I Slapped My Fiancé—Then Married His Billionaire Nemesis
Chapter 40 - 41 Married

Chapter 40: Chapter 41 Married

‘Hi, yeah, I’d like to report stolen property. A vintage brooch, pearls and diamonds, easily worth seven figures. If someone refuses to return it, does that count as grand larceny? What kind of sentence are we talking—ten years minimum?’

‘What the hell are you doing?!’ Caroline shrieked, full banshee mode. ‘Have you lost your mind? Put that phone down!’

She lunged from the sofa.

One slipper flew off mid-sprint, but she didn’t even notice.

Too busy flailing at me, trying to snatch the phone from my hand.

I stepped back calmly, dodging her grab like we were doing slow-mo tai chi.

‘Too late. I already called the cops. They said they’re on their way.’

Caroline froze.

Her legs went wobbly like someone pulled the plug on her spine.

‘You called the police? Over this little thing? Are you insane?’

‘Oh, now it’s just “a little thing”?’ I folded my arms. ‘If it’s so unimportant, why’ve you spent the last ten minutes playing keep-away?’

‘You don’t call the police on your mother!’ she shrieked. ‘What the hell is wrong with you? Do you even see me as family?’

‘You’ve got two minutes to bring down the brooch. If you do, I’ll cancel the police report. If not, I’ll tell them you stole the brooch from me and that it’s worth millions. Let’s see how that goes over.’

She stared at me like I’d slapped her with a frying pan.

Then her mouth twisted into something sour and bitter.

‘Fine. You win.’

She spun around and stomped upstairs, muttering God knows what under her breath.

Probably hexes.

Truth was, I never made the call.

I just wanted to scare the hell out of her.

If she’d paid any attention, she’d have noticed I didn’t give the ‘police’ my address.

It was just some light psychological warfare.

And it worked.

Still, I wasn’t exactly doing a happy dance.

All I wanted was my own damn thing back, and she acted like I’d demanded a kidney.

This family had stopped seeing me as one of them a long time ago.

The sound of heels clattering down the staircase snapped me out of it.

Caroline came barrelling down, looking like she’d aged ten years in three minutes.

She shoved a mahogany box into my hands.

‘Here. You got what you wanted. Now cancel the bloody call.’

I popped the box open and inspected the brooch.

It was intact.

No scratches, no substitutions.

Then I snapped the box shut and turned on my heel.

Caroline came flapping after me like a pissed-off goose.

‘Mirabelle! Cancel the damn call! You really want the cops showing up on my doorstep? What will the neighbours think? Do you hear me? Tell them not to come!’

I didn’t break stride. Just waved my phone over my shoulder.

‘Relax. They’re not coming.’

I was halfway down the driveway before she even hit the front door.

Once I got a few houses away, I stopped. Turned around.

Three-storey homes, all smug and cookie-cutter, lined both sides.

This wasn’t the fanciest part of Skyline City, but anyone living here wasn’t clipping coupons either.

I grew up here, but that house wasn’t mine anymore.

I spun back, power-walked out of the neighbourhood, and spotted Ashton’s car parked by the kerb like a black jaguar waiting to pounce.

I forced my face into something vaguely neutral, slid into the passenger seat, and buckled up.

‘Got what you came for?’ he asked, eyes flicking to the box.

‘Yeah.’ I set the box on my lap, fingers curling around the carved edges.

He started the engine. ‘Right. Off to the Office of the City Clerk. No backing out now, Miss Vance.’

I nodded. ‘No backing out.’

Once we hit the main road, he glanced over. ‘So, what was so important you had to show up at the crack of dawn to grab it?’

I ran my thumb along the floral carving on the lid. ‘It’s the engagement gift the Grangers gave me. From back when we were still pretending that was a good idea.’

‘Oh? The Grangers gave you that?’

I thought I’d caught a slight edge in his voice, but maybe I’d just imagined it.

‘Yeah. It’s a brooch. Passed down from Aunt Louisa’s side. Some kind of family heirloom. Since the engagement’s off, I can’t keep it. Figured I’d drop it off later. Tie up loose ends, you know. Maybe Aunt Louisa will finally see that I’m serious about the breakup.’

‘Good idea.’ He sounded sincere.

The City Clerk’s office came into view.

We parked, got out, and headed straight in.

We were first in line.

I had no clue what I was doing.

But Ashton moved like he’d memorised the floor plan and speedran the tutorial.

He knew every window, every form, every ‘sign here’.

He also looked like he was racing a bomb countdown. Just in case I bolted.

Twenty minutes later, I was holding a crisp little piece of legal commitment in both hands.

Outside, I exhaled for the first time all morning.

My death grip on the marriage certificate loosened.

It was just paper.

White. Boring fonts. Embossed stamps. Names, date, time, location, the usual robot-language confirming, yep, we’d officially tied the knot. Signatures. A witness line I hadn’t even registered.

Also, surprise—I learned my new husband’s full name was Ashton Jules-Sylvain Laurent.

I stared down at his signature like it might bite.

I’d really married him.

Not Rhys Granger. Him.

Was I okay? Unclear.

The whole thing still felt floaty and unreal, like I’d tripped and landed in someone else’s life.

We walked side by side to the kerb.

I stopped. ‘Um...’

Should I call him hubby? That sounded weird.

‘Mr Laurent, you go ahead. I’m heading straight to the Grangers.’

I was already pulling out my phone to call a cab when he said, ‘I’m not busy today. I’ll drive you.’

He opened the passenger door like it was non-negotiable.

I hesitated.