Hell Hath no fury like a billionaire's Ex-Chapter 55: Hidden Truth

Diane’s POV

Joan, sensing the subtle tension, deftly changed the subject. "Speaking of dinner, what are we thinking for tonight? I’m starving after that court fiasco."

My mother stood, clearly grateful for the shift in conversation. "I was planning to make herb-crusted salmon with roasted vegetables. I noticed you had some beautiful fish in your refrigerator."

"You’re cooking?" Joan asked, her face brightening. "I’ve been meaning to do something with that salmon before it goes bad."

"Consider it taken care of," my mother replied with a small smile. "It’s the least I can do for your hospitality."

As she headed back to the kitchen, Joan leaned closer to me. "Everything okay?" she whispered. "That got a little intense."

I shrugged, keeping my voice low. "I’m not sure. She’s been acting strange since the park. Distracted, almost anxious."

"She’s probably just processing everything," Joan suggested. "Finding out about the twins, seeing them on the ultrasound...it’s a lot to take in.

I nodded, but couldn’t shake the feeling that there was more to it than that. Something about the way she’d asked about Andrew, her insistence on meeting him... It felt significant somehow, though I couldn’t understand why, or perhaps, she’s just overly eager to meet the person who has been helping her daughter.

I pulled out my phone, checking to see if Andrew had tried to call back. No missed calls or messages. Whatever he’d wanted to discuss would have to wait.

"I think I’ll go lie down for a bit," I told Joan, suddenly feeling the fatigue that often hit me in the afternoons these days. "The appointment and picnic took more out of me than I realized."

"Of course," Joan said, squeezing my hand. "Rest up. I’ll wake you when dinner’s ready."

I made my way upstairs to the guest room that had become my sanctuary over the past months. The bedding was fresh and crisp, the curtains drawn to create a soothing dimness. I kicked off my shoes and stretched out on the bed, my hand automatically finding my belly.

"Hey there, little ones," I whispered, feeling foolish but unable to resist. "It’s your mom. I know who you are now—my little boy and girl. We’re going to be quite the team, the three of us."

A flutter of movement answered me, as if they were responding to my voice. I smiled, my eyes growing heavy with sleep. Just before drifting off, my thoughts turned to Andrew’s cryptic call. What had he been trying to tell me?

I picked up my phone, deciding to at least send him a text about dinner since I couldn’t reach him by phone.

"Please can I host you for dinner so I can thank you properly for all you’ve been doing for me. Would nextweek Saturday work for you? Please Let me know if you’re free." ƒree𝑤ebnσvel.com

I sent the message, then placed the phone on the nightstand. I’d check for his response when I woke up.

-‐‐

I awoke to the gentle touch of my mother’s hand on my shoulder, the room now dark except for the soft glow of the bedside lamp she must have switched on.

"Diane," she said softly. "Dinner’s ready."

I blinked, disoriented from my deep sleep. "What time is it?"

"Almost seven," she replied. "You’ve been asleep for hours. I didn’t want to wake you, but I thought you should eat something."

I sat up slowly, my body heavy with the lingering weight of sleep. "I didn’t mean to nap so long. Is Joan back from work?"

My mother’s forehead creased slightly. "Joan’s been home all afternoon, remember? Her court case was adjourned early."

"Right," I murmured, the memory filtering back through the fog of sleep. "Sorry, I’m still half-asleep."

She smiled indulgently. "Take your time. Dinner will keep, as she left."

I reached for my phone on the nightstand, checking for messages. There was a reply from Andrew: "Next Week Saturday works for me. Looking forward to the dinner. I’ll tell you what I wanted to discuss then, I guess it could wait. Take care until I see you."

I stared at the message for a few seconds longer than necessary, rereading the line about wanting to discuss something. My mind played scenarios like a highlight reel, trying to guess what was so urgent, then suddenly not. Andrew wasn’t one for vague messages. Was it something about Liam? Something legal? Or worse—something personal?

I took a moment to gather myself, splashing cold water on my face in the adjoining bathroom and running a brush through my hair. The heaviness of sleep lingered, making my movements slow and deliberate as I made my way downstairs.

The dining room was warm with golden light, the table set with mom’s good dishes. The aroma of herb-crusted salmon and roasted vegetables filled the air, a sophisticated departure from our usual takeout dinners.

"There she is!" Joan called as I entered, breaking the spell of sleep that still clung to me. "We were about to send a search party."

"Sorry," I said, taking my seat at the table. "I didn’t realize how tired I was."

"Growing two humans is exhausting work," Joan said with a sympathetic smile. "Your body knows what it needs."

My mother set a beautifully plated dinner before me, the salmon perfectly seared with a golden herb crust, surrounded by colorful roasted vegetables. "Eat," she instructed simply. "You need to keep up your strength."

We fell into easy conversation as we ate, Joan recounting the absurdity of her court appearance being canceled at the last minute, my mother offering amusing anecdotes about the other expectant mothers she’d observed in Dr. Chen’s waiting room.

The salmon was delicious—flaky and moist with a perfect crispy herb crust.

"This is incredible," Joan moaned around a mouthful. "Diane, you never told me your mother was a culinary genius."

My mother waved off the compliment with a modest shake of her head. "It’s a simple preparation. The secret is not to overcook the fish."

"Still," Joan persisted, "you could open a restaurant with food this good."

My mother smiled, clearly pleased despite her protests. "I’ve always enjoyed cooking for people I care about. It’s my way of showing love, I suppose."

The sentiment hung in the air, unexpectedly poignant. My mother had always expressed her affection through acts of service rather than words—cooking favorite meals, mending torn clothes, making sure I had everything I needed for school trips and activities. It was a language of love I’d almost forgotten in the years of distance between us.

I glanced at her now, seeing more than just her skill in the kitchen. Her eyes had softened over the last few weeks, her edges sanded down by shared vulnerability. There was warmth in her gestures, yes, but also something hesitant—like she was relearning how to be close to me after everything we’d both endured.

"Andrew got back to me about dinner," I said, knowing she was curious. "He’ll be here next week Saturday, and he said he’ll tell me then what he wanted to discuss on the phone."

She nodded, her gaze dropping to her plate. "I was thinking I could make my roast chicken with lemon and herbs. It’s always been a crowd-pleaser."

"Mom," I said gently, "don’t go to too much trouble. It’s just a thank-you dinner."

"Of course," she agreed, but I could tell from the determined set of her jaw that she’d already made plans in her mind. "I just want it to be nice."

Joan watched this exchange with barely concealed curiosity, her eyes moving between us like a spectator at a tennis match. "I’d be happy to have Andrew over," she offered. "It would be nice to thank him properly for everything he’s done."

"See?" My mother gestured toward Joan. "We’re all in agreement."

I sighed, recognizing defeat when I saw it. "Saturday it is, then."

My mother smiled, satisfied. "That’s all I ask."

The conversation drifted to other topics as we finished our meal—nursery plans, baby names, the security upgrades Joan had arranged for the house. Throughout it all, I couldn’t shake the nagging feeling that there was something my mother wasn’t telling me.

As Joan and I cleared the dishes while my mother prepared coffee, I glanced at my phone again, wondering what Andrew had wanted to tell me that was important enough to try repeatedly to reach me, yet could apparently wait until next week Saturday.

A warning about Liam? News about the divorce proceedings? Whatever it was, I’d have to wait a few more days to find out.

The thought of what this might be kept making me get worried, hoping nothing was wrong.

I stepped onto the back porch for a moment of quiet, staring out at the darkened beach. The thought of Liam still made my skin crawl, but I refused to let fear overtake me again. I had too much to look forward to now—my babies, my work, a future that was beginning to take shape despite Liam’s best efforts to destroy it.

Taking a deep breath of the night air, I turned and went back inside to join my mother and Joan. Next week Saturday promised to be an interesting day.