Trading My Ex for His Uncle



Valarie figured the woman Brandon mentioned was probably just a stand-in Damon had found to replace Nyla.

She didn't care how Damon regained his memory after losing it for five years-what he was doing was clearly an insult to Nyla. She wasn't going to let this go easily.

Brandon wasn't surprised by Valarie's reaction. After all, if someone suddenly told him that a person who had been dead for

years was still alive, his first reaction would be disbelief too.

"Valarie, I'm not joking. I really-" he tried to explain.

Before he could finish, the call ended abruptly. When he tried to call back, he saw that the line

was busy. Brandon frowned, thought for a moment, and

turned his car around. He drove straight to Valarie's place. Since she didn't believe him, he was going to take her to see Nyla himself.

After hanging up, Valarie tore off her face mask and took several deep breaths to calm herself down. She quickly changed into an outfit and drove off. Not long after leaving her house, she passed Brandon's car. While he noticed her, she didn't see him-her eyes were fixed coldly on the road ahead. Just the thought of Damon finding a replacement for Nyla made her feel as if a fire were burning inside her, threatening to consume her completely. Her speed increased, and she paid no attention to Brandon, who was honking his horn furiously behind her.

Less than an hour later, Valarie's red sports car screeched to a stop in front of Damon's villa.

Fueled by rage, she got out and rang the doorbell repeatedly. Her expression was stormy as she pressed the doorbell repeatedly.

The doorbell's chimes echoed through the villa, even reaching Damon in his study.

He stepped out and saw Lydia heading for the door.

"Who's at the door?" he asked, his voice cold.

Lydia looked puzzled. "I don't know. I was just about to check."

The doorbell kept ringing while they spoke.

"Never mind. I'll go," Damon said.

Lydia was older now and not as quick as he was. By the time she answered the door, the doorbell would probably wake Nyla and Mason. When Damon opened the door and saw Valarie standing there, his expression turned icy. He recognized her as the Weir heiress.

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Every time they met, she was full of sarcasm. If she weren't the person Brandon liked, he would have dealt with the Weirs long ago. What was she doing showing up here in the middle of the night?

Damon spoke with a scowl. "Ms. Weir, if you're sick, I can call the psych ward for-"

Before he could finish, Valarie slapped him across the face and glared at him.

"Damon, I don't know how you got your memory back, but you're not innocent when it comes to Nyla's death. How dare you find someon who looks like her, keep her by your side, and even let her use Nyla's name?!" she demanded. Original content from NôvelDrama.Org.

Damon's expression turned icy, and an intense, intimidating aura surrounded him.

"Do you have a death wish?" he gritted through his teeth.

This crazy woman actually dared to hit him. Not even Brandon begging on his knees could make him forgive her this time!

Just as Brandon pulled up, he saw Valarie slap Damon.

Terrified, he quickly got out, pulled Valarie behind him, and said frantically, "Uncle Damon, Valarie didn't mean it. She just acted impulsively because of a

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misunderstanding. I apologize on her behalf."

Damon's eyes held no warmth. "Is your apology supposed to mean something? Brandon, this is none of your business. I suggest you leave immediately."