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

I was slouched on the couch, flicking through channels, when I noticed a white box on the coffee table.


Ashton came into the living room. ‘It’s for you. Open it.’


‘For me?’ I looked up, surprised, and reached for the box, flipping the lid open.


I froze, my fingers hovering over the smooth metal.


He stepped into my line of sight, standing right in front of me. ‘They are our wedding rings.’


I glanced at the rings again. A pair of platinum bands, each with a small band of delicate diamonds embedded in them. The first letter of our names—‘M’ and ‘A’—engraved inside.


I didn’t reach for them. ‘What happened to the rings we wore to your grandfather’s party? I probably lost mine somewhere in the pool.’


‘It has been found, but that was a mere prop, bought at a moment’s notice.’


‘It was good enough to fool the guests.’


Chapter 112 Rings