I Slapped My Fiancé—Then Married His Billionaire Nemesis
Chapter 136 - 137 The Boss’s Wife

Chapter 136: Chapter 137 The Boss’s Wife

The phone rang to the last second before I picked up.

‘What do you want?’ My voice came out flat, because I wasn’t in the mood to pretend.

I’d blocked Caroline’s number, Preston’s number, Catherine’s, Serenna’s.

I’d even set my phone to filter all unknown calls.

But one number slipped through.

Franklin called me so rarely that I forgot I even had his number.

He jumped straight into damage control. ‘Mirabelle, sweetheart, we just got out. Total misunderstanding, that whole thing. I wanted to apologise—’

‘If that’s it, I’m hanging up.’

‘No, no, wait—’ His tone flipped like a switch. ‘I was thinking, if you’re free, maybe come home for dinner sometime?’

He said ‘dinner’, I heard ‘trap’.

‘You actually think I’d sit down and eat with your lot again?’

Silence. Then some pathetic throat-clearing. ‘That was all in the past. This time we’ll treat you right, promise. Proper welcome and everything.’

He hesitated, then added, ‘You didn’t even tell us about the wedding. Not a word. We missed the whole thing. Bring Ashton when you come, yeah? Would love to meet my son-in-law.’

‘Not happening.’

‘I get it, you’re busy. But surely you can spare an hour for a meal—’

‘I’ll think about it.’ I ended the call without waiting for his reply.

Then I blocked his number.

I tossed my phone on the breakroom counter and stared at the coffee I’d just made.

It had gone lukewarm while I listened to that bullshit.

I didn’t bother drinking it.

The office felt strange today.

Everyone was too cheerful.

Since Ashton showed up, people who barely said a word to me before were suddenly offering me snacks and flashing fake smiles.

The desk across from mine—where the loudest gossip usually started—had sent over a basket of snacks before lunch.

Full of imported chocolates and air-popped crisps I didn’t even like.

The ones I used to actually speak to? They’d started acting awkward. Polite. Careful.

I tried to focus on my sketches, but every few minutes, I could feel someone watching me.

But the second I looked up, everyone was buried in their screens like I’d imagined it.

I dragged Zara into the breakroom and shut the door behind us.

‘Alright, spill. Why is everyone acting like I walked in with a bomb vest?’

Zara groaned and dropped into a chair. ‘Mira, babe, you’re married to the CEO of LGH. Your husband is our boss’s boss. You think people are gonna slack off next to the boss’s wife? Everyone’s terrified you’ll report them if they even blink too long.’

‘That’s insane. I’ve got my own work to do, I’m not spying on anyone.’

She narrowed her eyes. ‘Swear you’re not snitching?’

‘Swear on my favourite ring. Jesus, I don’t even care if you lot take a three-hour lunch break.’

Zara grinned. ‘You say that, but no one else believes it. They’re all sitting up straight like schoolkids. I’m the only one with a death wish, apparently.’ She straightened and stretched. ‘Anyway, if you’re not gonna rat, I’m off to “check the supply closet” for forty-five minutes.’

I watched her leave, then went back to my desk.

The tension was still thick.

Nobody spoke.

The sound of a chair scooting across the floor was so careful it may as well have been staged.

It was ridiculous.

I couldn’t breathe in that atmosphere, let alone work.

If this carried on, I’d lose my mind before I finished a single sketch.

So I stood up, walked straight to Savannah’s office, and pushed the door open without knocking.

She jumped up from her chair like she’d been waiting for me. ‘Mirabelle! Come in, come in!’

She hurried over, smiling like we were best friends.

She even pulled the chair out for me, which had never happened before.

I sat down and got to the point. ‘Vanna, I need to talk to you about something. I think—’

‘Mirabelle, darling, I was just going to look for you. You’re the boss now. Which means you can’t keep cramming into the open office with the others. I’ve sorted a private space for you. They’re cleaning it now, should be done. Come, let’s go have a look.’

‘A private office?’

It might help.

People out there might actually relax if I wasn’t breathing down their necks.

But I liked the noise. The chatter.

Moving into some quiet cave didn’t exactly thrill me.

Savannah kept nudging until I followed her.

The space used to be storage. Now it was spotless. The floor shone. Not a speck of dust.

But all it had was a single desk and one stiff-looking chair.

‘It was last-minute,’ she said quickly. ‘Give me three days and I’ll furnish the rest. Just bear with it.’

I glanced around. The room was small, the walls close. One narrow window faced a brick wall. No light came in.

On a grey day, I’d need the overhead fluorescents even at noon.

She must’ve caught my face. ‘There’s no other room available right now. If you hate it, take mine. I’ll swap.’

I waved her off. ‘No need.’

She exhaled.

‘Look, you sitting out there with the team—it’s too much for them. They’re all on edge. You’ve noticed it, haven’t you?’

‘I have.’ I nodded. ‘That’s actually why I came to talk to you. See if something can be done about it.’

‘You having your own office is the solution. You’re the boss. So act like one.’

‘I’m not the boss.’

‘The boss’s wife.’ She shrugged. ‘Potaytoes, potahtoes.’

I hadn’t planned to be the boss of Nyx Collective.

But Ashton bought it.

And now everyone looked at me like I was supposed to have airs and a stick up my arse.

The room was still dim, even with the overheads on.

A few days in here and I’d lose the will to keep my eyes open, let alone design anything.

But I couldn’t boot Savannah out of her space either, so I agreed to stay. For now.

After she left, I sat down.

The air felt thin. My shoulders tightened.

I couldn’t focus on anything except how badly I wanted to leave.