, reviewed next week's case, and finally shut her laptop.