Hell Hath no fury like a billionaire's Ex-Chapter 37: Unexpected Ally

Diane’s POV

A steady beeping filled the silence. My eyelids fluttered open to a blindingly white ceiling. For a moment, my mind felt like static—blank, disoriented. Then, like a flood, everything came rushing back.

The confrontation with Liam. The accident.

A dull ache pulsed through my body as I shifted slightly. My throat was dry, my limbs heavy. I reached for my phone on the bedside table, wincing at the effort. I hadn’t held it since the accident, and dread settled in my stomach as I unlocked the screen.

Missed calls. Messages.

I played my voicemail. The first message from Robert. A quick update from work, concern in his voice. The next one made my pulse spike.

Liam.

"Diane, I know you were in the house today. Whatever you think you found, whatever you’re planning—it won’t work."

I leaned back against the pillows, a slow smirk creeping onto my lips. He must have checked the CCTV footage. Too bad I was smarter than him—I had backed the cameras, ensuring they never caught my angle as I slipped those items into my bag.

Good. Let him sweat.

A gentle knock at the door pulled me from my thoughts.

"Come in," I called, my voice raspier than I expected.

The door opened slowly, and to my surprise, Andrew stepped in. He carried a modest bouquet of white lilies and a cautious smile.

"I hope I’m not intruding," he said, lingering by the doorway. "I wanted to see how you were doing."

I adjusted the bed to a sitting position, suddenly conscious of my disheveled appearance. "Not at all. Please, come in."

Andrew approached, placing the lilies on the bedside table. "How are you feeling today?"

"Like I’ve been hit by a car," I replied, attempting humor despite the dull ache radiating through my body. His face fell immediately, and I regretted my poor choice of words. "I’m sorry, that was a terrible joke. I’m doing much better, thank you."

"No need to apologize," he said, settling into the chair beside my bed. "I deserve that and worse."

With the sun shining through the window, I could see him more clearly than I had yesterday.

Silver hair well styled, expensive suit tailored to perfection, a face that spoke of both authority and experience. He carried himself with the unmistakable air of someone accustomed to power, yet there was something unexpectedly gentle in his gray eyes.

"The doctors said I was lucky," I offered. "No internal bleeding, just a concussion and some bruising."

"And..." he hesitated, glancing toward my stomach, "your babies are okay?"

I instinctively placed a hand over my stomach, still flat beneath the hospital gown. "Yes, they’re fine. Thank God."

A silence fell between us, not entirely uncomfortable but weighted with unspoken questions. I studied his face, trying to place why he seemed vaguely familiar.

"I don’t mean to pry," Andrew finally said, "but I couldn’t help overhearing some of what your friend Joan said yesterday. You were coming from a divorce settlement?"

I sighed, suddenly tired. "Not a settlement exactly. More like another failed negotiation."

"I see." He leaned forward slightly. "Is that why you rushed out into the street?"

"I wasn’t thinking clearly," I admitted. "My soon-to-be ex-husband has a talent for pushing me to my limits."

Andrew’s expression darkened barely noticeable. "These situations can be difficult. Especially when there are children involved."

I felt a flare of defensiveness. "The pregnancy is recent. My husband doesn’t know, and I’d prefer to keep it that way for now."

"Of course," he said quickly. "I didn’t mean to imply... I understand the need for discretion in delicate matters."

Something in his tone made me look at him more carefully. There was a knowing quality to his words, as if he spoke from experience rather than mere sympathy.

"Mr. Andrew—"

"Just Andrew, please."

"Andrew," I amended. "Why are you really here? You’ve paid my medical bills, brought flowers... It seems like a lot for someone who accidentally hit a stranger with their car."

He smiled, a slight tightening of his lips that didn’t reach his eyes.

"Perhaps I feel more responsible than most would. Or perhaps I recognize someone in need of an ally." He paused, watching me carefully.

"You mentioned a divorce. Are you being represented fairly?"

I laughed bitterly. "My friend Joan is my lawyer. She’s doing her best, but my husband has the full weight of his company resources behind him. He’s determined to leave me with as little as possible."

"Even though you’re carrying his children?"

"Especially if he knew that," I said grimly. "He’d use it as leverage, claiming I was trying to trap him or extort him. The truth is, he betrayed me in the worst possible way, and now he’s trying to erase me from his life as if I never existed."

Andrew’s hand tightened on the armrest of his chair. "That sounds... unacceptable."

"Welcome to my life," I muttered. "Sorry, I shouldn’t be dumping all of this on you. You’re a stranger who’s already done more than enough."

"Sometimes it’s easier to confide in a stranger," he said quietly. "No history, no judgment. Just a willing ear."

I found myself nodding. There was something about Andrew that invited confidence, a steadiness that had been woefully absent from my life lately.

"My husband and I built his company together," I found myself saying. "I put my own career on hold to support him, entertained clients, developed strategies... and now he’s offering me 15% of what should rightfully be half mine. And that’s after he tried to close our joint accounts."

Andrew’s eyebrows rose. "You contributed directly to the business?"

"In every way but the official title," I confirmed. "I was always the one behind the scenes, making things happen while he took the credit."

"And what business is this, if you don’t mind my asking?"

"Synergy Sphere," I replied. "Real estate development, primarily, though we’ve diversified in recent years."

The change in Andrew’s demeanor was subtle but unmistakable. A slight stiffening of his posture, a tightening around his eyes.

"Ashton," he repeated slowly. "Your husband is Liam Ashton?"

I nodded, puzzled by his reaction. "Do you know him?"

Andrew’s laugh held no humor. "We’ve had... dealings in the past." He seemed to choose his words carefully. "The business world is smaller than people think."

"Not favorable dealings, I take it?"

"Let’s just say your assessment of his character aligns with my experience."

I studied him with renewed interest. "Were you one of his victims too?"

Andrew’s gaze sharpened. "That’s an interesting choice of words."

"But accurate," I pressed. "Liam has a pattern. He charms, he uses, he discards. I’ve seen it in business and in our marriage. He drew me in with promises of partnership, of building something together. Then once he had what he needed from me, I became disposable."

Something flickered across Andrew’s face—recognition, perhaps, or confirmation of a suspicion. "When did you meet him?"

"Eight years ago," I said. "Why?"

He waved away the question. "Just placing the timeline. That would have been after our... interaction."

"What happened between you?" I asked, curiosity overriding politeness.

Andrew seemed to debate with himself before answering. "We entered into a business arrangement that required significant amount to be invested from both parties. I put up the majority of the capital by puttingall of my life savings, while he contributed little. But when it came time to formalize our agreement..." He trailed off, his expression hardening.

"He pulled out," I finished for him. "Left you holding the bag."

Andrew’s surprise was evident. "You know about this?"

I shook my head. "I don’t know the specifics, but I know his methods. Let me guess—he found a loophole? Some technicality that let him walk away with your investment while claiming no wrongdoing?"

"Something like that," Andrew admitted. "The details aren’t important now. What matters is that I understand exactly what kind of man you’re dealing with."

I leaned back against my pillows, suddenly exhausted. "Then you understand why yesterday’s meeting went so badly. Liam doesn’t negotiate in good faith. He manipulates, threatens, and when that doesn’t work, he becomes vicious. Yesterday, when I demanded my fair share..."

"He showed his true colors," Andrew finished.

"Exactly."

Andrew was quiet for a moment, his gaze distant as if working through some internal calculation. "Mrs. Ashton—"

"Diane, please."

"Diane," he corrected himself, "I think perhaps our meeting wasn’t entirely by accident."

I raised an eyebrow. "You’re not suggesting this was fate?"

He smiled, the first genuine smile I’d seen from him. "Let’s call it a fortunate alignment of interests. I have substantial resources and a long memory for those who’ve wronged me. You need someone with experience dealing with Liam Ashton’s particular brand of business ethics."

"What exactly are you proposing?" I asked, caution creeping into my voice.

"An alliance," he said simply. "I have connections, resources, and knowledge that could be valuable to your divorce proceedings. I’m offering to help you get what you rightfully deserve."

I narrowed my eyes. "Why would you do that? What’s in it for you?"

Andrew’s smile turned cold. "Let’s just say I find a certain satisfaction in seeing justice served. Especially when it involves Liam Ashton."

"Revenge, you mean," I said flatly.

"Justice," he corrected. "A fair outcome for you and your children. If that happens to cause Liam some discomfort in the process, I won’t lose sleep over it."

I considered his offer, weighing my instinctive caution against my desperate need for any advantage in my fight against Liam. "I already have a lawyer..."

"And I’m not suggesting you replace her," Andrew said quickly. "But I can provide information, resources, perhaps even financial support during what will likely be a protracted legal battle."

"That’s... generous," I said slowly. "Too generous for a stranger, accident or not."

Andrew leaned forward, his expression earnest. "Consider it an investment in a righteous cause. I’ve spent years watching Liam Ashton prosper through underhanded tactics. I would find great satisfaction in seeing him finally face consequences."

Something in his intensity gave me pause. "You really hate him, don’t you?"

"Hate is a strong word," Andrew replied carefully. "Let’s say I have a vested interest in seeing his true character exposed."

I was saved from responding by the arrival of Dr. Chen, who entered with a clipboard and a smile.

"Good morning, Diane," she said warmly before nodding to Andrew. "I see you have company. How are you feeling today?"

"Much better," I assured her. "When can I go home?"

Dr. Chen checked my vitals, shining a light in my eyes to test my pupil response. "Your concussion is mild, and all your readings are good. I think we can discharge you today, provided you have someone to keep an eye on you for the next 24-48 hours."

"I do," I said, thinking of Joan. "My friend will, i stay at hers."

"Excellent." Dr. Chen made a note on my chart. "I’ll have the nurse prepare your discharge papers. You’ll need to take it easy for at least a week—no driving, no strenuous activity, plenty of rest. And I want to see you back here next week for a follow-up, both for your injuries and a proper prenatal check."

Andrew stood as Dr. Chen prepared to leave. "I should go and let you rest. But please, consider my offer." He handed me another business card, this one with a handwritten number on the back. "That’s my private line. Call me anytime if you need anything or if you’ve made a decision."

I took the card, still uncertain but increasingly intrigued by this unexpected potential ally. "Thank you, Andrew. For everything."

He inclined his head in acknowledgment. "Take care of yourself, Diane. And those little ones."

After Andrew and Dr. Chen left, I stared at the business card in my hand.

And now, with Andrew offering to help me take on Liam. It seemed too good to be true, which made me wary. But I couldn’t deny the appeal of having someone with resources in my corner.

The nurse arrived with my discharge papers, and I focused on the immediate task of going home. Joan would have opinions about Andrew and his offer—strong ones, no doubt. But for now, I tucked his card into my purse, alongside the evidence I’d found at the mansion.

By early afternoon, I was settled in Joan’s guest room, propped up with pillows and strict instructions to rest. Joan fussed around me, arranging water, medication, and snacks within easy reach.

"Are you sure you’re comfortable?" she asked for the third time. "I can get more pillows."

"I’m fine, Joan, truly," I assured her. "You’ve done more than enough."

She perched on the edge of the bed, her expression serious. "So, are you going to tell me about that man who was visiting you this morning? The one who hit you with his car?"

I sighed, knowing this conversation was inevitable. "His name is Andrew. He’s a businessman who apparently has history with Liam."

Joan’s eyebrows shot up. "What kind of history?"

"The kind where Liam screwed him over in a business deal," I explained. "And now he’s offering to help me with the divorce."

"Help how, exactly?" Joan’s lawyer instincts were clearly on high alert.

"Resources, information, possibly financial support," I said. "He seems to have a personal interest in seeing Liam face consequences."

Joan frowned. "I don’t like it. People with agendas rarely make good allies. And his sudden appearance seems too convenient."

"I thought the same thing," I admitted. "But we’re fighting an uphill battle against Liam and his resources. Can we really afford to turn down help?"

"We can if that help comes with strings attached," Joan countered. "Diane, you’re vulnerable right now. Pregnant, injured, emotionally raw from that confrontation with Liam. This is exactly when predators swoop in."

I bristled slightly at her characterization. "Andrew doesn’t seem like a predator. If anything, he was genuinely concerned."

"A man you’ve known for less than 24 hours," Joan reminded me. "A man who literally hit you with his car."

"It was an accident," I insisted. "And he paid my medical bills without being asked."

Joan’s expression softened. "I know you want to believe in the good intentions of others. It’s one of the things I love about you. But after everything with Liam and Sophie, I’m asking you to be cautious. At least let me look into this Andrew before you accept any help from him."

I nodded, acknowledging the wisdom in her caution. "That’s fair. Maybe you’ll find something that helps us decide whether to trust him."

Joan squeezed my hand. "That’s all I’m asking. Now, try to get some rest. Doctor’s orders."

As Joan left the room, I sank deeper into the pillows, my hand instinctively resting on my stomach. So much had happened in such a short time—the confrontation with Liam, the accident, Andrew’s unexpected offer. My mind whirled with possibilities and dangers, hopes and fears.

I pulled out Andrew’s business card again, running my finger over the embossed lettering. There was still something familiar about him that I couldn’t quite place. Something beyond his connection to Liam, something that tugged at the edges of my memory.

My phone chimed with a text notification. Unknown number.

"Just checking that you got home safely. If you need anything at all, day or night, don’t hesitate to call. - Andrew"

I smiled despite myself. Whatever his motives, whatever his agenda, Andrew seemed genuinely concerned for my welfare. In my current situation, that alone was worth something.

I texted back a simple reply: "Home safe with my friend. Thank you again for everything."

Setting my phone aside, I closed my eyes, allowing exhaustion to pull me toward sleep.