I Slapped My Fiancé—Then Married His Billionaire Nemesis
Chapter 22 - 23 Accusations

Chapter 22: Chapter 23 Accusations

The woman stared at me, then snatched the juice. ‘Thanks, Miss Vance.’

‘No worries,’ I said, smirking as I grabbed Yvaine’s arm and pulled her away.

Behind us, the chatter died.

Yvaine hissed, ‘Your stare just turned her skin fifty shades darker.’

I chuckled. ‘I know their type. Keen to yap behind your back, yet freeze solid when you look them in the eye—especially in public.’

We drifted towards the dessert tables—two twenty-metre feasts of cakes and champagne. With no immediate threat of juice assassination, I snagged a mini éclair and shoved it in my mouth.

The gossiping ladies hovered nearby, eyes flicking between us and their empty glasses. Wisely, they switched targets and moved on to the Laurent family’s heir.

‘A few years back, the Laurents didn’t even acknowledge that grandson of theirs. Didn’t give him a single share. Nada.’

‘And yet he went off overseas and built his own company. Bigger than Laurent Global Holdings, from what I’ve heard.’

‘Yeah, and I heard Edouard Laurent got seriously ill some years back, and LGH started tanking. No one in the family had the chops to save it, so suddenly the prodigal grandson wasn’t so useless anymore.’

‘They dragged him back thinking he’d work for free. Do them a favour. What they didn’t expect was for the young Mr Laurent to quietly take control of the whole damn thing.’

‘My husband tells me he’s now the actual boss of LGH.’

‘Not that he needs it. His own company makes LGH look like a roadside lemonade stand.’

‘Maybe that’s what the family’s worried about, that he doesn’t need them. Hence the party.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Haven’t you heard? This party is the Laurents’ way of making it clear that he’s family now. Make it official, you know. So people will stop calling him a bastard child.’

I gave Yvaine a questioning look.

As expected, she knew more than Gossip Ladies and dished the dirt.

‘Young Mr Laurent wasn’t always a Laurent. Rumour has it he was sort of cast aside as a kid. His mum died when he was a teen. Dad remarried. The rest of the clan treated him like trash, sent him off with a suitcase and a pat on the back. But now they need him to bail out their company. Hence all the pomp.’

I snagged a lemon tart. His backstory hit close to home. ‘He must’ve been ruthless to claw his way to the top.’

Yvaine nodded. ‘Must be. Though I haven’t met him yet. That’s what everybody’s here for.’

We made for a corner sofa.

Laughter froze me mid-stride.

A ring of young women crowded around a familiar face—Violet Lin.

She hadn’t spotted me.

‘I swear,’ Violet was crowing, ‘that necklace sold out weeks ago. You’d need an advance on your inheritance to score one now.’

‘Is it really the same necklace Eliza Black flaunted on the red carpet?’ one girl murmured.

‘It’s sooo nice! And only thirty grand,’ another cooed. ‘I’d kill for one.’

Violet lofted her chin, soaking up the praise.

I stared at the necklace she was wearing.

Just yesterday, she’d sniffed at this piece. Now she was parading it like the crown jewels.

‘I’ve been flat-out at Nyx Collective,’ Violet fake-complained. ‘Thank god my boss gave me leave for this party.’

Someone perked up. ‘You work there? Then you know who designed this?’

Violet’s grin flickered, then went full Cheshire. ‘Yes, I’m a designer at Nyx.’

‘So you made this?’ the girl pressed, eyes glittering.

Violet hesitated, then nodded.

They crowded in, desperate for a closer peek at the ‘must-have’ accessory.

‘Bullshit! That’s Mira’s design,’ Yvaine snapped. ‘You had zero to do with it.’

Silence snapped across the marble hall. Everyone’s jaws hit the floor. Heads swivelled.

When she saw me, Violet blanched so hard her mascara threatened to drip.

Her smug smile shrivelled. She jabbed a manicured finger at me. ‘Mirabelle Vance, this isn’t your crowd. How’d you get in here? Did you sneak in or fake an invite?’

Before I could launch my own barb, Yvaine yanked two crisp envelopes from her clutch and slapped them onto Violet’s palm.

‘Official Laurent invite,’ she said. ‘Addressed to Mira and me. Where’s yours?’

‘My what?’ Violet kept staring at me.

‘Your invite.’

‘It’s... in my purse.’

‘Care to show it?’

‘Why?’

‘Just humour me.’ Yvaine shrugged. ‘Unless you don’t have one.’

‘I...’ Violet reached inside her purse, but her hand stayed there.

Yvaine crossed her arms. ‘I’m waiting.’

‘I must have... misplaced it.’

‘Or you don’t have one. You came here as someone’s plus one, didn’t you? Or did you sneak in via the back door?’

The entire hall went mute. Violet’s cheeks flamed.

I winced a little. As much as I wasn’t Violet’s biggest fan, even I had to admit, watching her get roasted alive by Yvaine in front of a crowd this size was... rough.

Still. I wasn’t about to throw her a life raft.

I said to Violet, ‘I know exactly why you tried to accuse us of crashing the party. You thought if you got us thrown out, no one’d be able to prove you didn’t design that necklace.’

The crowd edged closer.

Violet stiffened. ‘I did design it.’ She gripped her phone. ‘I have the original drafts to prove it. You’re not stealing my work!’

My eyes narrowed.

She could be bluffing, or she might really have the drafts.

As another Nyx Collective designer, Violet had access to other people’s drafts. And Savannah said she wanted to use my necklace sketch as a sample for a studio workshop.

Maybe I’d underestimated Violet. I hadn’t expected her to save a copy on her phone. Had she been planning to pull a stunt like this?

She held up her phone. ‘Look! I have the drafts right here!’

A cluster of guests leaned in. One glance at her screen and their suspicion flipped sides. Suddenly, I was the villain of the night.

Violet’s smugness dripped off her like cheap perfume.

I didn’t react. Just waited.

Waited until she’d shoved that screen under every nose in a ten-foot radius.

Then I said, ‘Good thing you showed everyone. Saved me the trouble.’

Her phone-hand wobbled. ‘What do you mean?’

I said to one of the girls currently inspecting the drafts. ‘Why don’t you zoom in? Check the engraving on the tiny diamonds.’