I Slapped My Fiancé—Then Married His Billionaire Nemesis
Chapter 106 - 107 Two Hundred Million

Chapter 106: Chapter 107 Two Hundred Million

Savannah thumped her fist on a desk.

A mug jumped up, crashed to the floor with a thud that shut everyone up.

Violet turned to her. ‘You saw that, right? She panicked. She’s hiding something.’

I faced Savannah too. ‘For the last time, it wasn’t me.’

‘Enough!’ Savannah shouted again. She looked as if she’d aged ten years in as many minutes. ‘This whole mess started because someone copied a damn design. That’s the core of it. Who leaked it doesn’t matter. Violet Lin, you copied. That’s fact. Yes or no?’

‘I...’ Violet bit her lip. ‘I only did it for Nyx. I thought—’

Savannah slammed both hands on the table. Pencil holders rattled. One toppled, spilling half its contents.

‘We’re being shredded online! I had a whole launch planned after this! And you blew it! Now, fix it.’

‘H-how?’ Violet stammered.

‘How the hell should I know? Shouldn’t you have thought of that before you went ahead with your dumbfuck idea?’

Savannah’s phone buzzed on the floor. The vibration rattled on the tiles, loud and urgent.

She bent, snatched it up, swore when she saw the name onscreen, took a deep breath, braced herself, then hit answer. ‘Miss Holloway, I was just about to—’

Savannah pulled the phone away from her ear. Her mouth stayed open, but she didn’t get a word in. Just nodded, then muttered a string of apologies.

Her skin turned blotchy and red. She pinched the bridge of her nose. Her other hand tightened around the edge of the table until her knuckles went pale.

The caller didn’t hold back. I caught the muffled shouts even from two meters away.

Savannah kept nodding and mumbling apologies.

She hung up after five minutes. ‘That was Eliza’s agent. She said Eliza’s losing brand deals. A few already want to pull out. They think she’s bad press now. Contracts are being terminated. They’re demanding breach-of-contract compensation from us.’

‘What?’ Violet’s sobbing cut off. Her knees buckled. She half-sat, half-fell into the nearest chair. ‘How much?’

‘She didn’t say,’ Savannah muttered.

Violet swallowed, throat bobbing hard. ‘You’re not gonna make me pay all of it, right?’

Savannah didn’t answer.

That set Violet off again. ‘It wasn’t all my fault! If Mirabelle hadn’t leaked anything, none of this would’ve happened. She’s involved. She should pay too!’

‘You’re delusional,’ I said.

‘It’s you! If you’d kept your fucking mouth shut, none of this would’ve happened!’

‘Um,’ a girl raised her phone hesitatingly. ‘Someone just tagged Mirabelle. It’s Octavia Grey.’

I pulled out my phone. Notifications had already flooded the lock screen.

Octavia always walked the red carpet last. She had just stepped out, and every celeb post before her got swallowed.

Her PR team had done the usual grid dump—dress credits, styling breakdown, makeup brand tags. Same format Eliza’s people had used.

But then Octavia posted on her personal account.

It was a selfie from the dinner Ashton set up, with just her and me.

Caption read: ‘My jewellery plug @MVanceJewels (thumbs-up emoji, heart emoji, rose emoji).’

The comments exploded.

‘OG finally posted. She looks unreal!’

‘Who’s the girl next to her? Is she an actress?’

‘Jewellery designer, apparently. Her stuff looks good.’

‘Gorgeous and talented. Following immediately.’

‘OG always finds the best stuff. This is better than anything I’ve seen from the big names lately.’

I scrolled past a few more.

The follower count shot past ten thousand in a matter of seconds.

‘Mirabelle!’ Savannah’s voice cracked. ‘When you said you were doing pieces for someone, did you mean Octavia Grey?’

‘Yeah.’ I nodded.

‘Why the hell didn’t you tell me?’

‘I did, remember? Just forgot to mention her name.’ It felt premature to brag.

Savannah shot forward, grabbed my hand. ‘She’s way bigger than Eliza. If I’d known you were working with her, I’d have gone straight to her team myself.’

‘You didn’t need to.’

Violet interrupted, ‘Vanna, Mirabelle’s part of Nyx Collective. She’s not supposed to take jobs on the side.’

Savannah whipped her head around. ‘Shut it. You’re the one who fucked up. You dragged us into that mess.’

Violet’s face went blotchy. Her mouth opened like she wanted to talk back, but she didn’t. She stood there breathing through her nose, chest rising fast.

Savannah turned back to me, all smiles again. ‘Post something. Say you’re with Nyx. Just a quick tag. Let people know we’ve got talent.’

‘No.’

She blinked. ‘What?’

‘I said no.’

She gripped my hand harder. ‘Come on, Mira. We need buzz, especially now. Just this once. Do us a favour.’

I locked my phone and put it screen-down on the table.

‘She caused the damage. That’s not my bill to pay. Even if I post, even if people see I work here, what does that change? Violet still copied someone else’s design. People don’t forget that easily. All the post will do is show that I work with a plagiariser.’

Savannah stared at my phone, but she didn’t reach for it. She wasn’t Violet.

‘Mirabelle. You post it now, I’ll give you the Aureate slot. No contest. Straight to you. Deal?’

That gave me pause.

The Aureate Awards ran every two years. It was an international design competition with big-name sponsors and wide press coverage.

Spots were impossible to get unless you had brand backing. Nyx barely scraped one entry per round.

The last guy who made it in placed nineteenth, then vanished from our office two months later with a new job and a fat contract.

I tapped my nail against the phone’s edge. ‘If we’re going by merit, the spot’s already mine. Giving it to anyone else would be a waste. You know that.’

‘Come on!’ Savannah leaned in and whispered in my ear, ‘Please, I’m begging you.’

I didn’t move.

Savannah swore. ‘Fine. We’ll use the company account instead. Someone log in and repost Octavia’s tag. Make it clear Mirabelle’s ours.’

One of the admin girls grabbed her laptop.

She reposted Octavia’s tag through the Nyx Collective official account.

Comments trickled in, a few at a time.

‘Didn’t know @MVanceJewels worked at Nyx Collective.’

‘Don’t they have a designer who copied? @ElizaBlack.’

‘Doesn’t mean the whole company’s trash. It’s one person, not the whole brand.’

Savannah leaned over the screen, reading every line with her lips pressed tight.

She looked less ready to scream now.

Then Octavia posted again.

‘Loved working with @MVanceJewels. Custom piece, commissioned privately. No charge. Not connected to her company in any way. (smile emoji)’

Savannah’s face drained. She stared at her phone without blinking, then read it again. And again.

She didn’t speak for two whole minutes.

Then her ringtone went off.

Savannah picked up, listened, hung up, and dropped into the chair like someone had kicked her knees out.

‘That was Eliza’s agent. They want two hundred million in damages.’