I Slapped My Fiancé—Then Married His Billionaire Nemesis
Chapter 152 - 153 Rhys’s POV: Married Misery

Chapter 152: Chapter 153 Rhys’s POV: Married Misery

‘Who was that?’ Rhys asked the moment Catherine stepped inside.

She didn’t answer right away. Just shut the door and fussed with her scarf like it was stuck.

‘The woman in the car,’ he said. ‘You pulled up nearly half an hour ago. Just now decided to come in?’

‘She’s a friend.’

‘Then why didn’t you invite her in?’ He moved towards the window. The woman was getting into another car. ‘She looks familiar. Have I met her?’

‘Don’t think so.’ Catherine slid past him. ‘You’re home early. Not busy at the office?’

Nice try. ‘And you’re home late. You’re seven months in, Catherine. What the hell are you doing out driving? The doctor said bed rest. Mum’s told you to stay put.’

She didn’t respond. Just kept walking.

He followed her into the dining room.

Louisa was already seated, eating quietly.

Willow was glued to her phone.

Clive wasn’t home.

Same old picture.

Catherine reached across the table. ‘Willow, pass the salt?’

Willow shoved the pepper shaker closer without looking up.

Rhys sat down. ‘You need to take this seriously. Running around like this—it’s not good for the baby.’

Catherine tightened her grip on her fork and stared at her plate.

‘She needs rest,’ Louisa said, not looking up. ‘If she loses the baby, it’ll be her own fault.’

No one corrected her.

Rhys used to.

He used to get in the middle of these rows.

Ever since that car-crash of a wedding, it had been non-stop.

When Catherine’s real identity came out, things only got worse.

Clive had demanded an annulment.

Said Catherine tricked Rhys under false pretences, that she was never the Vances’ daughter.

Louisa nearly had a second heart attack.

She kept repeating how she’d known something was off and that Mirabelle would’ve been the better choice.

Maybe Rhys had been stubborn.

Maybe he’d wanted to prove them wrong.

Or maybe he did love Catherine. Not the idea of her—the actual woman.

Whatever it was, he’d defended her. Loudly.

In the end, the pregnancy had silenced everyone.

That, and Clive’s paranoia about the public finding out.

They buried the story.

Catherine stayed.

But lately... lately Rhys found himself saying less.

Especially when Louisa brought up Mirabelle and made her comparisons.

It wasn’t that he agreed, exactly.

It was just hard to deny the facts.

Mirabelle had built something at Nyx.

Now she had her own studio.

She kept working, even after marrying Ashton Laurent, a man even Rhys had to grudgingly admit was richer and more powerful than himself—not that he’d ever admit it out loud.

Catherine had quit the day she found out she was pregnant.

She’d never taken the job of being Rhys’s secretary seriously anyway.

And now she spent her time shopping and having tea with friends.

And then there was her so-called half-brother, always calling, always asking for money.

He claimed it was for his sick father, but Rhys knew better.

How was he supposed to defend any of that?

So he didn’t.

After dinner, once Willow vanished upstairs and Louisa started wiping down the table, Catherine drifted into the living room.

‘Did you see the news?’ she asked, hovering near him. ‘Mirabelle’s getting dragged online. Apparently, she refused to work with some struggling actress. People are calling her a snob.’

Rhys glanced at her. ‘Really?’

She handed him her phone. Her nails tapped against the screen. ‘It’s all over. Look at the comments.’

He scrolled. Harper Foster. That name rang a bell. ‘That’s who she turned down?’

Catherine nodded. ‘Thinks she’s above regular clients now.’

‘Doesn’t sound like her. She took every job at Nyx. She cares about her work. Wouldn’t turn someone away without a reason.’

He handed the phone back without meeting her eye.

She locked it sharply.

He stood to fetch his coffee, but paused. ‘Wait. Harper—was that the woman I saw you with earlier? In the car?’

‘No,’ Catherine said too fast.

‘Really?’

‘Really.’

He didn’t press her.

In his study, he sat down and opened Instagram.

Mirabelle’s latest post mentioned ‘The Aureate Awards – Preliminary Qualifier’.

He almost left a comment. Didn’t.

A knock at the door.

Catherine stepped in. ‘Rhys, can I talk to you?’

‘What about?’

She hesitated. ‘Jace.’

And there it was. He bristled. ‘He wants money again? How many times have I told you to say no to him? He’s living at my penthouse, eating my food, and now he wants me to fund his gambling habit? Cathy, you’ve got to put your foot down. He’s your half-brother. That doesn’t make him your problem.’

Her face flushed. ‘I know, but he’s all the family I’ve got left—’

‘And I’m not your family? Mum, Dad, Willow—none of us count?’

‘Do they see me as family, Rhys?’ she snapped. ‘Really? Your father looks at me like something the cat dragged in. Your mum never shuts up about dear Mirabelle. Your sister acts like I’m invisible. And you—’

Her eyes dropped to his phone, screen up on the desk.

She was across the room in two steps and snatched it off the table. ‘You’re cyberstalking Mirabelle. Rhys. Seriously?’

He snatched his phone back. ‘I’m not stalking her.’

‘Then why were you on her profile?’

‘Just checking up—’ He trailed off.

No good excuse came.

So he snapped instead. ‘Mind your own business, Cathy. At least Mirabelle’s got a career. She’s not mooching off anyone. And she’s not enabling some parasite of a brother. You, block Jace’s number. Get back to bed. Are you trying to kill the baby, jumping around like that?’

He stormed out.