Hell Hath no fury like a billionaire's Ex-Chapter 69: A Painful Path To Redemption

Sophie’s POV

The phone line went dead with a final click, but I still pressed it to my ear, as if I could somehow reach through the silence and take back everything I’d done. Diane’s words echoed in my head, each one a knife twisting deeper into my chest.

"I pray you die in hell, you backstabbing bitch!"

A sob escaped my lips as I finally lowered the phone. The truth of her words cut through me, sharper than any blade. I had brought this upon myself. Every bit of her hatred was deserved.

"Stupid, stupid, stupid!" I slapped my cheek hard, welcoming the sting. Again. And again. Physical pain was easier to bear than the crushing weight of what I’d done.

I slid down against the wall until I hit the floor, my body shaking with uncontrollable sobs. "You deserve everything she said. You deserve worse." My voice sounded hollow in my empty apartment. "You don’t deserve to live after what you’ve done to her."

How had I fallen so far? How had I let myself betray the one person who had always been there for me? My sister. My protector. The one who had picked me up every time I fell, who had defended me against bullies, who had helped me with homework and heartbreaks and everything in between.

And how had I repaid her? By sleeping with her husband. By continuing the affair even after we’d been caught. By choosing luxury and excitement over loyalty and love.

I dragged myself up from the floor and stumbled to the bookshelf where a framed photograph sat. It was Diane and me at the beach three summers ago, our arms wrapped around each other, faces pressed together as we smiled at the camera. Happy. Connected. Sisters.

My fingers trembled as I traced our faces. "Where did I go wrong, Diane?" I whispered, a fresh wave of tears blurring my vision. "How did I become this person? This terrible sister when you’ve always looked out for me?"

The Diane in the photograph smiled back, frozen in time, unaware of the betrayal that would come. I clutched the frame to my chest, rocking slightly. We’d been inseparable once. She’d been my rock, my confidante, my biggest cheerleader.

And I’d thrown it all away for what? Expensive dinners? Designer clothes? The thrill of forbidden desire? The memory of Liam’s touch now made me feel physically ill.

Every gift he’d given me sat around my apartment like evidence of my crime. The diamond earrings on my dresser. The Hermès handbag by the door. The expensive perfume on my vanity. All of it bought with money from the life he shared with Diane. My sister’s life that I’d helped destroy.

I reached for my phone again with sudden urgency, scrolling to find my mother’s number. She would know what to do. She always did.

The phone rang once, twice, three times before going to voicemail. I tried again immediately. Still nothing. On the third try, I left a desperate message: "Mom, I’m sorry for everything, please I need you."

When that brought no response, I sent a text message: "Mom, I’m sorry for everything, please I need you."

The screen remained stubbornly silent. I couldn’t blame her. After everything that had happened, why would she want to speak to the daughter who had torn their family apart?

I stood up, wiping my tears with the back of my hand. Wallowing in self-pity wouldn’t undo the damage I’d caused. Nothing would. But maybe, just maybe, there was still something I could do.

"I need to right my wrong," I said aloud, the words giving me a sliver of purpose. "I need to help my sister now that she needs me most."

As if on cue, my phone lit up with an incoming call. Liam. I steeled myself and accepted the call.

"Your sister is trying to ruin my life!" His voice came through, his tone venomous. "That interview she gave, the things she’s saying about me... I won’t back down, Sophie. She has no idea who she’s dealing with."

My stomach clenched at the threat in his words. This was the real Liam—not the charming, attentive man I thought I’d fallen for, but someone calculating and dangerous.

"Liam, please," I tried to sound soothing, playing along while my mind raced. "Let’s talk about this calmly. Getting angry won’t solve anything."

"Calm? You want me to be calm?" He laughed bitterly. "I’m about to lose everything I’ve worked for. My reputation, my company, my money—all because your sister couldn’t keep her mouth shut about our little affair."

Our little affair. The casual way he dismissed our betrayal made me sick. As if it were a small indiscretion rather than the destruction of a marriage, a family.

"I think I might have a way to make Diane back down," I found myself saying, the lie forming before I’d even consciously decided on it.

There was a pause. "You do?" His voice had shifted, interest replacing rage.

"Yes," I continued, forcing a confidence I didn’t feel. "But we need to discuss it in person. It’s... delicate."

"Fine," he agreed after a moment. "Come over to the house. I’m losing my mind here." frёeweɓηovel.coɱ

"I’ll be there soon," I promised.

"Good. Because I’m at my breaking point, Sophie." His voice dropped to something cold and terrifying. "If I didn’t want to avoid staining my hands with blood, I would have gotten rid of Diane a long time ago."

The words hit me like a physical blow. My hand tightened around the phone. "What did you just say?"

"You heard me." His tone was matter-of-fact, as if he were discussing the weather rather than contemplating murder. "Just get here."

The line went dead, and I stood frozen, my blood running cold. This wasn’t just about an affair or a messy divorce anymore. Liam had just casually admitted he’d considered killing my sister. My sister, who was carrying his children. Children he didn’t even know about until now.

Had I really heard that?

He would have killed her.

Killed her.

A choked sob rose from my throat. My knees gave out, and I sank onto the floor, the cold tiles pressing against my skin as the weight of reality crashed into me.

All this time, I’d been blind. I thought I was in love. I thought Diane had overreacted, that she was just bitter or dramatic. But she wasn’t. She saw him for what he truly was.

And I didn’t listen.

"God... Diane," I whispered. "I’m so sorry."

I had chosen him over her. I had defended him when she cried, when she begged me to see what he was. I remembered the look in her eyes the day she found out—broken, betrayed, hollow.

And I had made her feel like it was her fault.

I curled into myself, hugging my knees. "How could I have been so stupid?"

The memory of Diane’s voice over the phone came back to me.

"I pray you die in hell, you backstabbing bitch!"

She hated me. Truly, deeply. And she had every reason to.

But that didn’t matter anymore. I couldn’t undo what I’d done, but I could stop any more harm from coming to her. Even if it meant lying to Liam. Even if it meant pretending to still be on his side.

Even if it meant destroying what was left of the life I’d chosen.

I stood slowly, wiping my face. I looked at myself in the mirror. My eyes were red, my cheeks blotchy, but for once I didn’t look away.

"I’ll protect her," I whispered. "Even if she never forgives me. Even if she never speaks to me again."

My voice cracked, but I didn’t care.

"I’ll do it because I owe her my life. And because she deserves to win."

A sudden clarity washed over me. I knew what I had to do.

I moved to my closet, pulling out clothes for my meeting with Liam. Something alluring enough to maintain the charade, . My fingers lingered on a red dress Liam had bought me—a dress that cost more than my monthly rent.

I shoved it aside, reaching instead for a simple blouse and jeans I’d bought myself. No more gifts. No more pretending to be someone I wasn’t.

As I dressed, I thought about what lay ahead. Liam wouldn’t go down easily. He was powerful, connected, ruthless. And I was just... me. Sophie. The weak sister. The one who always took the easy path.

But not anymore.

I touched the photograph of Diane and me one more time. "I’ll make this right," I promised. "Or I’ll die trying."

For the first time in months, I felt the stirrings of something that had been buried beneath desire and greed and selfishness: hope. Not hope for forgiveness—I wasn’t naive enough to expect that—but hope that somehow, I could help undo some of the damage I’d caused.

It wouldn’t be enough. Nothing ever would be. But it was a start.

A start on the long, painful path to redemption