I Slapped My Fiancé—Then Married His Billionaire Nemesis novel Chapter 213

Chapter 213 Studio Smashed

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Chapter 213 Studio Smashed

We reached the pavement.

The glass doors slid shut behind us, sealing off the last of the noise.

Fabrizio checked his watch, then added, “I’m only in Skyline until tomorrow. I’d love to hear from you before I go.”

I nodded. “I’ll think it over.”

He held my gaze a beat longer than necessary.

Then, tires screeched against the curb. 1

A black Maybach rolled to a stop half a meter from my boots.

The rear door swung open.

Ashton stepped out.

Black bomber jacket, vintage–wash jeans, dark sunglasses with thin gold frames.

His hair was messier than usual, fringe damp against his temples. 1

He moved to my side, one hand slipping into his pocket, the other adjusting his cuff.

His eyes, behind the lenses, were fixed on Fabrizio.

Cold. Measuring. Not friendly.

Ashton didn’t remove the sunglasses.

He raised his chin slightly and said, “Aren’t you going to introduce us?”

“This is Fabrizio Marchetti,” I said. “CEO of Valmont & Cie.”

Then I looked at Ashton.

His mouth didn’t move, but I knew what he wanted me to say.

I smiled and said, as casually as if it were old news, “And this is my husband. Ashton Laurent.”

The sunglasses didn’t shift, but I saw his cheek twitch.

His eyes–well, what I could see of them–crinkled faintly.

Still, the rest of his face stayed neutral.

Fabrizio offered his hand first. “Mr. Laurent. I’ve seen your name all over the headlines lately. Didn’t expect to bump into you here.”

Ashton shook his hand briefly. “Hi.”

“You’re not quite what I imagined. In a good way. It’s a leasure to meet you.”

Ashton gave a single nod.

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Chapter 213 Studio Smashed

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He glanced between us, then asked flatly, “Was this a work thing?”

“Yeah,” I said. “We were discussing Valmont & Cie’s autumn–winter launch for next year.”

Fabrizio caught on quickly. “We’ve wrapped up. I’ll leave you to it. My car’s here.”

A silver SUV pulled up beside us.

He raised two fingers to his ear in a mock phone gesture. “Don’t forget to call me.”

Then he got in and the car pulled away.

Ashton waited until the SUV disappeared down the block before yanking off his sunglasses. “Who was that?”

“I told you. He runs Valmont & Cie.”

“He looks fifty.” 1

“He’s thirty–six.”

“He looks fifty.” 1

I ignored him, turned and shouted to Daniel, who was still loitering behind a food truck, “Go find dinner or something. I’ll cover it.”

Daniel gave a thumbs–up without turning around.

Ashton and I drove across town and stopped at a carrier shop.

I signed for the replacement SIM card with my old number.

As soon as I slotted it in, the phone buzzed.

Caroline.

I didn’t need to ask what it was about.

Franklin’s fraud case was moving faster than expected.

Last I heard, the Vances had burned through every contact they had trying to stall it.

Looks like they’d finally run out.

I answered.

Caroline’s voice hit me before the screen even lit up.

High–pitched, breathless, full of fake tears. “You finally picked up! Are you really going to throw your own father in jail?”

“That’s not up to me. That’s up to the cops and a judge.

“you

“You-” She cut herself off, dragged in a shaky breath, then switched tactics. “I’ll return the money. All of it. There’s no need to take it this far. Just–just talk to Ashton for me. Please?”

“It’s already too late. Let the court decide. If he didn’t break the law, he won’t be convicted.”

Silence for a beat. Then she snapped. “Mirabelle Vance!”

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Chapter 213 Studio Smashed

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Her voice turned sharp and fast, like she’d been waiting to go off the whole time. “You ungrateful little bitch. We raised you, we paid for everything, and this is how you repay us? You want your father in prison? You’ve got no conscience. If I’d known, I would’ve dumped you on some stranger when you were six!”

She didn’t stop. “It’s not like we’re refusing to return the damn money, but you have to destroy everything, don’t you? You and your filthy rich husband think you’re untouchable. Just wait. I’ll smash that pathetic little studio of yours to pieces if you don’t make him withdraw the charges!”

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