I Slapped My Fiancé—Then Married His Billionaire Nemesis
Chapter 29 - 30 Repercussions

Chapter 29: Chapter 30 Repercussions

Rhys, shocker, actually took the hint and left.

Silence dropped over the room like a heavy curtain.

I knew Ashton had just gone full Gladiator mode for me.

Which was... weirdly touching, considering we were basically strangers who just happened to have a fake engagement contract and three awkward encounters under our belts.

‘Thanks for that,’ I mumbled.

Ashton shrugged. ‘Don’t thank me. He was pissing me off.’

He stood up, gaze flicking to my wrist where Rhys’s Neanderthal grip had left faint marks. He frowned.

My phone started screaming.

Caroline’s name lit up the screen like a warning siren.

Yeah, no thanks.

I hit decline without blinking.

Five seconds later, the phone started ringing again. Persistent like a debt collector.

Sighing, I stabbed the answer button and held it to my ear. ‘What?’

I barely got the word out before a full-on banshee shriek exploded from the speaker.

‘Mirabelle! How dare you hit your sister in front of everyone at the party?!’

Ah. Serenna or Catherine must have gone running to mummy dearest with their version of events.

For a second, I thought about explaining. Telling her how Serenna started it, how Catherine had been stirring the pot.

But then... What was the point? Caroline would believe them over me if they told her the sky was green and pigs had started UberEats deliveries.

So I stayed quiet, just holding the phone to my ear while she shouted, feeling absolutely nothing.

‘Catherine’s barely back in Skyline and trying to rejoin the social scene, and you humiliated her in front of everyone! She finally got an invite to a major party, and you wrecked it! There’s video footage, Mira, video! It’s everywhere! How do you expect us to save face now? How’s the Granger family supposed to save face? If you’ve got even a shred of decency left, you’ll drag your arse home, apologise to Catherine, then haul yourself over to the Grangers and grovel. You wanna throw tantrums? Fine. But don’t drag the rest of us down with you!’

I glanced at my watch. She managed that two-minute rant without stopping to breathe. A personal best, even for her.

It sounded like she’d been waiting for an excuse to lose it on me, like this was her big comeback tour after the last time I refused to play ball.

My phone wasn’t even on speaker, but Ashton, sitting not five feet away, must have caught every word.

The screaming from Caroline’s end was still going strong when my screen lit up with another call.

Aunt Louisa.

I cut in mid-rant: ‘Mum, you’ve been talking for so long you must be parched. Go grab a water bottle before you croak. I’ve got another call. Gotta run.’

Then I hung up.

The phone started buzzing again. Louisa.

I stared at it, jaw tight.

Blowing off Rhys was easy.

Louisa, not so much.

She was in hospital recovering from a car accident that I was partially responsible for, and she’d been nothing but kind to me my whole life.

Birthday parties, scraped knees, family fights—Aunt Louisa had been there for all of it.

She was probably calling because she’d heard about the mess at the party. Everyone else had.

And I had nothing for her. I didn’t want to lie to her. And it wasn’t my job to cover for her son’s dumpster-fire love life.

The screen went dark. Straight to voicemail.

Ashton shifted next to me, looking like he wanted to say something.

His phone went off before he could. He picked up.

‘Got it,’ he said after a minute, then hung up and looked at me.

I frowned. ‘What?’

‘That was my assistant. Louisa Granger just collapsed at the hospital. They’re trying to bring her round.’

I was on my feet before he finished. I looked at the door, then back at him, frozen for half a beat.

Ashton didn’t miss a thing. ‘Let’s go.’

‘But the party—’

‘The guests can entertain themselves. They’re grown-ups.’

I didn’t argue. Just threw him a quick, grateful smile and we were off.

Eldergrove Private loomed up like a ghost I really didn’t want to meet again.

Last time I’d been here... yeah, not the best memory.

I shoved it down and stormed inside, zeroing in on the nurses’ station.

A couple of barked directions later, I found Louisa’s room.

Willow Granger stood posted like a bouncer at the door, arms folded.

Her dad, Clive Granger, was slumped on a chair to the side, staring at the floor.

I walked straight up. ‘Aunt Louisa, how is she?’

Willow turned. The second she clocked my face, her expression twisted like she’d swallowed battery acid.

She didn’t say a word. She just swung.

The slap came fast and ugly, but not fast enough.

I blocked it with my forearm, easy.

Willow staggered back a step, surprised.

I thought about slapping her back. I really did.

But punching Aunt Louisa’s daughter right outside her hospital room felt like a touch too much, even for me.

Willow hissed, voice shaking, ‘You’ve got some bloody nerve showing up here. What, trying to finish the job? Want to kill her for good this time?’

I folded my arms and stared her down. ‘I’m not here to swap insults. I asked a simple question.’

She wasn’t listening.

‘You trashed the Laurent party tonight so bad the videos are blowing up all over group chats. Everyone’s laughing at us, at the Grangers! And you’re telling me you didn’t mean it?’ Her voice cracked sharp with fury. ‘My mum treated you better than she treats me sometimes—hell, she pretty much raised you like her own—and this is how you pay her back?’

Classic Willow. She’d hated my guts from day one. Thought I wasn’t good enough for her big brother Rhys. Not rich enough. Not posh enough. Not educated enough.

According to her, the only thing I brought to the table was my looks.

In her head, I was the stray puppy Rhys was too soft to kick. The hanger-on. The charity case.

But Louisa had made her choice. She liked me. Loved me, even. Treated me like the daughter she probably wished Willow had been.

And now Willow had all the ammo she needed to blame me for Louisa’s condition.

She wasn’t done, either.

The first slap had failed, so she reared back for a second.