I Slapped My Fiancé—Then Married His Billionaire Nemesis novel Chapter 193

Chapter 193 Ashton’s POV: Fake Will

“I didn’t bribe anyone! It’s a legal document. You can verify it at the notary’s office! I-”

Franklin choked on his own words.

A rough cough cut him off.

His neck flushed red, and sweat clung to the edge of his hairline.

Ashton said nothing.

His eyes moved slowly over Franklin, as if he was waiting for the performance to continue.

Franklin tried again, repeating the same defense, then again, rearranging the sentences.

Ashton stopped listening.

“That’s enough,” he said flatly. “Looks like you didn’t listen to a single word during our last conversation.”

Franklin blinked. “Wh–what do you mean?”

“I mean I had someone watching you. And your wife. Your nephew. Your niece. That fake lawyer you dragged in whose license was pulled last year. The accountant moving your assets offshore. All of them.” He tapped his phone. “Would you like the photos or the audio first?”

Franklin froze.

Then he started shaking.

His lips parted but nothing came out.

Ashton’s mood lifted–slightly.

He gave it a few seconds, then continued. “I know what your company’s worth. I know your personal assets. I know what your wife’s hiding and how much of your property is tucked under your friends‘ names. I know exactly how much should be listed in that will.”

Franklin wobbled.

His palms hit the table.

He sank into the chair, legs folding like paper.

“You founded Vance Omnia,” Ashton said. “But it stopped being yours the moment you started siphoning assets. You think prison’s not on the table?”

Franklin clenched his teeth until his jaw

trembled. “I didn’t touch anything-”

“You think I’m bluffing?” Ashton said. “Or just stupid?”

Chapter 193 Ashton’s POV: Fake Will

+15 BONUS

Franklin cracked. “I’m her father! You can’t do this! I’ll fix the will, all right? I’ll rewrite the whole fucking thing!”

“Too late. I gave you a chance. You pissed on it.”

Ashton made a call.

Franklin lurched forward, hands up. “Please. Ashton. She’s my daughter… I’ll fix the will. I’ll make a real one. Everything to her. Stocks. Trusts The property in Verbier. She can have all of it. Just–just don’t do this.”

“You already did this,” Ashton said coldly.

“She’ll hate you. You think Mirabelle won’t find out what you did? You get me arrested, she’ll never forgive you-”

“You’re wrong,” Ashton said. “She stopped needing your approval a long time ago.”

“You arrogant little shit. You think you’re protecting her? You’re not. You’re just another man deciding what she gets and what she doesn’t. You think she won’t see it?”

“She’ll see exactly what you are. That’s why I’m not worried.”

Franklin’s chest heaved. “Just let me go. I’ll fix it, Ashton. I’ll fix everything, I swear…”

His gaze darted to the door.

Then he ran.

He barely made it two steps before Ashton kicked a chair into his path.

The leg cracked into Franklin’s calf.

He stumbled, crashed into the door with a loud grunt, slid halfway down it, wheezing.

Then came the knock

Ashton opened the door calmly.

Dominic stood on the threshold, flanked by two officers.

Ashton stepped aside. “He’s all yours.”

When Frankin was read his rights and cuffed, he didn’t react.

He didn’t seem to be aware of what was happening

But when the officers tried to march him to the door, his knees buckled.

One of them had to grab his collar to stop him from collapsing on the carpet

Ashton watched Franklin being hauled out, head low, mouth open, limbs too loose to resist.

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Chapter 193 Ashton’s POV Fake Will

+15 BONUS

The tension in Ashton’s chest lifted.

Franklin’s crimes–money laundering, falsified records, offshore transfers, tax fraud–had racked up a case worth over a hundred million.

He’d be lucky to get out in a decade.

***

Ashton left work early.

Unusual for him, but after the morning’s chaos, he didn’t see the point in waiting around for

more.

He stepped into the house, unfastened his cuffs, and headed straight to the kitchen.

The place was quiet.

Carmen wasn’t in.

He opened the fridge, stared at its contents, and shut it again.

He thought about making dinner.

Mirabelle had tried last night and burned herself judging by the awkwardly wrapped finger she’d tried to hide.

But if he cooked for her tonight, she’d know he knew.

She’d feel self–conscious.

They’d have to talk about it, and that would spiral into another awkward conversation.

Too many ways to misstep.

So he messaged Carmen.

Dinner was nearly ready when Mirabelle came through the door, hair damp from the snow, cheeks pink with cold.

“I have something to show you,” Ashton said, holding out a folder.

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