Hell Hath no fury like a billionaire's Ex-Chapter 82: Goodbye Old Life

Sophie’s POV

As the minutes ticked by, a strange calm settled over me while I waited for the knock on my door. Whatever happened next—with my father, with Diane, with Liam—I would face it. I’d spent too long running from difficult truths and situations, too long taking the easy path.

The sound of footsteps in the hallway outside my apartment sent my heart racing. This was it. The moment that would change everything.

I stood, smoothing my hands down the front of my shirt, and moved toward the door. Behind it stood a man I’d never met but whose blood ran in my veins. A stranger who was also the most familiar person in the world.

I took a deep breath and reached for the doorknob, terrified and hopeful all at once. I was about to see the man who was my father, and I had no idea if I would even recognize him—or if I would want him to be my father when this was over.

The door swung open, and there he was.

Our eyes met, and something inside me shifted. Recognition bloomed in my mind, followed quickly by disbelief. It was the man from the parking lot—the one who had offered to help clean my vandalized car. My breath caught in my throat.

"Sophie," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. The same deep voice I’d heard on the phone, but now accompanied by eyes that mirrored my own.

I stood frozen, unable to speak, unable to move. This man—my father—had seen me at my lowest moment, witnessed my public humiliation, and offered kindness without judgment. Before I even knew who he was.

"It was you," I finally managed. "At the parking lot. With the cleaning supplies."

He nodded, tears welling in his eyes."

Something broke loose inside me then—a dam of emotions I’d been holding back for days, for years, for a lifetime. I rushed forward into his arms, a sob tearing from my throat. His arms closed around me, strong and secure, and for the first time in longer than I could remember, I felt safe.

"I’m sorry," he murmured into my hair, his voice breaking. "I’m so sorry, Sophie. For everything."

We stood like that in the doorway, father and daughter reunited after nearly three decades, both of us weeping for all the lost years between us. When we finally pulled apart, his face was wet with tears, but he was smiling—a smile that somehow looked both foreign and achingly familiar.

"Please," I said, hastily wiping my eyes and gesturing to my cluttered apartment. "Come in."

I hurriedly cleared some clothes from the couch, embarrassed by the mess. My apartment had never felt smaller or shabbier than in this moment, with this stranger-father standing in it.

"I’m sorry about—" I gestured vaguely at the disorder.

"Don’t apologize," he said gently. "Not to me. I’ve forfeited any right to judge how you live your life."

He sat on the couch and patted the space beside him. I hesitated only briefly before joining him, my body angled toward his, studying his features hungrily. I could see traces of Diane in the shape of his jawline, of myself in the curve of his mouth.

He took my hands in his, and I was surprised by how warm they were.

"Sophie, I know I don’t deserve your forgiveness. What I did—abandoning you and Diane, leaving your mother to struggle alone—it’s unforgivable." His voice was steady but laced with regret. "But I’m asking for a chance. A chance to be your father now, to protect you, to give you the life you deserve."

The life I deserve. My mind flashed to Liam’s words earlier—the same phrase, but with such different meaning. A hollow promise from a man who saw me as a tool, not a person.

"I don’t know what to say," I admitted. "This is all so much to take in."

"I understand," he said, squeezing my hands. "But I want you to know something, Sophie. I never stopped loving you or Diane. Not for a single day. Even at my worst, even when I was too cowardly to face what I’d done, I carried you both in my heart."

Fresh tears welled in my eyes. "Why did you stay away for so long?"

Pain crossed his face. "After I left, I spiraled. The gambling got worse. I lived on the streets for a while, got mixed up with loan sharks, dangerous people. By the time I got clean, years had passed. Your mother had moved, changed your last names. I tried to find you, but..."

He trailed off, his expression haunted.

"But when you did find us, you didn’t come forward," I finished for him. "You watched from afar."

He nodded, shame evident in his posture. "I was afraid. Afraid you’d reject me, that I’d cause you and Diane more pain than I already had. And then I saw how successful you both had become—Diane with her company, you with your career. I thought perhaps it was better to leave you in peace."

"Until Liam happened," I said quietly.

"Until Liam happened," he agreed, his expression darkening. "

The tenderness in his voice, the fierceness of his declaration, broke something open inside me. All my life, I’d longed for this—a father who would fight for me, protect me. Even as I’d betrayed Diane, part of me had been that little girl, seeking safety in the arms of a powerful man.

"I need to tell you something," I said, my voice barely above a whisper. "About Liam, about what I’ve done."

He shook his head. "Your mother told me everything. And none of it matters now. The only thing that matters is keeping you and Diane safe."

"But I betrayed her," I insisted, needing him to understand the depth of my sin. "My own sister. I slept with her husband, I helped him take advantage of her."

"You were manipulated by a predator," my father interrupted, his voice firm but gentle. "A man who targeted your vulnerabilities, who used your loneliness and insecurities against you. That doesn’t excuse what happened, but it explains it."

He reached up to brush a tear from my cheek, the gesture so paternal it made my heart ache.

"People make mistakes, Sophie. Terrible ones, sometimes. I know that better than most." His eyes held mine, steady and sure. "But what defines us isn’t our worst moments—it’s what we do to make amends."

I let out a shuddering breath. "I don’t know if Diane will ever forgive me. I don’t know if I can forgive myself."

"That’s not for either of us to decide right now," he said. "Right now, we need to focus on keeping you both safe. Which is why I’m here." He glanced around my apartment with a critical eye. "This place isn’t secure. Liam knows where you live, and after what happened with your car..."

He didn’t need to finish the sentence. The vandalism, the mob—it could happen again, or worse.

"I want you to come with me," he said, decision evident in his voice. "I have a place—a secure place—where you’ll be safe."

I blinked, surprised by the sudden change in direction. "You want me to leave? Now?"

"Yes," he said simply. "Pack whatever’s important to you. Anything of value. The rest, we can replace."

There was an authority in his tone that brooked no argument, yet it wasn’t threatening like Liam’s. It was protective, the voice of a father looking out for his child.

I stood, looking around my apartment—the place that had been my home for years now feeling more like a trap than a sanctuary. "I don’t know..."

My father rose too, placing his hands on my shoulders. "Sophie, please trust me. I’ve spent twenty-nine years failing you as a father. Let me protect you now."

Something in his eyes—a determination, a desperation—made my decision for me. I nodded.

"Okay," I said. "I’ll come with you."

Relief flooded his features. He pulled out his phone and spoke briefly to someone on the other end. Within minutes, there was another knock at my door.

A tall man in a dark suit stood there, his expression professionally neutral. "Miss Sophie," he greeted me with a respectful nod.

"This is Ethan," my father explained. "He works for me. He’ll help you pack."

I didn’t miss the implication that my father had people who "worked for him," but I was too overwhelmed to question it. Instead, I moved through my apartment in a daze, pointing out items for Marcus to pack: clothes, jewelry, important documents, the few photographs I had of Diane and me together.

As I gathered my belongings, I couldn’t help but feel I was closing a Chapter of my life. The Sophie who had lived in this apartment—selfish, easily swayed, willing to betray her sister for luxury—was being left behind. Who I would become, I didn’t yet know.

When we’d finished packing, I took one last look around. So many memories here, not all of them good. My eyes lingered on the couch where Liam had kissed me, his lips tasting of expensive whiskey and deceit.

"Ready?" my father asked gently from the doorway.

I nodded, not trusting myself to speak. With a deep breath, I followed him out into the hallway, Marcus trailing behind with my bags.

Outside, a sleek black car waited at the curb, another man in a suit holding the door open. My vandalized car sat nearby, the hateful words still visible despite my efforts.

"I’ll have someone collect your car later," my father said, following my gaze. "Or we can get you a new one. Whatever you prefer."

I started to protest—I couldn’t afford a new car—before remembering that apparently money wasn’t an issue for my father. This realization struck me anew as I slipped into the backseat of the luxury vehicle, its leather interior smelling of wealth and privilege.

My father joined me, settling beside me with a natural ease. The driver pulled smoothly away from the curb, leaving behind my apartment, my car, and, I hoped, the woman I’d been.

As we drove, the cityscape gradually gave way to more exclusive neighborhoods, the houses growing larger and more ostentatious with each passing mile. When we turned onto a private road bordered by immaculately maintained hedges, my curiosity finally overcame my emotional exhaustion.

"Where are we going?" I asked.

My father smiled, a hint of nervousness in his expression. "Home," he said simply. "My home. And now, yours too, if you want it to be."