I Slapped My Fiancé—Then Married His Billionaire Nemesis

Ashton watched Mira snap photos of the marriage certificate.

When she mentioned Yvaine, he had the dumbest thought: I want to show someone too.

That’s how he ended up calling Cassian Langford.

‘Drinks tonight. The Rookery. Nine.’

At 9.02 p.m., Cassian was there in their usual private room, already half a bottle deep and bitching.

‘You ghost me yesterday, drag me out tonight, and now we’re just... sitting? Mate, what’s the deal? And where’s the rest of the crew?’

Ashton barely opened his mouth when Cassian suggested, ‘Should I call in a couple waiters to play Omaha or something? This is tragic.’

‘Go ahead.’

Tʜe source of this ᴄontent ɪs novᴇl(ꜰ)ire.ɴet

Two waiters came in and shuffled cards.

Ashton sat to Cassian’s left, casually placing his right hand on the table.

Right in Cassian’s line of sight.

The ring wasn’t just visible—it practically screamed.