The Real Heiress Strikes Back (Ashley and Dimitri) novel Chapter 11

“Did you see that?” whispered someone in the crowd.

“She’s gorgeous! Isn’t she Emerald?”

Ashley heard the low hum of voices swirling around her as she brushed herself off, her face burning with embarrassment.

She refused to meet anyone’s gaze. Instead, she turned sharply, ignoring the flashing cameras, and strode toward the exit.

“Ashley, wait!” Demitri called out, weaving through the murmuring crowd to catch up with her.

Ashley didn’t stop. She kept her eyes straight ahead, jaw tight, her heels clicking sharply against the floor.

“Emerald,” Demitri tried again, his voice softer but insistent. “Can we just—please, stop for a second?”

Ashley spun around suddenly, her eyes blazing. “Emerald, huh? Now I’m Emerald to you and no longer Ashley, right? Isn’t that why you have been budging me?”

“What?!” He exclaimed loudly. “Of course not.”

“Then What for, Demitri? So you can humiliate me some more in front of everyone? No, thanks. I’ve had enough of your theatrics for a lifetime.”

Before she could turn back, Demitri grabbed her wrist gently but firmly, forcing her to face him. “Listen to me, please,” he said. “I need to explain—”

“Explain what?” she snapped, jerking her hand away. “Explain how you couldn’t keep your personal life under control? How your actions keep pulling me into your mess? I don’t care, Demitri. Whatever you’re about to say, I don’t care!”

He sighed heavily, running a hand through his hair. “I’m sorry, Ashley. I never meant for things to get this bad.”

“Sorry?” she scoffed, crossing her arms. “That’s what this is about? You’re sorry because you’re scared someone’s going to figure out that your ex-wife, the woman you treated like shit, is actually Emerald Donaldson, right? It’s your reputation you’re worried about, isn’t it?”

“No!” Demitri protested, stepping closer. “It’s not just my reputation—”

“Oh, save it!” she interrupted, her voice sharp as a whip. “I’ve heard enough excuses from you to last me a lifetime. Just admit it, Demitri. You don’t care about me—you never did.”

Before Demitri could respond, a mocking voice sliced through the tension.

“Well, this is awkward,” Elena drawled, her heels clicking as she approached. Her smirk was as sharp as the glint in her eyes. “Quite the show you two are putting on for the cameras. The exes, reunited under scandalous circumstances. How romantic.”

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