I Slapped My Fiancé—Then Married His Billionaire Nemesis
Chapter 214 - 215 Farce

Chapter 214: Chapter 215 Farce

Caroline hesitated, then changed tack. ‘Could you talk to Ashton? Ask him to go easy on your dad?’

I didn’t bother hiding the irritation in my voice. ‘Get to the hospital first. We’ll talk if you show up.’

‘Alright, alright. We’re on our way.’

The moment I ended the call, I messaged the precinct. Told them to send officers to the hospital immediately.

Twenty-five minutes later, they arrived. Caroline, Preston, and Serenna stumbled in looking washed out and twitchy.

They pushed the door open.

The first thing they saw wasn’t me.

It was four uniformed cops standing near Cade’s bed.

Caroline froze. Her knees buckled. She grabbed the doorframe for balance.

‘Mirabelle...’ she said through clenched teeth. ‘You tricked me.’

I stepped out from behind the officers. ‘I said I’d consider it. Never said I agreed. And now I’ve changed my mind.’

Her mouth worked for a second, then clamped shut.

Preston shoved past her. He pointed at my face, already red and loud. ‘Ungrateful brat. You lied to us! Took your own father to court! You don’t see us as family at all, do you?’

‘You’re the ones who never treated me like family. I’ve got nothing more to say. You didn’t hit me. You hit someone else. Whether he forgives you or not’s not up to me.’

From the bed, Cade raised his voice on cue. ‘I don’t. I make my money with this face. You lot nearly cracked it open like a melon. Officers, I want charges. Maximum penalty. No mercy.’

Caroline pleaded, ‘Officers, this is all a misunderstanding. Nothing serious. We can settle it privately, no need to trouble you.’

The cop in charge shrugged. ‘The victim refused to drop the complaint. You three need to come down to the station. Assault’s one thing. Fleeing the scene’s another. You’ll have to be questioned first.’

Caroline’s hands twitched at her sides. ‘We didn’t run. We came here voluntarily. We’re turning ourselves in. That should count for something, right?’

The officer raised an eyebrow. ‘You turned yourselves in... at a hospital?’

The second officer snapped a pair of cuffs onto Preston. The third one started reading rights.

No one looked at me as they were led out.

***

Once I’d finished dealing with that farce, Ashton made a quick call to Dominic, then made for a different floor.

I trailed behind him, keeping pace.

Through the glass panel in the door, I caught sight of Reginald lounging against a stack of white pillows, laughing at something on the TV.

His bare feet stuck out from under the blanket, and he was holding an apple, half-eaten, the skin still wet near the bite marks.

‘What’s wrong with him?’ I asked, tilting my head for a better look. ‘He doesn’t look remotely unwell.’

‘He’s faking,’ Ashton said.

He pushed open the door.

Still staring at the screen, Reginald waved a hand. ‘Gwen, you can leave. The nurse’ll sort everything. No need for you to hang around.’

No one answered.

A few seconds later, he looked to the door and froze.

Ashton stood in the middle of the room, watching him.

The apple slipped out of Reginald’s hand and dropped to the floor.

It rolled a short distance before stopping against Ashton’s shoe.

Ashton lowered his gaze to it, then looked up again.

Reginald’s throat bobbed.

‘You—what are you doing—’

‘Dad.’ Ashton smiled wider. ‘Thought I’d check in. Heard your back’s been giving you trouble. Doesn’t all that sitting hurt?’

His voice was smooth, relaxed, almost lazy.

Reginald, however, flinched like someone had just opened a window in January.

He blinked fast, grabbed at his lower back, and collapsed theatrically onto the pillows. ‘Christ, my spine—can’t sit five minutes without agony. Appreciate you coming, though. Been swamped with meetings?’

Ashton took a step forward. Then another. He stopped at the edge of the bed and leaned down, pressed his fingers into Reginald’s lower back.

‘Ow! Bloody hell!’ Reginald howled. ‘You trying to paralyse me?’

Ashton pressed down harder on the man’s lower back without blinking.

Reginald howled again and squirmed like a stuck pig.

‘What are you doing? Have you lost it?’ he shouted.

‘You look far too comfortable to be in pain,’ Ashton said coolly. ‘Thought I’d help you feel it properly.’

Reginald shot upright, face blotchy and furious. ‘I’m not faking it! Why would I fake an injury? Who in their right mind checks into a hospital for fun?’

‘You’re not in your right mind,’ Ashton said.

Reginald’s face flushed deeper. ‘I didn’t fake anything! You’re talking rubbish!’

Ashton ignored that. ‘Doesn’t matter. Your back’s fine. That little stunt won’t delay your flight. Get packed. You’re leaving for Africa.’

‘No, I’m bloody not!’ Reginald flung himself backwards, dragged the duvet over his head, and went limp. ‘I can’t even stand, let alone get on a plane!’

‘You think I can’t make you go?’

Reginald peeked out from under the covers, his tone suddenly soft and coaxing. ‘Ashton, son, I’m your father. You can’t treat me like this. Let me rest. It’s freezing here. Let me go sometime in June, yeah?’

‘You hate the cold? Good. It’s warm in Africa. You’ll be toasty.’

‘I’m not talking about the bloody weather!’ Reginald snapped. ‘My joints are shot. Can’t you let me enjoy my retirement like a civilised old man?’

‘You’re in your prime, not in a coffin. And it’s back pain, not a terminal illness. I’ve just funded three hospitals over there. You’ll be cured before jet lag sets in.’

Reginald let out a furious puff and shoved his face into the pillow. His voice came out muffled and petulant. ‘I’m not going. End of.’

Ashton looked back at the door. ‘Come in.’

Dominic walked in. ‘Mr Laurent.’

He nodded at me.

The footsteps behind him weren’t subtle. Heavy, synchronised.

Reginald peeked out like a hunted rodent. Four men followed Dominic inside. Tall, broad-shouldered, all in black suits that barely held together over their arms.

Reginald’s voice shook. ‘What—what the hell is this?’