I Slapped My Fiancé—Then Married His Billionaire Nemesis
Chapter 26 - 27 His Real Name

Chapter 26: Chapter 27 His Real Name

Chaos was breaking out, but Yvaine wasn’t exactly losing. She’d landed a kick on everyone who came near, even knocked one guy flat on his arse.

‘All those kickboxing classes finally paying off.’ She even had the time to gloat to me.

I nodded at her.

That was when Rhys finally decided to show up, fresh from whatever mirror he’d been admiring himself in.

He took one look at the scene and his face went from ‘Skyline City heartthrob’ to ‘incoming category five hurricane’ in half a second.

‘Mirabelle! What the hell are you doing? If you’re pissed off, take it out on me! Leave Catherine out of it!’ he snapped, storming towards me.

Moving fast, he grabbed my wrist, trying to yank my hand out of Catherine’s hair.

But I wasn’t letting go.

‘You stay out of it!’ I snapped, tightening my grip. ‘You just assume it’s my fault without even asking, yeah?’

‘You’re literally dragging Catherine around by her hair! Am I supposed to pretend I’m blind?’

The room was full of Skyline’s top-tier elite—the type of people Rhys used to stalk on LinkedIn and now desperately wanted to impress. His ego must’ve been melting faster than an ice cream on a July pavement.

So, naturally, he took it out on me, yanking my arm so hard I thought my bones would snap.

I barely had time to swear before a hand clamped down on Rhys’s arm. Hard.

Rhys stiffened. ‘Who the hell—?’

Ashton ripped Rhys’s hand off me like peeling gum off a shoe, and took hold of my wrist. ‘Come with me.’

The way he was glaring at Rhys, you’d think he was two seconds away from breaking every bone in his hand.

I glanced down. A bright red mark was blooming across my wrist like some godawful brand. Fantastic. Just what I needed — battle scars from my ex.

Ashton saw it too. His eyes narrowed. He shot Rhys a look so cold it could’ve frozen the Hudson. Rhys actually flinched, breaking into a nervous sweat.

He just stood there, dumb as a lamppost, while Ashton led me upstairs without a word.

Out of the corner of my eye, I spotted some guy in a suit storming towards Yvaine, with a swarm of security guards on his heels.

‘Let go of me! Not my fault!’ Yvaine shrieked. ‘Everyone saw it! Rhys has been cheating, parading his side chick around like it’s spring break, and they ganged up on Mira! The wedding’s off! And it’s not Mira’s fault she’s bailing — it’s because Rhys is a lying piece of shit!’

‘I need to get to my friend,’ I said.

‘She’ll be fine,’ Ashton said curtly.

I saw the guy in the suit barking orders at the guards, waving them towards the knot of people crowding Yvaine. They waded in, peeling the mob off her.

Yvaine was still on her feet, looking pissed but perfectly fine.

Ashton added, ‘They’re coming this way. Don’t worry, your friend’s fine.’

No time to argue. His grip on my wrist was firm but not rough, dragging me into a side room that looked like a private lounge.

Seconds later, the suit came barging in, hauling Yvaine by the arm.

He raked a hand through his immaculately groomed hair and barked at her, ‘Right. Start talking. What the hell happened?’

Yvaine grabbed a napkin and started dabbing at her wine-soaked dress. She launched into a play-by-play of the mess downstairs.

While she ranted, Ashton brought out a med kit, his hand surprisingly gentle as he dabbed antiseptic on my wrist. His touch was careful, almost... reverent.

The iodine burned slightly.

Not that it was the worst part. The real problem was how bloody close he was. Ashton was half-kneeling in front of me, breath ghosting over my skin, and between the sting and the heat of him, my whole arm was ready to catch fire.

His eyes flicked over me, sharp and thorough, like he was scanning for damage. I felt stripped bare.

I yanked my hand back and shrugged like it was no big deal. ‘I’m fine, really. I box, you know. If it had come down to it, those girls wouldn’t have stood a chance.’

Ashton pushed himself upright, grabbed his phone, and made a call. When it connected, he said, ‘Pull the security footage from the first floor.’

I checked on Yvaine, blotting at the giant wine stain on her designer dress. The guy in the suit hovered nearby, passing me tissues like he was trying to make himself useful.

‘That dress is a goner,’ he said. ‘I’ll tell the housekeeper to bring you a fresh one.’

Yvaine waved it off. ‘The dress is fine. If you hadn’t dragged me off, I swear I would’ve roasted Rhys into a permanent meme!’

Then she shot me an apologetic wince and said, ‘Mira, about me yelling the whole engagement’s off in public—you’re not mad, right? It just sort of... slipped out.’

I shrugged. ‘I’m not mad.’

Then I looked over at Ashton. ‘I didn’t realise you’d arrived. You were upstairs this whole time?’

Even when fists were flying and glasses were smashing, I hadn’t missed it. Ashton had appeared from the second floor, not the front entrance.

Ashton hesitated.

Before he could say anything, the guy in the suit cut in: ‘Why can’t he be upstairs? He lives here.’

I blinked at Ashton. ‘You live here?’

Yvaine butted in too, eyes flicking between the guy in the suit and Ashton. ‘Wait, you two know each other?’

The guy nodded. ‘Duh. We’ve been friends for ages. That’s Ashton Laurent. Just got back from Europe. This whole party’s for him.’

I nearly fell over. ‘Ashton Laurent? You told me your name was Ashton Girard!’

At the same time, Yvaine screeched too: ‘Ashton? Mira, this is your new fiancé?’

Ashton, calm as a dead heart monitor, said to me, ‘Girard’s my mum’s surname. Laurent’s my dad’s.’

His friend’s jaw hit the floor. ‘Wait, what? You’re engaged?’

Ashton side-eyed him. ‘This party is to announce it. Didn’t you get the memo?’