I Slapped My Fiancé—Then Married His Billionaire Nemesis
Chapter 141 - 142 Ashton’s POV: She Deserves It

Chapter 141: Chapter 142 Ashton’s POV: She Deserves It

Ashton entered the study first and walked straight to the leather chair behind the desk.

He didn’t speak. He didn’t look up. He unlocked his phone, scrolled, tapped something, and stayed quiet.

Franklin hovered near the centre of the rug, hands twitching at his sides, eyes darting around like he couldn’t decide whether to sit or stay upright.

Eventually, he stayed standing.

Ashton kept scrolling.

Franklin cleared his throat.

No response.

‘I know Mira’s been... distant,’ he started, his voice thin. ‘She probably told you stuff about us. Some of it is true, I admit. But we raised her. She’s got a temper, sure, but she’s our daughter. Watching her do well now... it makes me proud.’

Ashton’s eyes flicked up, then dropped back to the screen.

Franklin kept going, his tone sliding into something meant to sound sentimental. ‘She hardly comes home these days. I miss her. Her mother does too.’

The corners of Ashton’s mouth twitched.

Franklin perked up a little, mistaking it for warmth.

He launched into a nostalgic spiel about Mirabelle’s childhood, a few half-hearted regrets, a few humblebrags.

The company had taken up his time, the weight of a thousand employees on his shoulders, but he’d done his best.

And now that Mirabelle was married to Ashton, she was in good hands.

Still, as her father, he’d like to provide something. Anything.

If only the company weren’t in such a precarious state...

He trailed off when all he got back was silence, and a sore throat from talking too long.

He was still standing; Ashton hadn’t offered him a seat.

Franklin shifted his weight. Tried again.

‘About that project Mr Maxwell used to handle... I was wondering who’s overseeing it now—’

Ashton dropped the phone onto the desk with a soft thud.

Franklin stopped mid-sentence.

‘So all that touching nonsense about Mirabelle, that was just the warm-up. You are not here for her. You’re here to sniff around for contracts.’

Franklin stiffened. ‘Of course I’m here for her. She’s my daughter. The project’s... well, a secondary issue.’ He smiled ingratiatingly. ‘But we’re family now, right? Families help each other. Might as well keep it in the family.’

Ashton gave a short, humourless laugh.

‘Let’s not waste time. I brought you in here because I didn’t want to humiliate you in front of her downstairs. That doesn’t mean I’ve got patience for you. And you’re not family.’

Franklin’s forehead had gone slick. Sweat clung to his temples, slid down his cheek.

He stammered. ‘But... but you married my daughter—’

‘And she’s a legal adult. She doesn’t owe you a thing. Neither do I. If you’ve got some grand play lined up, now’s the time to use it.’

Franklin faltered.

Then, fist clenched behind his back, he tried one more time.

‘I know I wasn’t always the best father. But I was working. I was trying to give her a future. That house, her school, the business—it was all for her. And no matter what, she’s still my daughter. Family fights don’t last forever—’

‘That’s still the script you’re using?’ Ashton said coldly. ‘I married Mirabelle, not your entire circus. Keep your nephew Preston and your wife’s niece Serenna away from her. She forgives too easily. I don’t. Try anything, and I’ll make sure every door in Skyline slams shut on your family. You, Preston, Serenna—none of you will last a week. To me, you’re nothing. The only reason you’re still standing here is because you are her biological father.’

Contempt flashed in Ashton’s eyes as he said the last two words, but Franklin didn’t notice.

He stood blinking, chest heaving lightly, his fingers locked tight around the hem of his jacket.

Ashton found the sight revolting.

A father who couldn’t even recognise his own child, who poured resources into a nephew while his daughter got nothing.

It disgusted him.

Franklin opened his mouth, shut it again.

What was there left to say?

Ashton’s attitude couldn’t have been clearer.

He turned to leave.

‘Stop.’

Franklin halted mid-step.

‘Who said you could go?’

He turned back, slower this time. ‘Is there something else?’

‘Mirabelle’s your daughter. You never raised a hand to protect her, never gave her a thing she didn’t have to fight for. That ends now. I don’t care what you piss away on your nephew, but Mirabelle gets her share of the inheritance.’

Franklin’s lips pulled tight. ‘I’m not dead yet.’

‘You will be. And I don’t trust your conscience to grow a spine before then.’

Franklin scoffed, shedding the last traces of performance now that he knew sentiment wouldn’t work. ‘She’s got you. She doesn’t need anything from me.’

‘Needing and deserving aren’t the same. I’m telling you to draft a new will. Everything you own, everything in your wife’s name, all of it goes to Mirabelle.’

‘I can’t do that.’

‘You can. Do it and keep using the money until you croak. Or refuse, and I’ll bleed you dry long before then. You won’t even need a will.’

Franklin’s mouth twitched. ‘I have another daughter. Catherine.’

Ashton’s lip curled. ‘Are you certain about that?’

Franklin frowned, confused.

‘I’m not negotiating. And don’t bother shuffling assets out of the country or handing them off to Preston behind her back. I’ve got eyes on you. They know where to look. Try and remember what happened to Vance Overland when it got flagged for tax evasion.’

Franklin stared. ‘That was you?’

‘No. That was the IRS. But someone gave them a little nudge.’

‘I need time.’

‘Take it. Just don’t assume I’ll wait.’

Franklin left without another word.

Ashton pulled out his phone.

‘Send the paternity test results. Anonymous delivery. Both Franklin and Caroline Vance.’