Hell Hath no fury like a billionaire's Ex-Chapter 84: This is What You Made Me

Diane’s POV

The call from Andrew came the next day. I was already fully awake and done with my morning routine, having spent most of the night tossing and turning, my mind racing with thoughts as I lay lazily on the bed.

"It’s done," Andrew said, his voice calm and steady. "Sophie is safe. She’s staying with me now."

I sat up slowly, one hand instinctively cradling my pregnant belly. "She’s with you? At your house?"

"Yes. I convinced her to leave her apartment yesterday. She didn’t have much choice after what happened. She was... vulnerable."

A complicated mix of emotions washed over me—relief that Sophie was safe, anger that she had sought refuge with the father who had abandoned us, resentment that she was being sheltered after her betrayal.

"Thank you," I said finally, the words sticking slightly in my throat. Despite my lingering anger toward Andrew, I couldn’t deny the gratitude I felt for his protection of Sophie. "Is she... is she okay?"

"Physically, yes," Andrew replied after a brief hesitation. "Emotionally... she’s been through a lot. She’s carrying a heavy burden of guilt."

"Good," a vindictive part of me thought. But the thought was fleeting, quickly replaced by concern. No matter what Sophie had done, I didn’t want her destroyed by it.

"You didn’t tell her, did you?" I asked, my voice dropping to a whisper even though no one else was in the room. "That I asked you to help her?"

"No," Andrew assured me. "I was discreet, just as you asked. As far as Sophie knows, I reached out to her of my own accord." He paused, his voice softening. "Diane, I can’t tell you how much I’m looking forward to having both my daughters under one roof. When will you—"

"What about Liam?" I interrupted, unwilling to engage with his fantasy of a family reunion. "Have you found him?"

Andrew cleared his throat, clearly understanding my deflection. "Yes. It’s been... handled. I’ve sent you the location via text. He’s secure at an abandoned warehouse on the outskirts of town. My men will ensure no one disturbs you."

My heartbeat quickened as I checked my phone. The text was there—an address with a pin drop on a map.

"Thank you," I said again, this time with more genuine feeling.

"Diane," Andrew’s voice was hesitant. "I know you feel you need to do this, but please, be careful. In your condition—"

"I’ll be fine," I cut him off, swinging my feet to the floor and standing with some effort. "This is something I need to do."

After ending the call, I moved quickly. I changed into black leggings and an oversized shirt. I pulled my hair back into a tight ponytail...practical, no-nonsense. From my drawer, I extracted a pair of dark sunglasses and dropped them into my handbag. On impulse, I reached for the big industrial manicure set just sitting there in the lower drawer —the one with the particularly sharp, stainless steel tools. I slid it into my big bag, my mind racing with possibilities.

I knocked on Joan’s door, but she was already on a Zoom call with a client, her laptop balanced on her knees, her voice taking on that professional tone I knew so well.

"See you later," I mouthed when she glanced up, raising an eyebrow at my outfit and the keys in my hand.

I waved dismissively at her concerned look and headed downstairs.

Mom was in the kitchen, cleaning up from her own breakfast. She’d already prepared tea and toast for me, ever the nurturing maternal force.

"Good morning, sweetheart," she said, smiling as I entered. "I’ve made your favorite—"

"Thanks Mom, but I already had breakfast. I’ve got something urgent to attend to."

Her smile faded, replaced by the worry that had become her default expression. "Diane, is everything alright? You shouldn’t be running around in your condition—"

"I’m pregnant, not incapacitated," I reminded her gently, pressing a kiss to her forehead. "I’ll be fine, I promise."

I didn’t give her time to protest further, snatching up the keys to the car and heading for the door. The weight of what I was about to do settled over me as I started the engine.

The drive to the warehouse took longer than I’d expected, the city gradually giving way to industrial zones and then abandoned lots. By the time I pulled up to the dilapidated building, my resolve had hardened into something cold and implacable.

Two men in dark suits stood at the entrance, their expressions neutral but their postures alert. They straightened as I approached, nodding in recognition—Andrew must have described me to them.

"Mrs. Ashton," one said respectfully, opening the heavy metal door.

I stepped inside, my eyes adjusting to the dimmer light. Another suited man appeared, guiding me through a maze of empty spaces to a small room at the back of the building. He knocked once on the metal door, then pushed it open for me.

As I stepped inside, I slid the sunglasses over my eyes, partly for intimidation, partly to shield myself from what I was about to see.

The sight that met me nearly made me falter. Liam was tied to a chair, which was itself secured to a large concrete pillar. His hands were bound to the armrests, his ankles to the chair legs. A blindfold covered his eyes, but I could see the damage underneath—his face was swollen, bruises blooming across his jaw and cheek. Blood trickled from a split lip, and more bruises marked his neck and exposed arms. He looked smaller somehow, diminished, nothing like the powerful CEO who had cast me out of my own home.

Two more security men stood behind him, impassive as statues.

I took a metal folding chair from against the wall and placed it directly in front of Liam, the scrape of its legs against concrete making him flinch. I sat down, my back straight, one hand resting protectively over my belly.

"Remove his blindfold," I instructed one of the men.

As the guard reached for the fabric, Liam began to struggle, thrashing his head from side to side. The guard responded with a swift, brutal punch to Liam’s ribs that stilled him instantly. I winced despite myself, the sound of knuckles against flesh making my stomach turn.

The blindfold came away, and Liam blinked rapidly, his eyes adjusting to the light. When his gaze landed on me, his expression shifted from confusion to shock to a flicker of fear.

"So it is you," he croaked, his voice hoarse. "You did this to me."

I leaned forward, unable to suppress the smile that curved my lips. "What a pleasant surprise, Liam," I said, my voice dripping with sarcasm. "Fancy meeting you here."

He strained against his bonds, but they held fast. I took a moment to look at him...really look at him...taking in every detail of his disheveled appearance.

"How the mighty have fallen," I continued, adjusting my sunglasses. "Just take a good look at yourself. Where’s your pride now? Your urge for control? Your strong-headedness? Where has it all gone?"

Liam’s gaze dropped to the floor, his shoulders slumping in what appeared to be shame.

I pressed on, the words I’d been holding back for months finally pouring out. "After everything you’ve done to me—restricting me from our house, our finances. You took my life away. I’ve always been good to you, always been the best thing that has ever happened in that pathetic life of yours, put you first above everything else. But what did you do?" My voice rose, trembling with emotion. "You kept screwing my sister, again and again."

Throughout my tirade, Liam kept his head bowed, the picture of remorse. But I wasn’t done.

"And to make matters worse, you planned to kill me. Having me tailed, threatened. The woman who is carrying your unborn children." I pressed a hand to my belly as the twins kicked."

"You made me do this alone, going through this pregnancy journey by myself. Have you no shame, Liam?"

"To think I once believed you were flawless, no lies, no wrongs... Oh man, I must’ve lost my mind. You don’t deserve forgiveness, Liam. You don’t deserve happiness."

When he didn’t respond, something snapped inside me. "Look at me!" I shouted, the force of my own voice surprising me. "Fucking look at me!"

Slowly, Liam raised his head, his swollen eyes meeting mine through the dark lenses of my sunglasses. For a long moment, we stared at each other, the weight of our shared history and the wreckage of our marriage hanging between us.

Then he spoke, his voice so soft I had to lean forward to hear him.

"I’m sorry, Diane," he whispered, a tear slipping down his bruised cheek. "I’m sorry for everything. For the infidelity, for the hurt and pain I’ve caused you. Please... remember how we loved each other once. Remember the good times, the dreams we shared." His voice cracked. "I just want to be part of my children’s lives. Please, Diane."

Something inside me softened at his words, at the genuine emotion in his voice. Maybe there was still a shred of the man I’d fallen in love with inside this broken shell. Maybe—

Liam’s lips twitched, then curled into a smile that was more grimace than grin. Then, incredibly, he began to laugh—a hollow, disturbing sound that echoed off the concrete walls. Blood from his split lip stained his teeth red, making the laughter all the more horrifying.

"Look at you," he sneered, all trace of remorse vanishing. "Melting like ice, thinking I’m going to take you back and start a new life? You’re such a joke, Diane. Always have been."

I sat frozen, blindsided by the sudden shift.

"I hate you," he continued, spitting the words with venom. "I fell out of love with you years ago. You’re so ’boring’. There’s nothing exciting about you, nothing that makes me feel extremely happy to want to come home at night. Well, I did anyway."

One of the security men stepped forward, fist raised, but I held up a hand to stop him. I needed to hear this—all of it.

"You ruined my life," Liam ranted, his eyes wild now. "My reputation, everything I stood for. And that interview you did? That just made me hate you even more." He leaned forward as far as his bonds would allow. "Everything I just said—the apologies, the remorse—it was all lies. The only thing I meant was wanting to be part of my children’s lives. And I will fight you for that, Diane. I’ll take them from you, make sure they know what a pathetic, weak woman their mother is—"

Something snapped inside me. I stood abruptly, the chair scraping backward. In three quick strides, I was in front of him. My hand connected with his face in a slap so hard it rocked him backward. Before he could recover, I slapped him again, and then a third time, the sound echoing like gunshots in the small room.

"How dare you bring my children into this, you bastard!" I screamed, my voice barely recognizable to my own ears.

I retrieved my bag from where I’d left it, my hands shaking with rage as I withdrew the manicure set. I laid out the implements on a small metal table nearby—cuticle pushers, nail clippers, scissors, files, each one gleaming wickedly under the harsh overhead light.

Dragging my chair closer to Liam, I gestured to the array of tools. "Choose, Liam. Which one would you like me to use?"

His eyes widened in genuine fear for the first time. "Diane, what the hell are you doing?"

I smiled, a cold, detached expression that felt foreign on my face. I selected a cuticle pusher, its metal edge filed to a sharp point. Without warning, I drove it into the back of his hand, not deep enough to cause permanent damage, but enough that he screamed in pain, his body jerking against the restraints.

"No, no," I said, shaking my head as I withdrew the implement. "Let’s try this one. I think it will be less painful."

I picked up the nail clippers, positioning them over his index finger. With a swift, brutal motion, I closed them over his nail and pulled, tearing it free from the nail bed. Liam’s scream was primal, animalistic, tears streaming down his face as blood welled from the exposed skin.

But I wasn’t finished. I took the cuticle scissors next, using them to clip at the raw flesh where his nail had been, pressing down with all my strength. The screaming intensified, Liam’s body convulsing in the chair, until suddenly a dark stain spread across the front of his pants.

A harsh laugh escaped me as I realized what had happened. "Oh, Liam," I said with mock concern, "what have you done?"

The smell of urine filled the small room as Liam sobbed, his head hanging low, all defiance gone from his posture. I stood up, looking down at the broken man who had once been my husband, who had once been my world.

Contempt filled me, and I spat directly in his face. "You’re pathetic," I said, my voice cold and clear. "And you will never, ever come near my children. Do you understand me? They will know your name, know your face. But they will be beyond your reach."

I turned to the security men. "Strip him naked and dump him somewhere public. Let everyone see what he truly is."

One of them nodded, already moving forward to comply.

I leaned down, bringing my face inches from Liam’s. "I’m going to ruin you, Liam. By the time I’m done, your name will be poison. Every door will close in your face. Every former friend will cross the street to avoid you." I kept my voice low, intimate, as if sharing a secret. "And you will sign the divorce papers, then send it to my lawyer. You will give me my freedom, all the financial entitlement and full custody of my children. Because if you don’t, next time, I won’t be so merciful."

I straightened up, suddenly exhausted by the intensity of my emotions. The adrenaline that had carried me through the confrontation was fading, leaving behind a hollow feeling.

"Is there anything else you’d like us to do, Mrs. Ashton?" one of the security men asked as I gathered my things.

The formality of the address—Mrs. Ashton, Liam’s name—grated on me. "It’s just Diane," I corrected him in that moment. "And no, you’ve done more than enough. Just make sure he understands the consequences of tailing me again."

As I walked toward the door, Liam’s broken voice followed me. "You won’t get away with this, Diane. You’re not this person. You’re not cruel. This isn’t you."

I paused at the threshold, looking back over my shoulder. "You’re right, Liam. This isn’t me. This is what you made me." I removed my sunglasses, letting him see the full weight of my hurt and anger in my eyes. "Remember that when you’re explaining to the world why you were found naked and bleeding on a street corner."

With that, I walked out, closing the door firmly behind me. In the dim corridor outside, I leaned against the wall, suddenly aware of how violently I was shaking. My heart raced, and I felt light-headed, the realization of what I’d just done crashing over me in waves.

I’d tortured a man. I’d ordered him humiliated. I’d become someone I didn’t recognize. fɾeewebnoveℓ.co๓

But as I made my way out of the warehouse into the bright sunshine, another thought struck me—I felt in control. The woman who had been victimized, humiliated, and cast aside was gone.

In her place stood someone new—someone who would protect herself and her children at any cost.

I looked down at my hands, expecting to see them stained with blood, but they were clean. I slid back into the driver’s seat, taking several deep breaths to steady myself before turning the key in the ignition.