I Slapped My Fiancé—Then Married His Billionaire Nemesis
Chapter 226 - 227 Man-child

Chapter 226: Chapter 227 Man-child

‘Police came,’ Priya said. ‘They’re handling it. Rhys and Dan both got hurt. Dan’s worse. They’ve been taken to the hospital.’ She paused. ‘The studio’s a wreck. Again.’

I sighed. ‘I’m on my way.’

I couldn’t leave Priya to deal with the mess alone.

When I got there, the street was empty, and the police were gone.

Inside, the door was still half-open, the metal frame bent slightly at the hinge.

The place looked like it had been trashed by a lunatic with a baseball bat.

Computers were smashed, monitors on the floor, their screens cracked.

Tables were overturned; chairs were scattered, some snapped in half, the stuffing spilling out.

Blood streaked the white tiles in two directions, thick and dark, already drying at the edges.

I didn’t want to know who had left it.

I got to work clearing glass, dragging chairs into a pile, picking up splintered wood.

Priya helped silently.

We filled two bin bags before I finally dropped into one of the few intact chairs.

My shoulders were tight, and my palms were burning from the cuts.

The bell at the door jingled once.

Rhys stood in the doorway.

His shirt was half-buttoned, one sleeve rolled up sloppily.

His lip was split.

There was a fresh bandage stretched across his neck, another one around his wrist.

His jaw looked swollen, turning a sickly shade of grey-green.

Priya shot up. ‘Are you insane? You just left the hospital and already back for round two? I swear—’

He ignored her, his eyes locking on mine.

He stepped in, limping slightly.

‘Just tell me one thing. You knew he was my father’s bastard all along. You kept seeing him anyway. Were you trying to get back at me?’

I stood, moved three steps away from him.

‘No,’ I said coldly. ‘I didn’t know. And it’s not my problem. Your family mess has nothing to do with me.’

Rhys glared like he was trying to burn a hole through my skull.

‘Do you know what my dad just told me? Thirty per cent. He’s giving that bastard thirty per cent of the company. I’ve been breaking my back at Granger Development for five years and I don’t even have thirty. And he just hands it to some nobody who showed up out of nowhere.’

He didn’t give me a chance to say ‘Don’t care, didn’t ask.’ and barrelled on. ‘He came straight to your studio the moment he got back to Skyline. You two must’ve been talking behind my back for months. What is this, some plan to cut me out and split my inheritance between you?’

‘Don’t flatter yourself,’ I said. ‘You’re not that important.’

He let out a low laugh, a complacent, smug one, and I knew he was about to say something stupid.

‘You don’t have to play games. If it’s money you want, just tell me. Whatever you’re scheming for, I’ll give it to you.’

I looked him dead in the eye. ‘I wouldn’t take a cent from you if you get on your knees and beg me.’

I stepped past the broken table and started moving around him.

He blocked the way, arms stiff at his sides.

‘I’m not done,’ he said quickly. ‘I came to apologise. I shouldn’t have come at Dan like that. He pushed my buttons and I just... snapped. It got out of hand. I didn’t mean to wreck your place. That was on me.’

‘You were howling for justice half a minute ago. Sounded like you were ready to level the whole building.’

‘That was the rage talking,’ he said. ‘You’ve seen me lose it before. I thought you’d understand. He’s been lying to everyone. The bastard’s fooled you too—’

‘Stop calling him that,’ I cut in. ‘Every time you spit out “that bastard”, you sound like a bigger prick.’

Out of the two of them, Dan had been the one actually showing up, getting work done, not shattering furniture and bleeding on the floor.

Between a sulky man-child and a quiet employee (though one that was proving difficult to get rid of), I knew which one gave me fewer migraines.

‘You stormed in here spoiling for a fight, and now it’s Dan’s fault you lost your temper? It just proves how unstable you are. Go back to your hospital bed and stay there.’

Rhys’s eyes, already slightly swollen, widened to saucer-like proportions. ‘You’re defending him?’

‘I’m not defending anyone. I’m telling you this isn’t your turf. Get out.’

His face dropped.

He tried to look wounded. ‘I came to apologise.’

‘Don’t bother. Just pay for what you broke.’

‘I will.’ He reached into his coat and pulled out a chequebook. ‘I lost it earlier. I’ll cover everything.’

I didn’t take the cheque he offered. ‘You’ll pay once the cops finish their report. Through proper channels. Not now.’

I didn’t want it to look like we’d reached a private settlement.

I didn’t want it to look like Rhys and I had a ‘private’ anything.

His hand hung in the air for a second before he lowered it.

I waited for him to leave.

He didn’t get the hint.

‘Mirabelle, it’s been hell. Catherine won’t sign the papers. Keeps dragging things out. My father blindsided us with some bastard son, wants to make him a Granger, put him in the boardroom like I’m already gone. My mum had a cardiac episode and ended up hospitalised. I wasn’t planning to start anything with Daniel, I was—’

‘How’s Aunt Louisa?’ I interrupted his unsolicited soul-baring.

Rhys looked up fast, eyes glinting with hope. ‘You still care about me, don’t you?’

‘I care about Aunt Louisa. You’ve got nothing to do with it.’

‘Right.’ His shoulders drooped once more. ‘She’s all right. It wasn’t serious. Her health’s always shaky. This time it was the stress.’

I said nothing, busy weighing up whether I should call the police, and wondering if Priya had already done it.

Rhys rubbed his eyes with the heel of one hand. Then: ‘Mirabelle... I made a mistake. I’ve filed for divorce. Once it’s final... would you ever—’