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

Applause rattled through the hall as the contestant before me stepped down.


I walked to the centre of the platform.


The screen behind me buzzed once, then flared to life.


White light burned the edge of my vision.


My palms were dry; I’d made sure of it.


I hadn’t come all the way here and worked weeks on four hours’ sleep a night just to flinch now.


I gripped the mic in one hand, the laser pointer in the other.


‘Good afternoon, judges, guests. I’m Mirabelle Vance.’


I paused just long enough to force them to look up.


‘The theme: Evening Gala. Gemstones. Composure. I designed a four-piece set intended for high-profile, high-visibility events. Met-tier, red carpet-ready. But every clasp, hinge, and suspension curve is engineered for full comfort. Nothing that requires styling glue or double-sided tape to sit right.’


Chapter 184 Livestreamed Squabble