I Slapped My Fiancé—Then Married His Billionaire Nemesis

‘So who’s the poor girl you’ve tricked into getting engaged to you without telling anyone?’ Reginald demanded. ‘The least you can do is introduce her.’

Reginald Laurent. Ashton’s biological father. Walking proof that money couldn’t buy competence.

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He looked the part—mid-forties, still in decent shape, sharp enough jawline—but inside? Empty.

Everyone in Skyline City knew old man Edouard, king of Laurent Global Holdings, would rather set fire to his empire than hand Reginald the keys.

The guy didn’t have the grit. Never had.

Maybe Reginald knew it too. Maybe that was why he spent most of his time punching down, taking out his insecurities on people who could not punch back. Like young Ashton.

Once upon a time, Ashton used to care. Used to wonder why his father treated him like he was something scraped off a shoe.

But those days were dead and buried.

Ashton did not even look up from his laptop. He had a conference call with London, Paris, and Frankfurt in two minutes. Reginald barging in, as usual, wasn’t enough to break his focus.

‘She’s here at the party. You’ll meet her soon enough,’ Ashton said, voice flat.

‘But, Ash, what your father means is, we don’t know anything about her,’ Gwendolyn Laurent piped up. ‘I mean, sure, we know her name and that she’s a...’ Her mouth twisted like she was chewing glass, ‘a barista. But are you sure this is the right match? You need a wife who can handle the mayor’s galas, investor dinners, charity auctions. Is a barista really going to survive in our world?’

Ashton finally looked up, staring her dead in the eye.