I Slapped My Fiancé—Then Married His Billionaire Nemesis
Chapter 58 - 59 Rhys’s POV: Two Hundred Grand

Chapter 58: Chapter 59 Rhys’s POV: Two Hundred Grand

After leaving Yvaine’s party, Rhys and Catherine didn’t speak a word.

Neither of them had the energy to fake it.

The whole night had been one long humiliation marathon, and they were both too pissed to bother pretending otherwise.

At the kerb, Rhys pulled his coat tighter and grunted, ‘Wait here. I’ll get the car.’

‘Fine,’ Catherine muttered.

He’d barely turned the corner when some guy leapt out of the flowerbed, nearly scaring Catherine into an early grave.

‘Cathy!’ the boy hissed.

He couldn’t have been older than twenty, and he was wearing a rent-a-cop uniform two sizes too big.

She recognised him instantly and dragged him right back behind the bushes by the scruff of his sleeve.

Her nails dug into his arm.

‘Are you insane?’ she hissed, wild-eyed. ‘I told you not to contact me! How the hell did you even find me? If anyone sees us—Jesus, I’m screwed.’

He shook her off, flicked a half-smoked cigarette onto the ground.

‘Couldn’t reach you on the phone,’ he said with a shrug. ‘Had to come find you myself.’

Her mouth twitched like she wanted to slap him or scream—or both. ‘What do you want?’

‘Money. What else?’

She froze.

‘Dad’s getting worse. Docs say surgery’s non-negotiable. It’s gonna cost two hundred grand. You’re gonna give it to me.’

Catherine’s face shifted fast.

She’d just been bled by Yvaine for fifteen grand.

Another two hundred K?

She didn’t have that kind of cash lying around in her purse.

She eyed him, arms crossed, one brow lifted high enough to scrape the moon. ‘Is he really that sick? Or did you gamble yourself into another hole?’

The boy’s jaw twitched.

He hesitated, just for a second. ‘Of course it’s Dad. You think I’d lie to you?’

She didn’t even bother hiding the disbelief in her voice. ‘You’ve gambled it away again, haven’t you? I told you, I can’t keep bailing you out. If you’re not gonna quit, then I’m done. I’m not your bloody ATM.’

The boy snatched out his phone and shoved it in her face. ‘Look! The doctor messaged me!’

She didn’t even look at the screen.

Could’ve been porn or pizza coupons for all she cared. ‘I don’t have the money.’

‘Bullshit!’ he shouted. ‘You’re Rhys Granger’s side piece. One of his gifts to you probably costs more than my old man’s surgery!’

That hit home.

Catherine’s face drained to a pale, waxy white. ‘I’m not—’

‘We blew so much cash on you back then,’ the boy spat. ‘And now when it’s me and my dad needing help, you’re suddenly broke?’

Her lips parted, shaky, like she’d just been slapped. ‘I’m not... not a side piece. Rhys and I, we’re together. Properly.’

‘Even better,’ he scoffed. ‘Thought I heard he ditched Mirabelle Vance. So what’s the holdup? Why hasn’t he put a ring on it?’

Catherine took a sharp breath.

Then another.

Like she was trying to bottle her panic and drink it later.

‘I’ll send you the money. In a few days. Just go. If anyone sees you, it’s over for me.’

The boy didn’t budge. ‘A few days? How many’s a few?’

‘Ten.’

‘That’s too long!’

‘Fine! Three. Now go!’

‘Fine. But if that money’s not in my account by day three... you know what I can do.’ He bolted before she could answer, disappearing down the street.

The second he vanished, Rhys’s car rolled up to the kerb.

Catherine clenched her fists so hard her nails dug little half-moons into her palm.

She slid into the passenger seat like nothing had happened.

Rhys glanced at her lazily as he pulled back into traffic. ‘Saw you chatting with someone just now. Friend of yours?’

Catherine forced a breath, smiled like she hadn’t just been blackmailed behind a hedge.

The music in the car helped drown out the thudding in her chest.

‘No. Just someone asking for directions.’

‘Right,’ Rhys muttered, eyes on the road. ‘Figured. No way you’d hang out with someone wearing knock-off trainers.’

Catherine bit down on her lip, nodded, forced a laugh. ‘Yeah. Exactly.’

To Rhys, Catherine was still the same spoilt little debutante, born to designer shoes and Sunday brunches.

Even after moving abroad, she’d been living the rich-girl dream, at least according to her Instagram updates.

The idea that she might know someone outside his curated little world was simply unthinkable.

They drove in silence for a while.

She stared out the window like it might show her a way out.

Finally, she spoke.

Sweet. Careful. Like someone testing the temperature of bath water before diving in.

‘Rhys... I saw this bag the other day. Really pretty. But I’m short on cash.’

‘How much?’

‘Two hundred thousand.’

That got his attention.

His head snapped to her, brows pulling into that tight little V he always wore when his mood curdled.

Which, lately, was all the damn time.

‘I already paid for your flights and hotels in France. What the hell do you need two hundred grand for?’

Catherine pouted. ‘But it’s the last one, Rhys. Limited edition. They’re not making it again. I’ve literally never wanted anything more in my life.’

Rhys didn’t budge. ‘You don’t need a handbag that costs two hundred grand.’

Catherine leaned in.

Close enough that her hair brushed his arm, her breath on his cheek.

She murmured something low against his ear.

His mouth twitched. ‘With your mouth?’

‘And anywhere else you like. I’ll wear the red corset.’

He exhaled hard through his nose. ‘Yeah, alright.’