I Slapped My Fiancé—Then Married His Billionaire Nemesis
Chapter 28 - 29 Footage

Chapter 28: Chapter 29 Footage

Thirty seconds later, the giant screen in the centre of the ballroom lit up, crystal-clear like some Hollywood premiere, every detail sharp enough to catch the sweat prickling on Catherine’s arms.

From where I stood near the open door, I had the perfect view of the disaster unfolding downstairs.

Rhys whipped around to stare at Catherine. ‘You said Mirabelle was stirring shit, pulling the tablecloth and trying to pin it on you. So explain to me why, in that footage, it’s your hand yanking the cloth, and Mira’s nowhere bloody near it?’

Catherine burst into tears on cue, shaking so hard her diamond earrings rattled. She stammered for ages, blubbering, ‘Maybe I, I tugged it by accident? Mirabelle kept provoking me, and I panicked, I thought...’

No one was buying it.

Catherine grabbed Rhys’s sleeve. ‘Rhys, I didn’t mean to cause trouble! Mirabelle set me off!’

Ashton cut in, ‘Miss Vance, the cameras record audio too. If you insist on your innocence, I can have them pull the full footage from when you arrived. Let’s all hear exactly how Mirabelle “provoked” you, shall we?’

‘No!’ Catherine yelped.

She shut up after that, probably realising no amount of ugly crying was going to spin this train wreck.

Her mascara was sliding down her face in greasy black rivers, but Rhys wasn’t even looking at her anymore.

He stood there, breathing like he wanted to strangle someone, before forcing himself to chill.

I could smell the regret sweating off him. He was probably busy wishing he could time-travel five minutes back and unsay every stupid thing he had spat at Ashton.

Finally, in a voice so stiff it could snap in half, Rhys muttered, ‘Catherine made a... a mistake. She didn’t mean to wreck the party. It was... an impulsive lapse of judgement. Catherine, apologise to Mr... Laurent. Now.’

Catherine’s eyes widened at Ashton’s name. She stared at Rhys in disbelief, then at Ashton. Then, finally, like Rhys, she understood.

Then she scrambled to throw out a million ‘sorrys’ in Ashton’s direction.

He cut her off, voice like a blade: ‘You’re apologising to the wrong person.’

Catherine froze. Her gaze slid to me.

Yeah. I was the one she needed to grovel to. And judging by her twisted face, she’d rather eat glass than say sorry to me.

‘I...’ she stammered, the words choking in her throat.

‘Looks like Miss Vance isn’t exactly drowning in remorse,’ Ashton said, flashing a look at the doorway.

Cue the bouncers. Two guys in black suits stormed in and grabbed Catherine by both arms.

She barely had time to blink before they started dragging her towards the staircase.

‘Wait! I’m sorry! I’ll apologise! Mirabelle, I’m sorry!’ she howled, flailing desperately.

The guys didn’t even slow down.

Ashton watched her with all the emotion of a marble statue. ‘Too late.’

‘Rhys! Help me!’ Catherine shrieked, kicking her heels against the floor.

Rhys twitched like he was about to sprint after her, but stopped dead when Ashton said, ‘Walk out now, Mr Granger, and you make her cause yours. Your name on tonight’s mess. And your name on the Laurent family’s blacklist. Is that what you want?’

‘No! I swear, I didn’t know anything!’ Rhys blurted.

For a second, I thought he might still throw himself at the door.

Instead, he just looked at Catherine—screaming, heels scraping over marble—and then looked away.

He had never looked so cowardly.

Rhys shuffled over to Ashton, fake smile stretched so tight it looked painful. ‘Mr Laurent, I actually came here tonight to discuss a potential deal with LGH. I’d never dream of causing trouble at your party. If you might have a moment...?’

He was actually bowing. The desperation stank.

Ashton didn’t even look up. He lounged in the armchair, scrolling his phone like Rhys was background noise.

The silent treatment hit harder than a slap. Rhys’s face was a shade of red I’d never seen before.

Finally, he gave up trying to talk business and leaned towards me instead, whispering, ‘When did you meet Mr Laurent?’

I shrugged. ‘That’s none of your business. Now scram.’

His jaw ticked. ‘Since you know Mr Laurent... maybe you could, you know, put in a good word later? I’ve got a project I want to pitch.’

I shot him a look. ‘And what’s that got to do with me?’

He reached for my hand. Tight enough to be annoying, not tight enough to leave a mark. ‘Come on, even if we’re broken up, we’re still friends, right? We grew up together, after all. Besides, whether I marry you or your sister, we’d still end up as family. Our interests align, don’t you see?’

Sometimes the sheer stupidity of men is so overwhelming you have no choice but to laugh.

I snorted right in his face.

‘Rhys Granger, even if we were still together—which, newsflash, we’re not—you think I’d give a damn about your family’s business? Our interests align? I don’t see my name on your company’s stock certificates. You lot could be rolling in gold bars and I still wouldn’t see a penny. Why should I help you?’

Rhys opened his mouth, then thought better of it.

Smart for once.

I yanked my hand free and snatched a tissue off the table, scrubbing my wrist like I was wiping off a cockroach.

His face twisted. It took him some moments before he found speech again.

‘I know you’re still pissed about... the fight,’ he said, pretending to sound all reasonable. ‘How about this? I’m free tomorrow. I’ll take you out shopping. Maybe pick a wedding dress.’

He glanced at Ashton, then lowered his voice. ‘The invites are already printed. The wedding’s happening, Mira. You can kick and scream all you want, but it’s not getting cancelled. Not till my mum... you know.’

I just stared at him.

Apparently tired of talking to a brick wall, Rhys grabbed my arm and started dragging me towards the door. ‘Let’s talk outside.’

‘Stop.’ Ashton looked up from his phone. ‘Miss Vance is my guest. You can leave. She stays.’

Translation: get lost, loser.