I Slapped My Fiancé—Then Married His Billionaire Nemesis
Chapter 80 - 81 Ghost from the Past

Chapter 80: Chapter 81 Ghost from the Past

I didn’t even glance at her.

Just kept shovelling spicy chicken over rice into my mouth.

Serenna dropped herself into the seat opposite mine and dumped her shopping bags onto the floor.

She huffed. ‘Not gonna talk? Last time we saw each other, you slapped me and ripped out a chunk of my hair. It still hasn’t grown back, by the way. You’ve got some nerve not showing up to apologise. Now you’re blanking me like I don’t exist. Ever heard of basic manners?’

‘Manners? You’re the one who sat down without an invitation, is currently spraying spit all over my jerk chicken, and occupying a seat an actual paying customer might want. So unless you’re planning to order something, eat it, and shut up, I suggest you find the nearest exit and flounce right back out.’

Her mouth opened, then closed.

She choked on her own comeback for a second, probably trying to decide if she should scream or sulk.

Then her face lit up with petty delight.

‘I just figured you might want some company,’ she said, voice syrupy with fake sympathy. ‘I heard the Grangers pulled back all their wedding invites. After you chased Rhys around like a loyal golden retriever for years, he’s finally tossed you. Poor Mira.’

She clicked her tongue. ‘What now? Aunt Caroline said you’re even cutting ties with your family. So if no man wants you, and your family’s out, what are you gonna do—live under a bridge?’

I gave her a cold smile. ‘Wow. Everything out your mouth starts and ends with men. Can’t survive without a dick in your orbit? I’m actually curious to see what kind of prince charming ends up stuck with you. You had a crush on Rhys, didn’t you? Well, now’s your chance. Just a heads-up, though, Catherine is in the picture now. You’ll have to fight her for him.’

‘I so don’t like him anymore,’ she denied. ‘He’s a total player. I’d never go for someone like that.’

She stared at me, hunting for cracks.

Probably expected me to be moping, mascara running, wailing about lost love and betrayal.

But all she got was the top of my head and the sound of my fork scraping the plate.

She snapped her fingers. ‘Oi, are you deaf? Don’t care about Rhys anymore? Fine. But I bet you’ll care about what I’m about to say.’

‘I bet I won’t.’

‘I mean it’s big. Like, life-altering.’

I wiped my mouth. ‘Still don’t care.’

Her nostrils flared. ‘God, you’re such a cow. Fine, I’ll tell you anyway—Isobel Brooke’s back in town.’

My hand stalled an inch from my iced coffee.

My expression didn’t change—much—but the twitch in my brow must’ve betrayed me.

Serenna saw it.

She latched onto that flicker like a parasite finding blood.

‘Ha! I knew it. You’re not so unbothered after all. You should be scared. Remember what happened? Her family shipped her off because of you. Word is, she’s had it rough out there. You think she forgot? You think you’re not at the top of her revenge list?’

Her grin stretched like she thought she’d won something.

But the only thing she’d ever win was Most Likely to Be Slapped at a Wedding.

I sipped my coffee.

Bit too much ice, not enough espresso.

I knew Serenna wasn’t warning me out of the kindness of her cold, botoxed heart.

She just wanted to see if I’d flinch.

See if the big, bad Mira Vance still had old ghosts rattling around in her closet.

And okay. If we’re dragging skeletons out, let’s talk about Isobel bloody Brooke.

Back in school, if there was one person who could make me sweat, it wasn’t a teacher, or a parent, or even my high-maintenance sister.

It was her.

Isobel.

Queen Bitch of Westbridge Prep.

Mean girl royalty, with just enough money and power to ruin someone’s life before breakfast and still make it to third period looking fresh as fuck.

While I kept my head down with textbooks and sketchbooks, she held court from the back row, doing her makeup and filming TikToks for her adoring fans.

We stayed out of each other’s orbit.

Until she made me her target.

All because the guy she liked had a crush on me.

Not that I ever flirted back.

But girls like her don’t need a reason, just a target.

Hell, I didn’t even know the guy’s name.

Didn’t know the real reason until later.

Until I beat it out of her.

To Isobel, the idea that someone might choose me over her wasn’t just unthinkable—it was blasphemy.

And I had to be punished.

I ignored the passive-aggressive digs and the giggles behind my back.

Every school had that, and I had better things to worry about.

But me not reacting only fuelled her.

She’d graduated beyond harmless locker room pranks.

The bathroom lock-ins and the water dumps didn’t get the reaction she wanted, so she went full sociopath—she spiked my drink at the school dance.

Someone swapped my soda for vodka—laced with something else—and before I knew it, I was stumbling like a half-sedated raccoon.

Dizzy. Blurred. Disoriented.

Led out of the dance hall and straight into a trap.

Into a building.

To some scumbag who’d been circling me for months.

What they didn’t plan on was me coming back swinging.

I smashed his nose with a jagged piece of rebar.

Might have also broken a couple of ribs.

I escaped, called the cops, filed the report, did everything right.

And then my parents dropped the case.

Turns out, the Brooke family had connections.

They threw hush money at my parents, painted it as a ‘teenage misunderstanding’.

The Vances took the payout.

I wasn’t even consulted.

Just a signature away from justice, and they folded.

So I handled it myself.