I Slapped My Fiancé—Then Married His Billionaire Nemesis
Chapter 216 - 217 Gone

Chapter 216: Chapter 217 Gone

‘You don’t get to tell me who she is,’ he said coldly.

‘Ashton! You can’t be serious!’ she shrieked. ‘We’re your family. She’s no one! You’re letting some gold-digging little brat twist you around her finger! You think she’s sweet, but she’s manipulative. She uses your name like a badge and your money like her own. That design competition? Please. Everyone knows she won it because of you.’

‘Enough!’ I wished there was something I could throw at her. ‘When I entered that competition, no one knew who the hell I was. Not as Ashton’s wife. If I wanted to rig it, I’d have needed a name to flash, and I didn’t use his. You think I throw Ashton’s name around in public? Fine. Name one time. Where? When? Who heard it?’

She stared at me, blinking. Her lips twitched like she wanted to come up with something, but all she did was exhale through her nose.

‘You’re quick with rumours, but you choke on facts. Don’t waste your breath trying to make up stories about me. Go find a comedy club. Might as well get paid for it.’

She gaped at me, her mouth flapping uselessly, but no sound followed.

She turned back to Ashton.

‘I’m saying this for your own good,’ she said desperately. ‘You have no idea what she’s planning. She could be after your money, your company, everything!’

‘Are you done?’ Ashton said.

‘No, I’m not done! You better take what I said seriously!’

He nodded. ‘Then go on.’

‘That woman, she’s shallow, she only cares about—’

‘Keep going,’ Ashton said. ‘Every word adds another year to my father’s time in Africa.’

Gwendolyn froze.

Reginald choked on air.

Silence dropped.

Reginald lunged and slapped a hand over her mouth. ‘Shut it. Just shut the hell up.’

Gwendolyn flailed a bit, then squeaked, ‘I didn’t mean anything by it. I’ll stop talking.’

‘Let me make it simple,’ Ashton said calmly. ‘From now on, every time you say something I don’t like, or pull some stunt I didn’t authorise, my father’s ticket home gets delayed another year. Do the maths. Figure out how many idiotic things you can squeeze in before he drops dead over there.’

‘Ashton—’ Gwendolyn started, panic sharp in her voice.

Reginald slapped his hand over her mouth again. ‘We won’t say another word. About anything. Especially not Mirabelle. Never again. She’s family. We love her. Like a daughter.’

He turned to me with a forced smile.

‘Truly. Like our own.’

When Ashton’s shoulders eased just slightly, Reginald let out a breath and rubbed his palms together.

‘Ashton, listen...’ he started, voice syrupy. ‘You’ve come all this way to see me. Look at all these outsiders cluttering the place. Don’t you think it’s better if we clear the room and just have a proper father-son chat?’

‘About Africa...’ Ashton dragged it out.

I watched Reginald’s face twitch with hope like an idiot unwrapping a present he’d already peeked at.

‘You’re still going.’

Reginald stiffened. The colour drained from his cheeks.

He started coughing, hand to his chest like he’d been punched.

‘Can’t we... negotiate?’ he wheezed.

‘You can walk out or be wheeled out. Those are the only options.’

Heavy, dragging steps thudded down the hall.

A short while later, Edouard Laurent appeared in the doorway, hunched, cane digging into the floor.

A nurse hovered beside him, one arm hooked under his elbow.

He looked half-collapsed already, sweat beading under his grey hair, lips pale, breathing ragged.

Even his hospital gown hung lopsided on his frame, like it couldn’t be bothered to cling to someone so close to expiry.

‘Ashton,’ Edouard rasped, ‘this is disgraceful. He’s your father. You’re behaving like a goddamn thug—’

‘Grandpa, you’re not well. You should stop talking. And you’re old. Stay out of this.’

The old man stiffened.

His knuckles tightened around the cane.

‘I’m tired,’ he muttered, and turned around before even crossing the threshold.

‘Dad!’ Reginald shouted after him.

Edouard didn’t look back.

Ashton looked down at Reginald. ‘Have you decided?’

Reginald didn’t lift his head. His voice came out hoarse. ‘I’ll go.’

‘Good.’

Ashton flicked a look at Dominic, who snapped to attention and motioned to the four men by the door.

They closed in on Reginald without a word.

One of them took his suitcase.

Another opened the door.

Reginald didn’t resist. He just let them walk him out like a convict on his final stroll.

The room emptied in seconds.

Gwendolyn dropped onto the mattress, spine bent, face pale.

She looked like a wind-up toy that had finally stopped ticking.

Ashton didn’t let her catch her breath.

‘I’ve noticed you’ve had a lot of free time lately. You’ll be staying home from now on. No shopping. No luncheons. Your cards are frozen.’

Gwendolyn stared at him, her mouth slightly open.

‘The house allowance? Gone. Since Grandfather’s in hospital and my father’s going to be deep in the jungle, the staff’s being cut. If you want to keep your driver, your chef, your cleaner, pay them yourself. Oh, and your year-end dividends from LGH? Cancelled.’

Her head snapped up. ‘What?’

He didn’t repeat it.

Her eyes rolled back.

She tipped sideways and collapsed onto the mattress, limbs stiff, face slack.

Ashton and I looked at each other.

I asked, ‘Did she just pass out?’

‘Looks like it.’

I turned and bolted for the hallway, found a nurse halfway down and waved her over.

She brought a doctor and two more nurses.

All four rushed in, crowding around the bed.

One held Gwendolyn’s wrists.

Another pressed hard under her nose with a knuckle.

The third adjusted the monitor.

Gwendolyn’s eyes cracked open about twenty seconds later.

She blinked, caught sight of Ashton standing in the middle of the room, and made a strangled sound.

Her head flopped sideways.

Out cold again.