Seductive Pet: My Abstinent Uncle's Long-Term Scheme

The rain in New York seemed determined to drown the entire city.

Summer stood outside the revolving doors of a five-star hotel, her hand tightly clutching a crumpled wedding invitation.

Groom: Julian Foster. Bride: Vanessa White.

How ironic. Just three days ago, Julian was still saying affectionately over the phone that he would take her to Bali for her birthday. In the blink of an eye, he was holding an engagement banquet with Summer's best friend in this magnificent banquet hall.

"Summer, face reality."

Julian walked out with his arm around Vanessa, looking at Summer who was in a pathetic state in the heavy rain. There was no hint of guilt in his eyes, only the impatience of having his fun interrupted. "Vanessa is pregnant; I have to give her a name. As for you... the Foster family will give you a compensation fee. Don't pester me anymore."

Looking at this face that had once made her heart flutter for three years, Summer suddenly felt a wave of nausea.

"Compensation fee?" Summer sneered, wiping the rain off her face, her eyes clearer and colder than ever before. "Julian Foster, I wish you a hundred years of harmony and a son soon."

She turned and rushed into the curtain of rain.

She didn't go home, but went directly to the most mysterious and intimidating place in New York—the Foster family's ancestral mansion.

In the Foster family, there was only one person who could handle Julian.

That was his own uncle, Silas Foster.

The rain grew heavier.

A black Maybach slowly drove toward the mansion, and the heavy iron gates slowly opened.

Summer suddenly rushed out from behind the trees and stood straight in front of the car.

"Screech—!"

The ear-piercing sound of brakes was particularly startling in the silent rainy night.

Summer was soaked to the skin, her thin shirt clinging to her body, outlining her graceful curves. Ignoring the driver's angry shouts, she walked directly to the rear window and banged hard on the glass.

The window rolled down slowly.

A rich but cold scent of cigar smoke drifted out.

The first thing Summer saw was a pair of bottomless eyes. Those eyes seemed to have been soaked in ice and snow for years; just one look made her feel like her breathing was about to freeze.

That was Silas Foster.

The man who held the power of life and death in the Foster family, and even the economic lifeblood of New York.

"Summer?"

His voice was deep and magnetic, with a sandpaper-like texture, yet without any emotional fluctuation.

"Mr. Foster." Summer endured the trembling of her whole body, her hands resting on the car door, staring straight at him. "Julian Foster betrayed me; he's going to marry Vanessa White."

Silas took a light puff of his cigar, the sparks flickering in the darkness. "So? You came to me to cry?"

"No."

Summer took a deep breath, as if she had made some kind of decision, her voice clear and resolute:

"I want to ask Mr. Foster, do you need a wife? The kind that can make Julian Foster kneel down and call me Auntie."

The car fell into a deathly silence.

The cigar in Silas's hand stopped at his lips.

He slowly turned his head, those sharp eyes seeming to see through Summer. He reached out, his cool fingertips lifting her chin, the movement full of dangerous aggression.

"Summer, do you know what you're saying?"

He leaned over, his breath pouring onto her cheek, with an intense sense of pressure.

"Want to use me, Silas Foster? The price, you can't afford it."

Summer held her breath, her heart beating so fast it was about to break through her chest, but she didn't back down.

"As long as I can make him regret it, I can afford any price."

Silas stared at her eyes, which were sparkling with anger and stubbornness, and a faint curve actually appeared at the corner of his mouth.

"Very well."

He let go of her and instructed the driver in front in a cold voice:

"Let her in."

The rain became even more violent. Summer, soaked to the skin, stood before that black Rolls-Royce like a lily ravaged by wind and rain.

The window rolled down slowly, revealing a face with immense visual impact.

Silas Foster.

The current head of the Foster family, Julian Foster's biological uncle. Rumor had it that he was solitary and cold, staying away from women, making him the most difficult mountain to climb in New York's socialite circles.

"Summer?" The man's voice was deep and magnetic, like it had been soaked in rich red wine.

"Uncle." Summer spoke, her voice carrying a hint of trembling, though she didn't know if it was from the cold or the shock.

"Where's Julian?" Silas's long fingers rested on the window sill, his gaze deep as he stared at her.

"He's proposing to another woman." Summer curled her lips in self-mockery, a flash of determination in her eyes.

She took a step forward, her hands gripping the car window, looking at him with burning eyes: "Uncle, do you need a wife? The kind that can drive Julian Foster to death."

The air inside the car instantly froze.

The driver in the front seat held his breath, not daring to make a sound.

Silas stared at her, his gaze as sharp as a blade, as if wanting to see through her soul.

"Summer, do you know what you're saying?"

"I know." Summer took a deep breath, rain sliding down her cheeks. "Julian humiliated me, so I want to be his elder. Silas Foster, if you marry me, you'll have an even better chance at the Foster family's next generation inheritance rights, won't you?"

Silas suddenly let out a soft laugh. That smile didn't reach his eyes; instead, it made one feel cold all over.

"Want to use me?" He suddenly reached out, gripping the back of her head and pulling her close until their noses almost touched. "Summer, the price is something you can't afford."

Silas Foster's aura was dominant and cold, like a fine net wrapping Summer tightly.

"What price?" Summer met his gaze stubbornly.

"Once you enter my door, don't even think about leaving for the rest of your life." Silas's voice was exceptionally clear amidst the sound of the wind and rain.

"Fine." Summer didn't hesitate for a moment.

Compared to being humiliated by that scumbag Julian Foster, she would rather sink into darkness by the side of this devil, Silas Foster.

Silas stared at her for a long time, finally letting go, his tone returning to its usual indifference: "Get in."

Summer stumbled around to the other side and sat in the back seat.

The heater was on in the car, but she felt even colder.

Silas casually tossed over a clean towel. "Dry yourself."

"Thank you."

Throughout the journey, neither spoke again.

Summer looked at the neon lights receding rapidly outside the window, her heart as cold as ash. She knew how crazy a decision she had made, but she didn't regret it.

The car finally stopped in front of a villa on the mountainside.

This was Silas Foster's private territory; except for servants, no outsiders had ever set foot here.

"Tomorrow morning at nine, bring your household registration." Before getting out of the car, Silas dropped these words coldly.

Summer was stunned. "Where to?"

"The Civil Affairs Bureau."

The man's back disappeared into the entrance. Standing in the rain, Summer suddenly felt that this high-stakes gamble had only just begun.