I Slapped My Fiancé—Then Married His Billionaire Nemesis

Crack!

My fiancé hit me.

Three minutes ago, I had been daydreaming about how to decorate our ridiculously expensive penthouse apartment, where every corner looked like it belonged on the cover of a magazine.

Two minutes ago, I accidentally broke a mug.

Then, Rhys slapped me across the face—hard.

My cheek burned like it had been seared by fire. It took a full thirty seconds before my brain restarted, slowly piecing reality back together.

"Are you fucking insane?" I gritted my teeth, forcing the words through the cracks of my jaw.

Rhys's lips were pressed into a cold, tight line, his expression dark and resolute. "It was just a mug with Catherine's face on it," he said, as if my reaction was an overblown performance, not the result of something horrifying he had just done.

"You have got to be fucking kidding me." I stared at him in disbelief, my chest heaving as rage and humiliation churned violently inside me, ready to explode.

For half a second—just half—something like guilt flickered across his face. Then it vanished, consumed by a storm of fury.

"No, you're the insane one!" he roared. "I already agreed to marry you—what more do you want? Catherine's gone, but you still broke that mug on purpose!"

His voice trembled with anger. "She was your sister! She had to leave because of you! And now you're jealous of her? You won't rest until every trace of her is erased, will you?"

The hatred in his eyes cut deeper than the slap.

My cheek throbbed. My hand was still bleeding. But nothing hurt more than my heart.

I forced myself to unclench my jaw and made one last attempt to explain. "It wasn't me. I never asked her to leave."

Technically speaking, I understood why someone might say that. Catherine had left behind a letter. In it, she said she'd seen my diary, realized I had a crush on Rhys, and decided to "let go," to "let him be yours."

I don't think she ever understood that a diary meant privacy. I never meant for anyone to read it, but not only did she read it—she told everyone.

No one cared about the pain I felt when my secret was exposed. I was dragged out, nailed to a pillar of shame, forced to pay for her so-called noble sacrifice.

To my family, it was like I'd been bumped up to the starting lineup out of nowhere, replacing the golden girl—I should've been grateful. Even if Rhys had stabbed me in the gut, they'd still find a way to excuse it.

It was as if my parents had always hated me. No matter how much better I did than Catherine, they always saw me as bitter, as someone who couldn't protect her fragile pride.

The searing pain on my cheek intensified.

My fingers clenched tightly around the engagement ring. A wave of heat—anger, humiliation, resentment—rose in my throat.

Hot tears welled in my eyes, blurring my vision. I blinked fast, wiping them away before they could fall.

I would not cry. I would never show weakness in front of him.

I took a heavy step toward the door, struggling to move. I had to get out of there, or I would completely fall apart. Whatever shred of dignity I had left—I couldn't let it be destroyed in front of this man.

Rhys suddenly grabbed my wrist and yanked me back. "Clean it up."

I looked up at him in disbelief, needing to confirm I'd heard him right.

"You broke the mug. You clean up the pieces." His voice was icy, absolute.

He had to be insane.

"No." I lifted my chin and spat the word without an ounce of compromise.

His face tightened, jaw clenched. "You sure you want to do this?"

"Yes. I said no." My eyes were red, but they blazed with defiance as I stared him down without flinching.

If love meant I had to grind my self-respect into the dirt, then it was worthless to me.

The air between us was taut enough to snap. I could almost hear it crackling. The fury in his eyes was an uncontrollable blaze, threatening to consume me. And beneath that fire, I saw something else—disbelief. The once docile little lamb had bared her fangs.

He took a step closer, menace radiating from him. "Last chance. If you don't obey me, then we—"

"—are over," I finished for him, cold and final.

Shock froze his face. For a moment, the air went still. He hadn't expected me to actually say it.

While he was caught in that moment of confusion, I wrenched my arm free from his grip. The taste of freedom hadn't yet bloomed in my chest when he snapped back to life, grabbing my arm again with brutal force.

Now.

I spun around without hesitation and raised my hand—smack! A resounding slap landed hard across Rhys's handsome, arrogant face.

The air froze again, thick with silence.

My palm tingled slightly, but it brought a rush of fierce, unprecedented satisfaction.

Rhys staggered back a few steps, his eyes wide with shock and disbelief—not from the pain, but from a world turned upside down. He never thought I would dare. After all, I had once loved him so deeply.

I lowered my hand, lifted my chin, and looked calmly at his stunned expression. I gave him a faint smile. "Now we're even."

Without waiting another moment, I dragged my feet away from that suffocating hell.

If I stayed even one more second, I would break down. I'd rather choke on my own tears than let him see them fall.

Then—thud—I fell.

High heels and emotional chaos are a terrible match.

Pain shot through my palms and knees as they scraped against the hard marble. Blood surged out instantly, but I barely felt it.

I got up, grabbed my purse, and kept walking.

Home. I just wanted to go home. Away from all of this. Away from him.

Like a woman fleeing the scene of a crime, I burst out of the building—only to slam into a wall of muscle and the intoxicating scent of expensive cologne.

I looked up—and saw sharp, sculpted features with an aura so commanding it could silence a room. He looked like the kind of man who, if you pissed him off, wouldn't just ruin your life—he'd erase your entire existence.

Unfortunately, that only made him more attractive.

For a second, I wished he would throw me over his shoulder and carry me to his lair—my face flushed red instantly. If this were a porno, the camera angle would be an absolute disaster.

I snapped myself back to reality.

"Sorry," I mumbled and rushed into the elevator of my apartment building.

Back upstairs, I rummaged through my bag. My heart sank.

No keys.

Of course. The universe had clearly declared today The End of Mira Day.

Frustration and helplessness surged in my chest. I kicked off my heels and shook the doorknob violently. It didn't help—but I needed to let it out. Why did everyone always choose Catherine?! Hadn't I done enough?

I collapsed against the wall, sliding down to the cold floor as sobs tore from my throat. The tears came in a flood, impossible to stop.

Just as I was nearly choking on my own cries, a voice—low, smooth, like black velvet—cut through the air behind me.

"Your key."

Fury sparked in my veins. Why did someone always interrupt me just when I was about to get it all out?

Annoyed, I turned, ready to glare—only to freeze.

Through tear-blurred eyes, I saw him again. The man I had bumped into downstairs—the one who looked like he had stepped out of a Renaissance painting.

"Your key fell," he said, raising an eyebrow as his gaze landed on the scattered contents of my purse. "That's probably why you couldn't find it."

I stared at the key resting in his elegant hand, my face flushing so hot it could've lit a match. I snatched it from him and fumbled to unlock the door, stumbling inside without a word.

It wasn't until my back hit the door that I realized—I hadn't even thanked him.

Great job, Mira. You absolute idiot.

Hesitating, I crept toward the peephole. Through that tiny lens, I saw him calmly turn, unlock the door directly across the hall, and stroll inside.

He lived across from me?

He must have just moved in. With a face like that—and that aura—there's no way I wouldn't have noticed before.

Wait, Mira. What are you doing? You're seriously letting a hot new neighbor make you forget the hell Rhys just put you through?

No. Absolutely not. All men are trash. Always.

I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to steady my racing heartbeat, reminding myself not to be so stupid again. But no matter how hard I tried, that sculpted face kept flashing through my mind.

I needed ice—for my racing pulse, and more urgently, for the stinging pain on my cheek.

Just as I forced myself up to head to the kitchen, my phone rang, shrill and sharp.

One glance at the screen made my whole body go cold.

Mom.

I couldn't ignore the call. If I did, she would destroy my career without hesitation. She was absolutely capable of it.

The moment I picked up, her voice sliced through the air—cold and merciless.

"Mira, you must be insane! How dare you do something so disgraceful to Rhys! You apologize to him right now, or you're no longer our daughter!"

I opened my mouth to explain, stunned—but she hung up before I could get a single word out.

I gripped my phone tightly. Why was it that no matter how hard I tried, I still couldn't earn even a sliver of their love? And Catherine—she never had to do anything, yet she was their perfect, precious jewel.

Enough.

I thought if I worked hard enough, my family, my fiancé—they would love me.

But that's never going to happen.

I have to reclaim the self-respect I lost long ago.

I have to break off this engagement with Rhys—no matter the consequences.