I Slapped My Fiancé—Then Married His Billionaire Nemesis
Chapter 225 - 226 Reprisal

Chapter 225: Chapter 226 Reprisal

‘To you, maybe,’ he said coolly. ‘You haven’t answered my question.’

‘Well, um... your mum’s my sponsor back in school. She’s helped me a lot. When I heard she wasn’t well, I came to visit.’ Rowan hastened to add, ‘I only just found out she’s your stepmother. Total coincidence.’

‘Right. She came to see me,’ Gwendolyn added quickly. ‘I just found out you two went to school together in Wessexia. What are the odds, huh? Small world.’

Ashton looked pointedly at the empty bedside table. ‘You come visit a patient and show up empty-handed?’

Rowan hesitated. ‘I left in a rush. I forgot.’

‘We’re close. There’s no need for gifts,’ Gwendolyn muttered.

‘Stop bullshitting,’ Ashton cut her off.

He raised his phone and hit play.

The audio poured out, tinny, but clear.

Their voices filled the room, every word from the earlier argument.

Gwendolyn had gone rigid.

Rowan looked at the floor.

Ashton let it run a few more seconds, then stopped the recording. ‘Still sticking with the hospital visit excuse?’

Rowan recovered first. ‘It wasn’t me, Ashton. Your mum made me do it. She paid for my tuition, I owed her. She told me to come here. She said I had to mess with you two. She planned everything! Gwendolyn came up with the photos. I just... followed instructions. She told me exactly what to do.’

‘You lying bitch!’ Gwendolyn ripped the blanket off, climbed out of bed and slapped Rowan hard across the face. ‘You begged me to help you. Every part of it was your idea. Don’t you dare dump it on me.’

Rowan clutched her cheek, which was rapidly turning red. Tears flowed on command. ‘It’s not true! You used me—’

‘Bullshit!’

Their voices clashed.

I stuck close to the door and wished I had popcorn in hand.

Ashton’s voice cut through the overlapping recriminations. ‘Guess my father’s extending his safari. You’ll have plenty of time to explain all this when he gets back.’

Gwendolyn stopped mid-shout and turned to him. ‘It wasn’t me! You heard what I said. I told her to stop. I didn’t want any of this. I’ve been trying to fix things so your father can come home—’

‘That’s not what happened!’ Rowan burst out between sobs. ‘She told me what to do—’

They both kept talking over each other, each louder than the last.

My head ping-ponged back and forth between them and I could barely track who was accusing who of what anymore.

Ashton raised a hand, silencing them. ‘Don’t repeat yourselves. I don’t give a damn which one of you came up with it. You both did it.’

His gaze landed on Gwendolyn. ‘You want to keep lying? Fine. Then your husband can rot in Africa for another three years.’

‘As for you.’ He turned to Rowan next. ‘You couldn’t make a dent overseas, that’s why you crawled back here. Guess what, I’ll make sure Skyline slams the door on you even faster.’

Rowan blanched. ‘Ashton—’

‘Don’t “Ashton” me. I’m not your friend. I’ve deleted your number, and I suggest you do the same with mine. We’re done.’

He turned and reached for my wrist. ‘Let’s go.’

I left with him, now that the show was over.

‘Is it really over, though?’ I asked as we came out of the hospital. ‘Will they back off for good, now that you’ve exposed their evil machinations?’

‘They know better than to try again,’ Ashton said.

He looked thoughtful. ‘Though, to make sure...’

He pulled out his phone and dialled.

He was on the phone with Dominic for less than five minutes.

‘What did you ask him to do?’ I asked once he hung up.

‘Just make a few calls.’

I wasn’t sure what he meant until later that afternoon, when he sent me screenshots.

Dominic had sent him an update:

[Rowan just lost her spot on StarSignal, the variety show she was supposed to debut on. Brand deal with Zaphir Skincare’s gone too. The others are falling through one by one.]

I scrolled.

There were eight cancelled projects.

Even when her agency offered to cut her rate, nobody bit.

Then another update came through.

[Rowan posted a vague brag about performing at the Skyline Gala, tagged it and everything. A minute ago, gala organisers replied to her post directly: ‘No such invite was issued to Miss Hale.’]

I pictured Rowan seeing this merciless disclaimer, watching it all fall apart, losing everything in ten minutes.

I didn’t feel sorry for her.

Priya’s name lit up on my phone.

I picked up.

‘Mirabelle! Rhys Granger just stormed into the studio. He found out Dan’s his brother or something and now he’s screaming you and Dan tricked him. He’s demanding you show up and explain. Shit, now they’re fighting!’

Behind her voice, I could hear loud crashing, metal scraping tile, something heavy thudding against a wall.

My first reaction on hearing Rhys’s name was—why couldn’t he take his family drama elsewhere? Why my studio?

If this had happened a year ago, I might’ve called Louisa to check in.

But ever since the engagement ended, we barely exchanged pleasantries, let alone sympathy.

‘They won’t stop.’ Priya sounded more concerned than scared. ‘Dan won’t back down, Rhys looks ready to kill him. I can’t get between them, Mirabelle, please—’

More smashing. Glass and furniture.

I could hear fists landing.

‘I’m not coming back. I don’t care what they’re fighting about. And you need to stay the hell out of it. I don’t want you catching an elbow because they can’t manage their daddy issues.’

‘But—’

‘There’s nothing valuable in the studio. No jewellery. Let them break whatever they want. They’ll pay for it. Call the police. And if one of them ends up bleeding, call an ambulance. Just don’t get in the middle.’

‘Okay.’

I hung up.

I’d meant to swing by Yvaine’s new shop, but now I just wanted to get home and pass out.

My lower back still ached.

Priya called again minutes later.