Hell Hath no fury like a billionaire's Ex-Chapter 50: Sweet Revenge

Diane’s POV

The morning sun streamed through the gauzy curtains of Joan’s guest room, bathing everything in a warm, golden light. I unrolled my yoga mat by the window, savoring the sensation of the light breeze against my skin. This would be my first proper yoga session in weeks, and my body craved the familiar routine.

As I moved through the first few poses, I found myself smiling. The twins had been unusually quiet this morning, as if they too were enjoying the peaceful moment. My hand instinctively moved to my rounded belly, feeling the firm curve that housed my children. My children. The thought still filled me with wonder and a fierce protectiveness that sometimes took my breath away.

I was halfway through a modified sun salutation when I noticed my mother watching from the doorway, a fond smile on her face.

"Mind if I join you?" she asked, already barefoot and dressed in comfortable clothes.

"Not at all," I replied, surprised but pleased. My mother had never shown much interest in yoga while growing up. "Though I’m taking it pretty easy these days."

She chuckled, unrolling a borrowed mat beside mine. "That’s fine by me. I’m not exactly flexible at my age."

"Here," I said, noticing she hadn’t brought water. "You’ll need this."

She waved me off. "I brought some for you, actually. You didn’t have a bottle with you."

My mother handed me a water bottle, and I felt a surge of gratitude for her thoughtfulness. It was these small gestures that reminded me how much I’d missed her presence in my life.

We moved through the poses together, my mother following my lead with more grace than I’d expected. The shared activity created a comfortable silence between us, a rare moment of perfect harmony.

"How are you feeling today?" she asked as we finished our final stretches. "Any more of those Braxton Hicks contractions?"

I shook my head, taking a long sip of water. "Not since yesterday afternoon. I think these two are being kind to their mama for once."

"They’re saving their energy," my mother said wisely. "You’ll need all the rest you can get now, because once they arrive..." She trailed off, but her knowing smile said everything.

We chatted easily about the babies, about the nursery I was planning to set up once I had my own place, about the support group for expectant mothers that Joan had found for me. It felt surreal, having these normal, maternal conversations with my mother after everything that had happened.

"I should go shower," I said finally, feeling the pleasant stretch in my muscles.

My mother nodded, rolling up her borrowed mat. "I’ll make us some breakfast. Something light?"

"That would be wonderful," I replied, touched by her offer.

In the shower, I let the hot water cascade over my shoulders, easing the lingering tension. The yoga had felt good—a reminder that my body was still mine, still strong despite everything it had been through. As I dried off, I caught my reflection in the steamy mirror. My body had changed so much over the past weeks...belly expanding. But there was something else too—a confidence in my stance, a resolute look in my eyes that hadn’t been there before.

I smiled at my reflection. "We’re doing just fine," I whispered, one hand cradling my belly.

After dressing in comfortable leggings and an oversized shirt, I headed down stairs for breakfast.

Quickly had breakfast, then moved to the couch and had a little conversation with my mum.

Checked my phone it was past 12 noon. I excused myself to the room so I could take a nap. I stretched out on the bed, suddenly overcome with fatigue. Just a quick nap, I told myself, setting my phone alarm for 1 hour.

I had barely slept deep when my phone rang, startling me awake. Andrew’s name flashed on the screen, sending a flutter of anticipation through me.

"Andrew," I answered, my voice still husky with almost-sleep. "What’s happening?"

"It’s done," he said without preamble, his voice thrumming with satisfaction. "Operation ’Wild Goose Chase’ was a complete success."

I sat up straighter, suddenly wide awake. "He went to Boston? For the fake meeting?"

"Oh, he went all right," Andrew replied, and I could hear the smile in his voice. "First-class ticket, luxury hotel suite—the whole nine yards. And then early this morning, he showed up at the Mercury Suite at the Evergreen Hotel, right on time, dressed in his best Armani suit..." Andrew paused dramatically. "Only to find the door locked and no James Wilson to be found."

I bit my lip, imagining Liam’s face as he realized he’d been duped. "Did he figure it out right away?"

"Not immediately," Andrew said, sounding pleased with himself. "He tried calling the fake number again, but obviously, it went straight to voicemail. Then he went to the front desk and made quite a scene, insisting there must be some mistake. The receptionist—who I’d briefed thoroughly beforehand—told him there was no record of any James Wilson or any booking for the Mercury Suite."

"And then?" I prompted, hardly able to contain my anticipation.

"Then he called the real James Dave," Andrew continued. "Who, of course, had no idea what Liam was talking about and was less than pleased to be bothered. That’s when Liam finally put two and two together."

A laugh escaped me, sharp and bright. "He must have been furious."

"Incandescent with rage, according to my source at the hotel," Andrew confirmed. "But that’s not even the best part. When he arrived back at JFK, my actors were waiting."

My heart skipped a beat. "The airport scene? It worked?"

"Better than we could have hoped," Andrew said triumphantly. "Check your messages—I’m sending you some photos and videos now."

My phone pinged with incoming messages, and I quickly put Andrew on speaker to look at them. The first was a slightly blurry photo of Liam exiting the terminal, his face set in a thunderous scowl. The next few showed him surrounded by people with phones—Andrew’s hired actors—pointing at him, clearly heckling him.

Then came the video. The quality wasn’t perfect, but it clearly showed Liam shoving a man who had blocked his path, causing the man’s phone to clatter to the ground. The crowd’s reaction was immediate—jeers, more pointing, someone shouting, "Not only a cheater but an entitled asshole too!"

I played it again, watching Liam’s face contort with rage and embarrassment as he pushed through the crowd. It was petty, perhaps, but seeing him squirm gave me a satisfaction I couldn’t deny.

"This is perfect," I breathed. "Absolutely perfect."

"Thought you’d approve," Andrew replied, sounding equally satisfied.

"By the way, send me your account information. I want to wire some amount to you, it should help with the medical bills and whatever else you need."

Immediately I sent it and just within minutes I received the money in my account.

A wave of gratitude washed over me. "Andrew, I don’t know how to thank you for all of this. What have I done to deserve such kindness from you?"

There was a pause, and when Andrew spoke again, his voice was softer, more serious. "You didn’t deserve what Liam did to you, Diane. Not any of it. And I know what it’s like to have Liam Ashton tear your life apart. If I can help ensure he doesn’t get away with it this time, that’s thanks enough."

My throat tightened with emotion. "Still, I’m grateful. More than I can say."

"I know," Andrew said simply. "I should go—I have a meeting in ten minutes. But I’ll check in tomorrow, okay? Take care of yourself and those babies."

"I will," I promised. "Goodbye, Andrew."

After hanging up, I scrolled through the photos and videos again, a smile playing at my lips. Liam’s humiliation was tangible, his outrage palpable. For months, he had held all the power, making me feel small and helpless. Now, finally, the tables had turned.

"This is just the beginning," I whispered to myself, running a finger over an image of Liam’s furious face.

As if on cue, my phone began to ring again. Liam’s name flashed on the screen, sending a jolt of dark satisfaction through me. I let it ring, savoring the moment, imagining him seething on the other end. The call ended, then immediately started again. Again, I let it ring out, a small, vindictive thrill coursing through me at making him wait.

On the third attempt, I finally answered, adopting a casual tone as if I hadn’t noticed the previous calls.

"Hello?"

"You think you’re clever, don’t you?" Liam’s voice came through, cold and brittle with barely suppressed rage.

I paused deliberately, then let out a soft, smug chuckle. "Liam. What a surprise. Back from your important business trip already?"

"Cut the crap, Diane," he snarled. "You set me up. The fake meeting, the impostor, the airport stunt—you did all of it."

"Now, why would I do such a thing?" I mused, my voice dripping with mock innocence.

"Don’t play dumb." His voice had taken on that dangerous edge I knew so well, the one that used to make me shrink away. Now, it only fueled my resolve. "You wanted to humiliate me. You confidently came to my company, destroyed my car, and as if that wasn’t enough, you made me waste my time and money chasing a deal that never existed. You really pulled out all the stops, didn’t you?"

I sighed dramatically, enjoying his frustration. "Oh, Liam. Always so paranoid. Maybe people just finally realized who you really are."

I could hear the satisfaction in my own voice, and part of me was surprised by how much I was enjoying this. The old Diane would have been horrified at taking pleasure in someone else’s pain, even Liam’s. But the old Diane had died the day she found her husband in bed with her sister.

"You won’t get away with this," Liam growled, his voice rising. "You think this is funny? You think this is just another one of your little games? You have no idea what you’ve started."

"Is that a threat?" I asked, feigning concern.

"No," he said, his voice dropping to a low, lethal tone that once would have terrified me. "It’s a promise. Brace yourself, Diane. Because whatever you thought you were doing? You just made the biggest mistake of your life."

I was silent for a moment, letting his threat hang in the air. Then, I laughed. It was a genuine laugh, born of a newfound confidence and the knowledge that I no longer feared this man.

"Oh, Liam," I purred. "You always were so dramatic. I guess we’ll see who comes out on top, won’t we?"

Before he could respond, I ended the call, tossing my phone onto the bed with a triumphant smile. I could almost see him on the other end, his face purple with rage, perhaps smashing something in frustration. The thought made me chuckle.

A soft knock at the door interrupted my thoughts. "Diane?" Joan’s voice called. "Are you decent? I’ve got something to show you."

"Come in," I called, straightening up against the headboard.

Joan entered, her expression curious. "I heard laughter. Good news?"

I nodded, gesturing to my phone. "Andrew just called. The plan worked perfectly. Liam went all the way to Boston for a meeting that didn’t exist, then got mobbed by actors at the airport when he returned. And he just called me, absolutely livid."

Joan’s eyes widened. "He called you? What did he say?"

"Oh, the usual Liam threats," I said, waving a dismissive hand. "That I’ve made the biggest mistake of my life, that I have no idea what I’ve started. He’s furious that I managed to get one over on him."

Joan sat on the edge of the bed, her expression a mixture of amusement and concern. "And you’re... okay with that? Him being so angry?"

I considered this for a moment. "You know what? I am. For the first time in months, I feel like I have some control back. Like the scales are finally balancing."

Joan studied my face, then nodded slowly. "I’m glad, Diane. Just... be careful, okay? Liam when he’s backed into a corner—"

"Is dangerous," I finished for her. "I know. But so am I, now." I rested my hand on my belly. "I have too much at stake to be careless."

Joan’s expression softened. "Speaking of which, I have something for you." She reached into her bag and pulled out a manila envelope. "The prenatal vitamins your doctor recommended. I picked them up on my way home yesterday but forgot to give them to you."

"Thank you," I said, taking the envelope.