I Slapped My Fiancé—Then Married His Billionaire Nemesis
Chapter 50 - 51 Midnight Visit

Chapter 50: Chapter 51 Midnight Visit

I was half-dead on the couch, scrolling through dog videos for inspiration, when someone started pounding on the door.

I didn’t order food. Yvaine wasn’t coming tonight.

And you needed a building pass just to get on my floor, so that left...

Sighing, I opened the door.

Yep. Rhys Granger, looking like someone had pissed in his Cristal.

‘Nope,’ I said immediately and went to slam it shut.

He shoved a foot in. ‘You dodging me now? I’ve got something to say!’

‘Say it. Then leave.’

‘If you married that guy just to spite me, you win. Fine. You win. I’m here now. You got what you wanted.’

I laughed. ‘You think I got married to piss you off?’

‘Didn’t you?’ he said, jaw tight. ‘You’ve been into me since we were kids. You don’t just flip a switch and stop. Everything you’re doing right now is just a game.’

Oh, for fuck’s sake.

I folded my arms. ‘Rhys, the day you let my darling sister crawl into your lap at that bar was the day I stopped liking you. Yeah, I used to be an idiot. But I’m not anymore. So let me make this crystal clear.’

He blinked.

I leaned forward.

‘I. Am. Married. I have a husband. A real one. Not a maybe-one-day-if-you-behave placeholder. You and I? We’re nothing. I don’t love you. I don’t even like you now. Got it? Is that enough closure for you?’

Rhys just stood there, shoulders slumped, mouth half-open.

Good. Let it sting.

His breathing went weird, like someone had stuffed a sock down his throat.

‘No. No way. You can’t not love me.’ He sounded like a broken chatbot. ‘You marrying Ashton Laurent? That was the real joke. You think the heir to the Laurent empire’s actually gonna fall for you? Maybe he played along for now ‘cause you blackmailed him or whatever, but once he comes to his senses, you won’t even know what hit you before you’re out on your arse—or dead.’

I looked up at the ceiling, praying for patience.

Why the hell did I never notice how exhausting it was just talking to Rhys?

I’d said what I needed to say.

I wasn’t wasting another breath.

‘Do not come back here,’ I said, then turned and slammed the door—

Well, I tried to slam it.

Except his foot was still in the gap.

There was a solid ‘crunch’.

Followed by the kind of scream that made my neighbours probably reach for their phones.

‘AAAAAHH!! My foot!! Mirabelle, are you trying to murder me?!’

I glanced down.

His polished leather shoe had a dent, but I didn’t see blood or bone fragments.

‘Move it,’ I said coolly. ‘Or next time I’ll snap the whole damn thing.’

‘No!’ Rhys gritted his teeth and clung to the doorframe.

He grabbed my wrist hard and yanked me out into the hallway. ‘You think you can just shut the door on me? I’m not done talking!’

‘Let go of me!’ I twisted, tried to pull free, but his grip was vice-tight.

I could feel it pressing straight into the bone. ‘Rhys! You’re hurting me, you lunatic!’

He didn’t reply. Like he’d gone full zombie mode and couldn’t hear me.

Worse—he started dragging me towards the lift. ‘You’re coming home with me!’

‘The hell I am! Let go!’

I was debating if kneeing him in the groin was worth the trip to the police station when the lift let out a cheerful ‘ding’.

Ashton strode out, pulled up short at the sight of us, then picked up his pace.

He was right in front of me in a matter of seconds and landed a punch straight into Rhys’s face.

Rhys made this choked-up sound, somewhere between a yelp and a dying pigeon.

Then Ashton grabbed his shirt collar with one hand and clamped down on Rhys’s wrist with the other.

Yanked him clean off me like peeling off a cheap sticker.

‘Who the fuck are you?!’ Rhys gasped, hunched over like a kicked bin.

He looked dazed, probably couldn’t see past the cartoon stars circling his head.

Ashton’s voice came down like a guillotine: ‘Lay a hand on her again, and I’ll kill you.’

Rhys spat out a mouthful of blood.

He tried squinting up at the newcomer’s face.

I knew the moment he’d recognised Ashton, because he flinched.

And I couldn’t blame him.

Even I was a little scared.

Ashton had delivered his threat in a perfectly calm voice, and something told me he’d have no trouble carrying it out.

Rhys, for all his puffed-up ego, couldn’t even stand straight.

Panicking, he backed away a step and shouted, as if volume could make up for his lack of balls, ‘Mirabelle is my fiancée! What I do with her is none of your business!’

That last part came out about three decibels softer than the rest.

Even Rhys himself didn’t believe it.

Ashton took a step forward.

Rhys scrambled back farther.

Ashton parked himself right in front of me like a six-foot human wall.

‘Mirabelle is my wife. You show up at my place in the middle of the night harassing her, and you think that’s got nothing to do with me?’

Rhys swallowed. Loud.

I could hear it from behind Ashton’s shoulder.

Even when he straightened up and tried to match Ashton’s height, he still had to tip his chin just to make eye contact.

‘You didn’t marry her willingly, right? If she’s got something on you—pictures, whatever—I can help. She blackmailed you, didn’t she?’

Wow. Willow Granger really had him out here reading off a script.

They’d convinced themselves I’d somehow blackmailed Ashton into marrying me.

What did they think I had on him? Dick pics? The nuclear launch codes?

I poked my head out from behind Ashton. ‘You are delusional.’

Gently, Ashton nudged me back.

The next second, his fist connected with Rhys’s other cheek. Dead centre.

Now his face was finally symmetrical. Swollen on both sides like a rotten melon.