Jessica C. Dolan

Being second best is practically in my DNA. My sister got the love, the attention, the spotlight. And now, even her damn fiancé.
Technically, Rhys Granger was my fiancé now—billionaire, devastatingly hot, and a walking Wall Street wet dream. My parents shoved me into the engagement after Catherine disappeared, and honestly? I didn’t mind. I’d crushed on Rhys for years. This was my chance, right? My turn to be the chosen one?
Wrong.
One night, he slapped me. Over a mug. A stupid, chipped, ugly mug my sister gave him years ago. That’s when it hit me—he didn’t love me. He didn’t even see me. I was just a warm-bodied placeholder for the woman he actually wanted. And apparently, I wasn’t even worth as much as a glorified coffee cup.
So I slapped him right back, dumped his ass, and prepared for disaster—my parents losing their minds, Rhys throwing a billionaire tantrum, his terrifying family plotting my untimely demise.
Obviously, I needed alcohol. A lot of alcohol.
Enter him.
Tall, dangerous, unfairly hot. The kind of man who makes you want to sin just by existing. I’d met him only once before, and that night, he just happened to be at the same bar as my drunk, self-pitying self. So I did the only logical thing: I dragged him into a hotel room and ripped off his clothes.
It was reckless. It was stupid. It was completely ill-advised.
But it was also: Best. Sex. Of. My. Life.
And, as it turned out, the best decision I’d ever made.
Because my one-night stand isn’t just some random guy. He’s richer than Rhys, more powerful than my entire family, and definitely more dangerous than I should be playing with.
And now, he’s not letting me go.

I Slapped My Fiancé—Then Married His Billionaire Nemesis

Ashton was scanning the hallway when the stairwell door flew open and Mirabelle barrelled out.


She looked furious. Gorgeous, obviously—but furious.


And then, like a nasty aftertaste, Rhys Granger followed her out.


Ashton’s jaw tightened. He’d never met the guy in person, but he recognised him from the photos and the extensive background check.


Rhys, the ex-fiancé. A trust fund guy with anger management issues, and apparently, the emotional maturity of a wet sock.


The moment Ashton saw the expression on Rhys’s face, he knew what was about to happen. The guy had that look—the same look idiots get right before they do something incredibly stupid.


Ashton moved fast. Long strides, no hesitation.


Mirabelle clocked him coming, surprise flickering in her eyes, but there wasn’t time to say anything.


Rhys was already raising his arm, going for a cheap shot from behind like the absolute coward he was.


Chapter 17 Ashton’s POV: Cut the Pretence