Hell Hath no fury like a billionaire's Ex-Chapter 101: The Final Straw

Liam’s POV

The screen glowed with Holbrook’s name—a rare sight these days. Two weeks had passed since our last conversation, and his silence had spoken volumes.

"Richard," I answered, my voice raspy from disuse. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

A heavy sigh greeted me. "Liam. We need to talk."

"I gathered that much." I winced as I pushed myself upright, glancing at the clock: 9:37 AM. The half-empty bottle of whiskey from last night still sat on the coffee table, surrounded by discarded takeout containers and crumpled papers.

"I’ve been attempting to contact for the past few days," Holbrook said, his usually measured tone edged with something I hadn’t heard before—defeat. "Regarding the offer we discussed... about renegotiating."

I reached for the whiskey, not bothering with a glass. "And?"

"And nothing, Liam. Absolutely nothing. No response, no acknowledgment." He paused. "I think it’s time we face facts."

"Which are?" I took a bitter swig, welcoming the burn.

"That I’m done." The words landed like a physical blow. "I’m dropping your case."

The bottle froze halfway to my lips. "You’re what?"

"You heard me." Holbrook’s voice hardened. "This case is destroying my reputation. Twenty-five years building my practice, and in more than half a year with you, I’ve become a laughingstock among my peers."

"So you’re just giving up?" I scoffed, anger flaring. "Some lawyer you turned out to be."

"Don’t you dare question my competence," Holbrook snapped, his professional veneer cracking completely. "I’ve won cases that would make your head spin. I’ve negotiated settlements that seemed impossible. But you...you’re not just difficult, Liam. You’re sabotaging yourself at every turn."

I laughed, a hollow sound that echoed in my empty living room. "That’s rich. Now it’s my fault Diane’s turned into a vindictive she-devil?"

"It’s obvious she has no intention of negotiating," Holbrook continued as if I hadn’t spoken. "And frankly, if I were in her position, I wouldn’t either. You’ve played her for a fool repeatedly."

"I’ve played her?" I stood abruptly, ignoring the stabbing pain in my side. "She’s the one who—"

"You’ve created chaos at every opportunity," Holbrook interrupted, his voice rising. "You’ve stood her up at scheduled meetings. You’ve leaked stories to the press. You’ve been photographed with other women while your pregnant wife sits at home preparing to give birth to your children."

The reminder of the twins sent a jolt through me—a momentary crack in my armor. I pushed it aside. "That’s not what happened."

"It doesn’t matter what happened!" Holbrook was almost shouting now. "It matters what people believe happened. And right now, everyone believes you’re the villain in this story."

I paced the length of my living room, trailing my fingers along the back of the couch for support. "Since when do you care about public opinion? I thought your job was to win cases, not popularity contests."

"My job is to protect my clients, even from themselves when necessary." His tone turned cold. "When I called Joan last week, do you know what happened? She and Diane practically laughed in my face. They’re not negotiating anymore—they’re waiting for you to self-destruct completely."

"So what are you saying? That I should just surrender?" The very thought made my blood boil. "Sign whatever papers they put in front of me and crawl away with my tail between my legs?"

"I’m saying I’m done watching you sabotage yourself." A heavy silence fell before he continued, his voice quieter but no less intense. "Do you have any idea what it was like explaining to my partners why I was representing the man who was caught on national television, half-naked and abandoned on the street?"

I froze. "What are you talking about?"

Memory came flooding back in humiliating fragments.

"Jesus Christ, Liam," Holbrook continued. "I sometimes wonder how you became CEO of Synergy Sphere in the first place. The man I’ve been dealing with these past months couldn’t run a lemonade stand, let alone a company."

His words stung more than I cared to admit. "Careful, Richard," I warned.

"No, you be careful. Your wife—who, may I remind you, is carrying your children—has conducted herself with dignity throughout this entire ordeal. One interview. That’s all it took for her to win the public’s sympathy. One poised, mature appearance where she spoke about her plans for the future."

"It was all an act," I spat.

"While you," he continued as if I hadn’t spoken, "are seen falling out of hotels, picking fights, and generally behaving like a man with no sense of responsibility whatsoever."

I sank back onto the couch, suddenly exhausted. "You don’t understand. She’s not who you think she is."

"Then enlighten me," Holbrook challenged. "What don’t I understand?"

The dam broke. "She held me hostage," I said, the words tumbling out in a desperate rush. "In the hospital. She threatened me—said I had to sign the divorce papers, give her custody of the twins, agree to all her financial demands. Otherwise, she’d ’make my pain a beginning.’ Those were her exact words, Richard. She was going to kill me."

The silence that followed stretched uncomfortably. Then, to my disbelief, Holbrook laughed—a short, incredulous sound that felt like a slap.

"You expect me to believe that your pregnant wife, who barely reaches your shoulder, held you hostage and threatened your life?"

"It’s the truth," I insisted, gripping the phone so tightly my knuckles whitened. "I heard her on the phone with someone—planning to ’finish me off.’ That’s why I left the hospital."

"Liam," Holbrook said, his voice suddenly gentle in a way that was somehow worse than his anger. "Listen to yourself. These are paranoid delusions."

"They’re not delusions!" I shouted, surging to my feet again. "She’s changed. She’s not the woman I married anymore."

"No, she’s not," Holbrook agreed quietly. "She’s stronger now. She finally realized her worth."

I shook my head vehemently, though he couldn’t see me. "You don’t know what she’s capable of."

"I warned you," he said, his professional tone returning. "I told you to reconsider your position weeks ago, when we still had leverage. You refused. Now Diane holds all the cards, and I won’t let myself get caught in your downfall."

"So that’s it? You’re abandoning me when I need you most?" The irony of my words wasn’t lost on me—how many times had Diane felt the same?

"I’m cutting my losses," Holbrook corrected. "My advice? Sign the papers, Liam. Give her what she wants. This fight isn’t worth what it’s costing you."

A bitter laugh escaped me. "I thought you were supposed to be on my side."

"I am on your side. That’s why I’m telling you to end this farce." His voice softened slightly. "You never loved her anyway, did you? Not really. So why destroy what’s left of your life trying to punish her?"

The question hit like a physical blow, forcing the air from my lungs. Had I loved Diane? Once, perhaps. Before success had twisted something inside me, before I’d convinced myself I deserved more than the quiet contentment she offered.

"You’re right," I said finally. "I didn’t love her the way she deserved."

"Then let her go," Holbrook urged. "Sign the papers. Walk away. Rebuild what you can of your life."

The thought of surrender left a bitter taste in my mouth. "And if I don’t?"

Holbrook sighed, a sound heavy with resignation. "Then you’ll do it without me. My resignation letter is already drafted. I’ll be sending it to you and filing with the court by the end of day."

"Richard—" I began, but he cut me off.

"My decision is final. I’ve stayed far longer than I should have out of respect for our prior relationship. But I won’t watch you self-destruct any longer." He paused. "I truly hope you find your way through this, Liam. But I can’t be your guide anymore."

The line went dead, leaving me alone in the silence of my empty house. I stared at the phone in my hand, half-expecting it to ring again, for Holbrook to call back with some solution I hadn’t considered.

But the screen remained dark. Another abandonment to add to the growing list.

I poured another drink, raising the glass in a mock toast to the empty room.

The whiskey burned going down, but it couldn’t match the fire of realization spreading through me: I was truly alone now. No wife. No best friend. No attorney. Even Thomas had stopped coming by, his patience with me finally exhausted after our last conversation.

I had built my life on the premise that success was all that mattered...that power and wealth could compensate for any personal failing. Now, surrounded by the trappings of that success, I was discovering just how hollow a victory it had been.

The divorce papers sat on my drawer where they’d been for months, Diane’s signature already in place, waiting for mine. My eyes drifted to them where its safely kept, then back to my drink.

"Not yet," I whispered to no one. "I’m not done fighting yet."

But even as I said the words, a small voice inside me...one that sounded suspiciously like Noah’s...whispered back: "What exactly are you fighting for?"

And for the first time in my life, I had no answer.