I Slapped My Fiancé—Then Married His Billionaire Nemesis
Chapter 41 - 42 Can of Worms

Chapter 41: Chapter 42 Can of Worms

I was about to say no, thanks, we’re not that kind of married, but his voice had that corporate don’t-argue undertone.

I got in the car. ‘Thanks. Appreciate it.’

He just hummed, barely a sound, already turning the key.

We made it to the next block before he added, like it was some offhand comment, ‘It’s no trouble.’

I glanced over.

That chiselled, unreadable side profile gave nothing away. Same as before.

From the moment we walked out with that marriage certificate, he hadn’t shown a single flicker.

No awkward laughs, no nervous tics.

Just the same ice-cold poise he probably used to fire underperforming staff.

It weirdly helped.

The more he treated this marriage like a business transaction, the easier it was to breathe.

No romantic pressure. No messy feelings.

Just... clean lines and clear boundaries.

Then he said, still eyes on the road, ‘We’re married. Driving my wife isn’t exactly going above and beyond. And you don’t need to call me Mr Laurent anymore. Just use my name.’

‘Alright... Ashton.’

***

I’d been to the Granger house more times than I could count.

Their housekeeper, Darlene, recognised me right away.

She opened the door with a polite smile and a soft ‘Miss Vance’ like we were old family friends.

‘Come in and have a seat, dear. I’ll go fetch Mrs Granger. She’s just been discharged from the hospital. I know she’ll be thrilled to see you.’

‘Thanks,’ I said, settling on the nearest sofa and ignoring the smell of money and over-scented candles.

I didn’t even get a sip of water before Willow Granger came swanning down the stairs.

Her face dropped the second she saw me.

‘What the hell are you doing here? Rhys doesn’t even live here anymore. If you’re looking to throw yourself at him, you’re at the wrong address.’

‘I’m not here for Rhys. I came to see Aunt Louisa.’

That only made her scowl harder. ‘My mum? Are you serious?’

‘Do I look like I’m joking?’

‘You look like one of those pathetic women who can’t keep their boyfriend in check, so they go crying to mummy for backup. What, hoping she’ll slap some sense into him again?’

Again? Did Louisa slap Rhys?

That was interesting.

Willow stepped closer, narrowing her eyes. ‘Last time, Mum gave Rhys a proper bollocking in the hospital. Isn’t that enough? Are you here to open another can of worms?’

‘Are you calling yourself a worm?’

Willow looked thrown.

Back when I still thought pleasing Rhys was a viable strategy, I’d gone out of my way to be friendly with her.

Now that I wasn’t smiling and simpering, she looked at me like I’d grown a second head.

She stomped the rest of the way down and zeroed in on the box I’d placed on the coffee table. ‘What’s that?’

Before I could say a word, she reached out and flipped the lid open.

She stared down at the brooch inside.

Her eyes widened, and she just stood there gawping at it.

‘That’s... a really pretty brooch. Looks kinda... familiar.’

Then it hit her.

‘Wait! Isn’t this the heirloom thing my family gave yours when you and Rhys got engaged?’

I didn’t confirm or deny. Just let her stew in it.

Willow, of course, decided that meant ‘yes’, and picked it up without asking for permission.

She held it up to the light. Squinted. Gasped a little.

But then she remembered she hated me and slapped on her best suspicious-face.

‘So that’s why you’re here. You’re trying to use this to guilt-trip my mum, get her to force Rhys into staying with you. Bet you dragged your parents into it too.’

I didn’t bother replying.

She put the brooch down, then launched into her big speech. ‘You don’t have to push him so hard, you know. Rhys will marry you. He said he would. That should be enough. He might not love you anymore, but at least he’s doing the decent thing. You should just close one eye to him and Catherine, and you can still be my sister-in-law. You’ll be the official Mrs Granger everybody acknowledges.’

I stared at her in amazement. ‘God, the way you say that—makes it sound like I’m the mistress.’

That shut her up.

Her face turned an awkward shade of pink.

She looked like she wanted to say something clever but couldn’t find the script.

Willow muttered after a beat, ‘Catherine came first. She and Rhys... they’re meant to be. You’re the one who’s interfering. Besides, Rhys wouldn’t have looked elsewhere if he were happy at home.’

That pissed me off more than I expected.

Not the words.

The smug little philosophy baked into them.

I’d been such an idiot, hadn’t I?

Twisting myself into knots to be nice to this girl—this moral vacuum in designer boots—because I thought it would help with Rhys.

Never again.

I reached out and took the brooch straight from her hand. ‘Save your lecture. Rhys and I are over.’

I’d barely finished the sentence when she scoffed loud enough to wake the dead.

‘Yeah right. You’re obsessed with him. Everyone knows you’d do anything to get him back. This is just your latest scheme.’

Willow flounced onto the sofa like she’d just won something and was waiting for her prize.

We both waited in tense, sparkly silence.

I could feel her watching me from the corner of her eye, like I was about to pull a rabbit—or a prenup—out of my handbag.

A few minutes later, Louisa appeared at the top of the stairs.

She’d only just been discharged from the hospital, but she looked better than I’d expected—fresh lipstick, silk scarf, no IV drip in sight.

‘Mirabelle! I’ve been meaning to call you—’

Her gaze dropped to the familiar-looking box in front of me.

Her steps slowed.