I Slapped My Fiancé—Then Married His Billionaire Nemesis
Chapter 189 - 190 Explanations

Chapter 189: Chapter 190 Explanations

I said, ‘Got it,’ and ended the call.

The dining table was set. Cutlery straight, wine cold, plates steaming.

I stood there for a second, then dropped into the chair and started eating.

Three bites in, I gave up.

Everything tasted flat.

I left the rest, grabbed the remote, and collapsed on the couch.

Thirty minutes passed.

I couldn’t remember a single thing I’d watched.

When I looked up, Tom and Jerry was playing on mute.

I let out a short laugh. Nothing funny, really.

I got up, brought out the cake, and set it on the table.

I took a small spoon from the drawer and dug in.

The sponge was soft, not overly sweet, with a tart glaze that cut through the richness.

Better than anything I’d cooked tonight.

After a few bites, I flipped to some new drama people had been shouting about online.

Ten minutes in, I still couldn’t tell you what the plot was.

The wall clock ticked past nine.

Ashton still hadn’t shown.

I thought about going upstairs.

But that photo kept flashing through my head.

I wanted answers.

I wasn’t going to sleep without them.

I curled up on the couch and kept one ear open for the door.

I must’ve drifted off.

When I woke up, the lights were still on.

Carmen stood near the sofa.

She sighed. ‘You should go upstairs.’

‘I’m fine here.’

‘At least let me put something on your hand. You burned it earlier making that soup.’

I lifted my hand. ‘It’s fine. Doesn’t hurt much anymore.’

Carmen swallowed whatever else she wanted to say.

She draped a blanket over me, muted the TV, dimmed the ceiling lights, and slipped away.

I went back to sleep, though not fully.

The door clicked open and I stirred.

The wall clock read just past eleven.

He pulled up short in front of the couch.

‘What are you doing down here? I told you not to wait up.’

He stepped closer, bent down, and reached for me.

I pulled back before he could touch me.

He frowned. ‘What’s wrong?’

I sat up. My arms were cold. ‘Where were you tonight?’

‘A friend’s mum had a health scare. He just got back to Skyline, doesn’t know the hospitals. ER was overwhelmed, so I moved her to a private clinic and stayed until she was seen. He’s helped me out before—I owed him.’

He sounded steady. No stammering.

If he was lying, he was a damn good actor.

I gave a short nod. ‘Is she stable now?’

‘Yeah. She’s alright.’

He sat beside me and pulled me into his chest. ‘Sorry. I was meant to be here.’

‘It’s fine.’ I pushed out of his arms and stood. ‘Where were you last night?’

He paused for half a second. ‘Dinner. A few old mates.’

I walked to the coffee table, picked up my phone, and pulled up the photo.

I turned the screen to him.

‘That you?’

The image was dark, grainy.

He squinted at it, confused for a second, then recognition kicked in.

‘Yeah... that’s me,’ he said finally. ‘But it’s not what it looks like. We weren’t even that close—someone caught it from a weird angle.’

I held his gaze. ‘So you really were with Rowan last night?’

He straightened. ‘It was a dinner. A group dinner. There were other people with us. Someone on her left, someone on my right. Whoever took this cropped everyone else out.’

I turned back to the screen. ‘You had dinner in a hotel?’

‘It’s The Atlas Room. Eighteenth floor, Somerset Hotel.’

‘I didn’t know The Atlas Room is open till midnight.’

‘It isn’t. The picture’s been colour-adjusted. It looks like it was late, but it wasn’t. Peak dinner hours. The place was packed, lights were bright.’

I’d heard of The Atlas Room.

Polished crowd, glossy wine glasses, imported tile floors.

Expensive, but not secretive.

I believed him. About the dinner. About the photo.

But I didn’t believe there was nothing else under it.

Even if nothing had happened last night, that didn’t mean Rowan wasn’t the one he kept parked at the edge of his thoughts.

After all, he didn’t tell me about the dinner, wouldn’t have mentioned it now if I hadn’t asked.

Something stabbed at my chest.

It took some effort to keep my voice even.

‘If you’ve got feelings for Rowan, you can just tell me. I’d rather hear it straight—’

‘I don’t.’ He cut me off before I could finish.

His hand closed around mine, sudden and tight. ‘I don’t have feelings for her. We’re just friends.’

He didn’t let go of my hand.

Then he yanked out his phone with his free hand, tapped fast.

I caught a glimpse of the message before he sent it.

It was to Dominic Everett.

[Pull the front entrance CCTV from The Atlas Room around 8 pm last night.]

He faced me again.

‘It was a classmate from Wessexia. It was his mum who had an emergency tonight, by the way. We haven’t seen each other in years. He said a few of the old group were getting together for dinner. Rowan was going to be there too. He told me that upfront. I didn’t care. She’s just someone I used to know. I didn’t think it mattered.’

His grip hadn’t eased. The inside of my palm had started to sting.

‘There were six of us. They were waiting when I got there. That photo... whoever took it had to be standing near the entrance. We were just walking in. I wouldn’t have even realised she was next to me if I hadn’t seen the picture. And I didn’t mention it before because it didn’t register as important. It was dinner. That’s all. I said maybe five words to her.’

His hand tightened again. The bones in my fingers pressed together.

I didn’t pull away.

I just watched his face.

The tension in his shoulders, the short drag of his breath, the way he kept holding on like letting go would make it worse.

If this was all fake, he’d missed his calling as an actor.