I Slapped My Fiancé—Then Married His Billionaire Nemesis
Chapter 177 - 178 New Year’s Eve

Chapter 177: Chapter 178 New Year’s Eve

I headed upstairs and opened the first door I found.

A walk-in wardrobe.

The shelves were full. Not just stocked—stuffed.

Dresses, tops, sandals, a dozen different pairs of sunglasses.

All my sizes.

Every piece was something I’d actually wear.

I grabbed a pale green T-shirt from the rail and pulled on a pair of white trackies.

My hair was a mess from the flight, so I yanked it all up into a bun, tied it tight, and checked my reflection.

Casual. Clean. Sort of... annoyingly cheerful.

Whatever. Everyone at the airport looked like they were auditioning for a beach holiday.

I could try blending in for once.

Downstairs, I walked straight up to Ashton, spun once, then turned back around. ‘Well?’

He stared for a second too long. ‘You look good.’

Then he disappeared upstairs.

Ten minutes later, I heard footsteps.

I looked up and nearly choked.

‘Are you serious?’

He was wearing the same outfit. Same green shirt. Same white joggers. Same trainers, down to the stripe on the heel.

Ashton reached the bottom step and paused like he was on a runway.

His usual wardrobe lived somewhere between ‘funeral’ and ‘hostile boardroom’.

Mostly black, all tailored, all giving off power vibes.

Now he looked... younger.

Not in a weird Botox way.

Just... less uptight.

He cocked his head. ‘You’re staring.’

‘I’m adjusting,’ I said. ‘You walk down the street like that, people are gonna think you’re nineteen.’

He grinned. ‘That makes you what, sixteen?’

He flicked the tip of my nose.

I stepped back and scowled. ‘Why are you dressed like me?’

He shrugged. ‘Grabbed the first thing I saw. This was on top.’

‘Liar.’

‘Innocent,’ he said, already pulling me towards the front door. ‘Come on. Food.’

I let him hold my hand, but narrowed my eyes. ‘Aren’t you here for meetings or something? You walk into a conference room like that, no one’s going to take you seriously. Not unless you’re a tech genius.’

‘No meetings today. Might have one later. We’ll see. Right now—food.’

‘Fine.’

We waited nearly forty minutes for a table at the restaurant I picked, some influencer-hyped spot with plants hanging from the ceiling and tiny plates that looked like they’d been arranged by a drunk raccoon.

The food was bland as hell. No seasoning, no texture, no point.

Waste of a queue.

Somewhere between his second bite of undercooked sea bass and my failed attempt to chew through a mystery leaf, I heard the girls at the next table talking.

‘Midtown Crossing’s doing a countdown party tonight.’

My ears perked up.

Ashton caught it. ‘You want to go?’

I nodded. ‘It’s once a year. Might as well pretend we’re fun.’

‘Then we’re going.’

After we escaped the sad food experience, neither of us felt like heading back to the house.

We walked to a cinema instead and grabbed the last two seats for some horror film with a name that sounded like a prescription drug.

Inside was packed.

People were crammed together, arms bumping over armrests, popcorn spilling everywhere.

Ashton held onto my hand the whole time, kept me behind him when we queued, like I might get trampled by teenagers in denim jackets.

The film was trash.

Predictable, cheap jump scares, blood that looked like ketchup.

At one point, a zombie launched out of a wardrobe and Ashton actually flinched.

I burst out laughing.

He leaned in and muttered, ‘That’s not funny.’

‘You screamed.’

‘I didn’t scream.’

‘You absolutely did.’

He pinched my thigh, and I almost snorted my drink.

When we left the cinema, the sky was already dark.

The streetlamps were on, casting yellow light down the pavements, and my phone screen lit up as I scrolled for food.

‘Found another viral restaurant,’ I said. ‘This one looks better. At least their photos don’t feature edible foam.’ I looked at Ashton. ‘Will you trust me one more time?’

‘Lead the way,’ he said simply.

It was close to Midtown Crossing.

We headed that way.

As we crossed the street, three girls came barrelling toward us, still filming themselves on a selfie stick.

One of them smacked straight into me.

‘Oh my god, I’m so sorry!’ she blurted, yanking the stick down.

‘It’s fine. Just... watch it next time.’

She froze. Her eyes widened. ‘Wait. I know you. Aren’t you MVanceJewels? The designer? Mira Joie?’

The other two turned immediately.

‘No way!’

‘We follow all your posts. I love your sketches. I save every one.’

‘We bought your bracelets! Look!’

They shoved their wrists at me, stacked with identical bracelets.

I recognised my design. ‘Yeah, that’s me. Glad you like the pieces. Thanks for the support.’

The girl in the middle clapped once and actually bounced in place. ‘We don’t just like your stuff. We love your face. Briana’s obsessed with you.’

They shoved the smallest girl forward.

She looked like she wanted to crawl into the pavement.

Briana laughed nervously. ‘I just think you’re really pretty. Prettier than half the actresses on TV. When Octavia Grey posted that selfie with you, I followed you straight away. You look better in real life. You could totally be a beauty influencer. Or a model. Or an actress. You should go famous for real.’

She kept going. Rambling, flushed, beaming.

I stood there, slightly stunned.

For a second, I didn’t know where to put my hands.

Most of my followers on Instagram and X had only clicked ‘follow’ after Octavia tagged me in that viral photo.

My posts barely scraped thirty likes unless I showed a sketch or mentioned gemstones.

That one bracelet drop had gone semi-viral, but I wasn’t exactly a household name.

I never expected to run into real fans.

I gave Briana a quick grin. ‘That’s very sweet of you. Thank you.’

‘Can we get a photo with you?’ she asked hopefully.

‘Sure.’

I took a selfie with each of them and a group shot too.

They were loud and shameless about it, laughing, nudging, posing like we were all drunk cousins at a reunion.

We were standing on a busy street near Midtown Crossing.

Heads turned.

A few passers-by slowed down.

Someone asked, ‘Who’s she?’

More people wandered over.

I heard a guy behind me say, ‘Is that the designer from that bracelet post?’

And just like that, I was surrounded.