Hell Hath no fury like a billionaire's Ex-Chapter 34: Reclamation

Diane’s POV

I stared at the text from Joan with a mix of disbelief and triumph. After a month of being locked out of my own home by Liam, Holbrook had finally sent over the security codes to the mansion.

"Court order worked, but there’s something else I’d like to discuss with you when you get home," Joan’s message read. "Holbrook caved. Here are the codes to the mansion. Let me know when you’re going."

My fingers trembled slightly as I typed my reply.

"Heading there now. Need to get those documents for Robert."

I set my phone down and took a deep breath, trying to calm the storm of emotions brewing inside me. This wasn’t just about retrieving work documents anymore—it was about reclaiming a piece of myself that Liam had tried to take away.

As I grabbed my purse and car keys, a flicker of anxiety sparked in my chest. I hadn’t been back to the mansion since the day I discovered Liam’s betrayal. Would the memories be too overwhelming? Would I find more evidence of his infidelity?

Part of me didn’t want to know. But a stronger part needed to face whatever awaited me there.

The drive to the estate felt surreal. Each familiar turn of the road brought back memories of happier times—when I’d return home, eagerly anticipating Liam’s embrace. Now, I was returning as an intruder, armed with nothing but a court order and security codes.

I pulled up to the imposing wrought iron gates that guarded the Ashton estate. For a moment, I just sat there, staring at the mansion that loomed in the distance. The sprawling structure, with its manicured lawns and elegant architecture, had once represented everything I thought I wanted—security, success, love.

Now, it just looked like an elaborate facade, as false as my marriage had been.

Gathering my courage, I punched in the code Joan had sent me. The gates swung open with a mechanical hum that used to sound like a welcome but now felt strange.

I drove slowly up the winding driveway, half expecting Liam to appear and block my path. But the grounds were quiet—almost eerily so.

I parked my car in front of the main entrance, in the exact spot where I used to park every day. Old habits die hard, I suppose.

Taking another deep breath, I approached the front door. The security guard greeted me with a little bow. I responded with a curt nod—I wasn’t cut out for pleasantries.

I was hoping he’d stop me, but he didn’t.

What was Liam up to? Had he informed them I was coming?

I noticed that he had hired new security in my absence.

I entered the second code. The lock clicked open, and I pushed the heavy door inward.

The familiar scent of the house – a blend of expensive wood polish, fresh flowers, and that distinctive aroma that was uniquely ours – hit me like a physical force. I stood frozen in the grand foyer, momentarily overwhelmed by the sensory assault of memories.

"Focus, Diane," I whispered to myself. "Get the documents and go."

I moved purposefully through the house, trying not to let my eyes linger on the photos still hanging on the walls – vacation snapshots, formal portraits, moments of a shared life now shattered. The library, where I kept most of my work files, was located at the back of the house. I walked briskly, my heels clicking against the marble floors, the sound echoing in the empty space.

The library was exactly as I had left it. My organized filing system remained intact, a small mercy I hadn’t expected. I went straight to the mahogany filing cabinet in the corner and pulled open the third drawer. Relief washed over me as I spotted the labeled folder containing the market analysis report document Robert needed.

I flipped through the papers quickly, confirming everything was there. It would have been so easy to just take the folder and leave, to escape this house of memories and betrayal.

But something held me back, a nagging need to see what had become of the home I’d poured so much of myself into.

Almost against my better judgment, I began to wander through the rooms.

The kitchen where I’d spent countless hours perfecting recipes for dinner parties. The living room where we’d entertained guests, always the picture of the perfect couple.

The sunroom where I used to read on lazy Sunday mornings, Liam bringing me coffee and stealing kisses between pages.

Each room held ghosts of a life I’d thought was real. Now, I saw the subtle changes – a different arrangement of furniture here, a new piece of art there. Little by little, Liam was erasing me from the space.

Before I could stop myself, I found my feet carrying me up the grand staircase toward our bedroom – no, Liam’s bedroom now. I hesitated at the door, my hand on the knob. Did I really want to see what lay beyond? But I’d come this far. I needed to see it all, to truly close this Chapter of my life.

I pushed open the door and stepped inside. The room was immaculate as always – Liam had always been fastidious about our bedroom. My gaze immediately went to the walls, searching for the photos of us that had once adorned them.

As I suspected, they were gone, replaced by generic landscape paintings. It was as if I had never existed in this space.

Tears pricked at my eyes as I moved further into the room, running my fingers along the edge of the dresser that had once held my things.

Out of habit, I reached for the drawer where I’d kept my jewelry and personal items. To my surprise, it slid open. Had Liam been so confident I wouldn’t return that he hadn’t even bothered to empty my drawers?

The sound of my phone ringing made me jump. I fumbled to grab it from my purse, saw Robert’s name on the screen, but in my haste, the phone slipped from my grasp and clattered to the floor, sliding partially under the bed.

"Damn it," I muttered, dropping to my knees gently to retrieve it. The call had already gone to voicemail. As I reached under the bed, my fingers brushed against something that wasn’t my phone. Curious, I pulled it out.

An ankle bracelet. Delicate silver chain with tiny heart charms. Definitely not mine.

My stomach clenched as I reached further under the bed, dreading what else I might find. My hand closed around a scrap of fabric, and I pulled out a piece of lingerie – expensive, by the feel of the material, in a vibrant red that I would never wear.

I stared at the items in my hands, tangible proof of what I already knew. Liam had moved on. Was it Sophie? Or someone new? The thought of another woman in this bed, in the space that had once been mine, sent a wave of nausea through me.

Tears spilled down my cheeks before I could stop them. I hadn’t realized I still had the capacity to feel this hurt, this betrayed, after everything that had happened. I thought I’d cried all my tears for Liam Ashton.

As I stood up, clutching the damning evidence, I caught sight of myself in the full-length mirror across the room. The woman reflected back at me looked small, diminished, tears streaming down her face as she held the proof of her husband’s continued infidelity.

No. This wasn’t who I was anymore. This wasn’t who I wanted to be.

I straightened my shoulders, wiped the tears from my face with determined swipes, and looked at my reflection again. This time, I saw strength in my eyes, resolve in the set of my jaw. I was Diane Ashton, and I was done being a victim of Liam’s games.

Without thinking twice, I shoved the ankle bracelet and lingerie into my purse. These weren’t just proof of Liam’s infidelity anymore; they were ammunition. Joan would want to see them. They might even prove useful in our negotiations.

I grabbed my phone from under the bed, checked that I had the file for Robert securely tucked under my arm, and walked out of the bedroom without a backward glance. I moved through the house with purpose now, no longer haunted by its memories.

As I pulled the front door closed behind me, I felt a weight lift from my shoulders.

The drive to the office felt liberating. I called Robert back, letting him know I had the documents and was on my way in.

"Diane, you’re a lifesaver," Robert’s relieved voice came through the car speakers. "The client’s scheduled to arrive in about an hour. Will you make it in time?"

"I’ll be there in twenty minutes," I assured him, pressing my foot a little harder on the gas pedal. "Have the conference room ready."

I managed to arrive at the office with forty minutes to spare before the client meeting. As I walked through the corridors, several colleagues stopped to greet me with warmth. It felt good to be in an environment, where my value had always been clear and my contributions respected.

Robert met me at his office door, the relief evident on his face as he spotted the folder in my hand.

"You actually got them," he said, ushering me inside. "I was starting to think we’d have to somehow piece together the information from scratch."

"It wasn’t easy," I admitted, setting the folder on his desk. "But a court order works wonders."

Robert’s eyebrows shot up. Court order? Diane, is the issue with you and Liam getting worse?"

I waved a hand dismissively. "Not now, Robert. We have a client to prepare for. Let’s focus on that, shall we?"

He nodded, respecting my boundaries. "Of course. Let’s go through these documents quickly before they arrive."

For the next half hour, we pored over the marketing analysis report, refreshing my memory on the key insights and strategic recommendations I’d developed during my previous tenure as senior marketing executive. It felt good to engage my mind in something productive, something that had nothing to do with Liam or the divorce.

By the time the client arrived, I felt completely prepared and oddly calm. I stood beside Robert as he made the introductions.

"Mr. Davidson," Robert said smoothly, "I’d like you to meet Diane Ashton, our senior marketing executive. She’s the one who developed the comprehensive marketing analysis report that forms the foundation of our proposal today."

Mr. Davidson, a portly man with shrewd eyes, extended his hand. "Mrs. Ashton, a pleasure to see you again. I was disappointed when I heard you’d left the company, but thank God you’re back. Your market research insights are exactly what we need for this expansion."

I shook his hand firmly, my lips curving into the kind of professional smile that never reached my eyes. "Thank you, Mr. Davidson. Some personal matters required my attention, but I’m happy to be here today to see this through."

As we moved into the conference room, I felt a surge of confidence. This was my element – market analysis, consumer insights, strategic planning. So different from the murky waters of my personal life.

The moment we sat, the air shifted into something crisp and businesslike. A faint hum from the projector filled the room, the scent of strong coffee and expensive cologne lingering in the space.

I flipped open my notes.

And I took control.

As I presented, I watched Davidson’s expression shift—first skeptical, then intrigued. He leaned forward, his fingers drumming against the polished mahogany table as he listened.

The presentation went better than I could have hoped.

The marketing analysis I’d prepared was thorough and insightful, identifying key market opportunities and potential challenges for the Eastern European expansion. Mr. Davidson asked pointed questions about consumer behavior patterns and competitive positioning, which I answered with the expertise that had made me a respected senior marketing executive.

"The demographic analysis here is particularly impressive," Davidson noted, tapping the report. "Your segmentation strategy addresses exactly the concerns we had about market penetration."

By the end of the meeting, he was nodding appreciatively.

"Well done, Mrs. Ashton, Mr. Robert. This marketing analysis is exactly what I was hoping for. My team will review the full proposal, but based on these insights, I’m very optimistic about moving forward."

After handshakes and promises to be in touch, Robert escorted him out, leaving me alone in the conference room. This was a reminder of who I was beyond my marriage – competent, respected, valued.

Robert returned moments later, a broad smile on his face. "That," he declared, "was nothing short of magnificent. Davidson practically signed on the spot. We couldn’t have done this without you, Diane."

I allowed myself a modest smile. "Happy to help."

Robert hesitated, then leaned against the conference table. "You know, your can take as much time as you need and resume when you deem fit."

I appreciate that, Robert," I said carefully. "My situation is... complicated at the moment. I need to focus on getting through my divorce for now while I work from home, that is if you dont mind."

"I don’t." His voice was firm, understanding. "Diane, whenever you’re ready, you can always resume full time at the office, there’s always a place for you here."

A warm feeling of gratitude spread through me. At least some relationships in my life remained uncomplicated and genuine.

"Thank you," I said simply. "That means more than you know."

After promising to resuming the office fully once things settled down, I joined Robert and the rest of the team for an impromptu celebration in the break room.

Someone had produced a bottle of champagne, and plastic cups were being passed around. The mood was jubilant, with colleagues patting each other on the back and toasting the successful meeting.

In the midst of the celebration, my phone buzzed in my pocket. Joan’s name flashed on the screen. I stepped away from the group to take the call.

"Joan, what’s up?" I asked.

"Holbrook just called," Joan replied, her voice tight with excitement. "He wants to meet. Says Liam is ready to renegotiate."

My heart skipped a beat. "Renegotiate? What brought this on?"

"He didn’t say specifically, but I got the impression that Liam wasn’t happy about you accessing the mansion so soon. Perhaps he’s worried."

The ankle bracelet and lingerie in my purse suddenly felt heavier. "Maybe he should be worried," I said, a grim satisfaction creeping into my voice.

"What did you find?" Joan asked, instantly alert.

"I’ll tell you when I see you. When’s the meeting?"

"Holbrook suggested tomorrow at 2 PM, at his office. I told him I’d need to check with you first."

I considered the timing. "Tomorrow works. Let’s do it."

"Are you sure? This is all happening fast."

"I’m sure," I said firmly. "It’s time Liam realized I’m not going to roll over and let him dictate the terms of our divorce. Let’s show him what we’ve got."

"That’s my girl," Joan said, approval evident in her voice. "I’ll confirm with Holbrook. We would see when you get home tonight and we’ll strategize."

After ending the call, I rejoined the celebration, accepting a cup of champagne from a smiling colleague. As I sipped the bubbly drink, I felt a strange sense of clarity descending over me.

For weeks, I’d been reacting to Liam’s moves, always on the defensive. But today, with the successful meeting bolstering my confidence, I felt ready to take control of the narrative.

Tomorrow, I would face Liam and Holbrook not as a woman scorned, but as a worthy opponent. And this time, I wouldn’t be leaving empty-handed.

I raised my cup in a silent toast to my own resolution. The rules had changed, and I was finally ready to play.