Hell Hath no fury like a billionaire's Ex-Chapter 88: Your Feast, Your Majesty

Diane’s POV

The entire drive home from the hospital, I couldn’t wipe the smile off my face. Every time I visualized Liam...the great, powerful CEO...sprinting through the hospital corridors in nothing but a flapping gown, I erupted into fresh peals of laughter. My stomach muscles ached from it, though the twins seemed to enjoy the vibrations, kicking exuberantly as if joining in on the joke.

"You two are going to be mischievous just like your mother," I chuckled, patting my belly affectionately.

As I pulled into Joan’s driveway, I composed myself, attempting to arrange my features into something resembling solemnity. After all, I’d just visited my injured estranged husband in the hospital—I should appear at least somewhat affected.

But as I approached the house, I noticed something unusual. Mom and Joan were standing outside by the front door, their faces masks of worry. Mom was wringing her hands...a nervous habit she’d had since I was a child...while Joan paced back and forth, checking her watch every few seconds.

The sight was so comical I nearly burst into laughter again. Did they think I wouldn’t return? That I’d somehow been abducted by Liam’s henchmen while visiting him in the hospital?

I purposely slowed my walk, drawing out their agony for a few more seconds.

"You should see your faces!" I called out as I approached. "I didn’t go on a suicide mission! And why are both of you standing by the door like sentinels?"

They stared at me in disbelief, neither speaking as I reached them.

"Well?" I prompted, arching an eyebrow. "Are we going to stand out here all day, or can a pregnant woman get some rest?"

That seemed to snap them out of their trance. Mom hurried to open the door while Joan hovered close to my side, as if afraid I might collapse at any moment.

"We were worried sick," Mom finally said as we stepped inside. "You’ve been gone for hours, and after seeing Liam’s condition on the news..."

"We thought he might have friends at the hospital," Joan added, her voice tight. "People who might... I don’t know, try to upset you."

I eased myself onto the sofa with a dramatic sigh, kicking off my shoes and stretching my legs out. "The only people at that hospital were nurses fawning over the pregnant ex-wife who still cared enough to visit her scoundrel of a husband. I was practically canonized on the spot."

Joan and Mom exchanged glances, clearly not entirely convinced by my nonchalance.

"So..." Joan began hesitantly, "how did it go? How was he?"

I leaned back, closing my eyes. "Before I share a single detail of my fascinating hospital adventure, I need a foot and shoulder massage. It’s been a long, long day."

I opened one eye to catch their expressions—a mixture of frustration and concern that made me bite the inside of my cheek to keep from smiling.

"Of course, sweetheart," Mom said, immediately heading for the stairs. "I’ll get the good ointment from the bathroom."

Joan stood there, arms crossed, eyes narrowed. "You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?"

I batted my eyelashes innocently. "Enjoying what? The prospect of a massage? Absolutely."

"You know exactly what I mean," she muttered, but her lips were twitching despite herself.

Mom returned with the ointment and immediately set to work on my feet while Joan reluctantly took up position behind the sofa to massage my shoulders.

"Mmm," I moaned exaggeratedly as Mom worked on a particularly tight spot. "That’s divine. You missed your calling as a masseuse, Mom."

"Enough stalling," Joan grumbled, digging her thumbs into my shoulders with perhaps a bit more force than necessary. "Tell us what happened at the hospital."

I sighed contentedly, closing my eyes again. "You know, I’m suddenly famished. Being a witness to high drama really works up an appetite. Maybe some veggie sauce and potatoes before storytime?"

Joan’s hands stopped moving. "You can’t be serious."

I pouted, looking up at her. "I most certainly am. You can’t expect me to tell such an enthralling tale on an empty stomach. It wouldn’t do the story justice."

Mom, ever the enabler when it came to feeding people, immediately stood up. "Of course you need to eat, sweetheart. Those babies need nourishment after all that stress."

Joan threw up her hands in exasperation. "Fine! I’ll make your damn potatoes and veggie sauce. But this story better be worth it."

She stomped off toward the kitchen, muttering something that sounded suspiciously like "manipulative pregnant women" under her breath.

Mom resumed her ministrations on my feet, her eyes curious. "It must have been quite something if you’re drawing it out like this."

I smiled mysteriously. "Oh, it was... illuminating."

In the kitchen, Joan banged pots and pans around with unnecessary force, the sound of her irritation making me smile wider.

Twenty minutes later...during which I’d shared with Mom detailed accounts of every twinge, kick, and hiccup the twins had experienced over the past week...Joan emerged from the kitchen, bearing a tray with steaming plates of perfectly roasted potatoes and a rich vegetable sauce.

"Your feast, Your Majesty," she said, setting the tray down with mock servility. "Now will you please tell us what happened?"

I straightened up, inspecting the food with a critical eye. "This looks acceptable. But I think I need a glass of water first."

"Oh, for God’s sake!" Joan exploded, throwing her hands up again.

Mom, trying to hide her smile, quickly fetched me a glass of water. I took a deliberately slow sip, maintaining eye contact with Joan over the rim.

"Perfect," I pronounced, setting down the glass. "Now, let me just get comfortable..."

I shifted positions, fluffed the cushions behind me, stretched my neck from side to side, and wiggled my toes. Joan looked like she might spontaneously combust.

"Diane," she said through gritted teeth, "if you don’t start talking in the next five seconds, I swear I’m going to..."

"Table manners, Joan," I interrupted primly, taking a bite of potato. "No talking while eating, remember? That was always your rule."

Joan’s mouth fell open. "But you used to talk while we ate all the time before! Why not tell us now, you infuriating woman?" She emphasized her point with a dramatic scowl that was so exaggerated I couldn’t help myself.

I burst into laughter...deep, genuine belly laughs that shook my entire body. Joan’s indignation only fueled my mirth until tears were streaming down my face.

"Oh!" I gasped between laughs. "Oh, your face! You should see yourself!"

Joan’s glare intensified, which only made me laugh harder.

"Diane," Mom said worriedly as my laughter crescendoed. "Are you okay? Take deep breaths, sweetheart."

I clutched my throat and made an exaggerated choking sound, pretending to struggle for air.

Mom’s eyes widened in panic. She rushed to my side and began patting...then thumping...my back with surprising force for a woman her age.

"Mom!" I wheezed, now laughing at her reaction. "Mom, stop! I’m fine! I was joking!"

Joan, finally catching on, rolled her eyes dramatically. "Unbelievable. You’re terrorizing us on purpose."

"The look on your faces," I gasped, wiping away tears of mirth. "Worth every second."

Mom sank back onto the sofa, hand over her heart. "Diane! You nearly gave me a heart attack!"

"Oh please," I said, finally regaining my composure and taking another bite of potato. "The only person having cardiac issues today is Liam."

That got their attention.

"So you’re finally going to tell us?" Joan asked, leaning forward eagerly.

I finished my plate with deliberate slowness, watching their anticipation build. When the last morsel was gone, I delicately dabbed at my lips with a napkin, took one final sip of water, and let out an ostentatious burp.

"Excuse me," I said, patting my chest. "Pregnancy, you know."

"Diane!" Joan and Mom exclaimed in unison.

"Alright, alright," I laughed, holding up my hands in surrender. "I suppose I’ve tortured you enough."

I cleared my throat theatrically and settled back into storyteller mode.

"Picture this," I began, lowering my voice dramatically. "Memorial Hospital. The halls are bustling with activity. Reporters circling like vultures outside. And there I am, the betrayed, heavily pregnant wife, arriving to check on my poor, injured husband."

I rose from the sofa, now fully committed to my performance. I paced the living room, gesturing grandly.

"Dr. Chen meets me in the lobby, just fawning over my apparent magnanimity. ’Oh, Mrs. Ashton,’" I mimicked in a high-pitched voice, clasping my hands to my chest, "’you’re such a saint for coming despite everything!’"

Mom and Joan were both leaning forward now, completely engrossed.

"So I’m led to Liam’s room, playing the part of the concerned wife perfectly. And there he is," I continued, my voice dropping to a whisper, "all bruised and battered, hooked up to monitors, looking absolutely pathetic."

"What did he say?" Joan asked breathlessly.

I smirked. "Nothing. He was pretending to be unconscious. But I could tell he was faking it."

"How?" Mom asked.

"The tension around his eyes," I explained. "I’ve slept beside the man for years. I know when he’s actually asleep."

I resumed my pacing, my voice rising with excitement as I continued the tale.

"So Dr. Chen and the nurse leave us alone—just for a moment, they say. And as soon as that door closes..." I paused for dramatic effect, enjoying their rapt attention. "I drop the act completely."

"What did you do?" Joan whispered, her eyes wide.

I grinned wickedly. "I threatened hi"

Mom gasped, her hand flying to her mouth, while Joan let out a bark of laughter.

"But that’s not the best part," I continued, warming to my story. "I went into the bathroom and pretended to make a phone call—loud enough for him to hear, of course. I started talking about an injection, saying things like, ’This will look like natural complications,’ and ’He deserves to suffer for what he did to me.’"

"You didn’t!" Joan exclaimed, delighted horror written across her face.

"I absolutely did," I confirmed with a triumphant nod. "And then—" I clapped my hands together sharply, making them both jump, "—Liam’s eyes snap open. He rips out his IV, disconnects all the monitors, and bolts from the room like his ass is on fire!"

I demonstrated, mimicking Liam’s frantic escape, flapping my arms as if they were the back of a hospital gown. "The alarms start blaring, nurses are running everywhere, and I’m just standing there, the picture of innocent confusion."

By now, Mom and Joan were both doubled over with laughter.

"The nurse tells me he ran straight through the lobby," I continued, barely able to get the words out through my own giggles, "in nothing but a hospital gown! Can you imagine? Liam Ashton, the big-shot CEO, sprinting through downtown, his bare ass hanging out for all the world to see, convinced his pregnant ex-wife is about to murder him!"

Joan actually slid off the sofa onto the floor, clutching her stomach as she howled with laughter. Mom was wiping tears from her eyes, her shoulders shaking with silent mirth.

"And the best part?" I said, lowering myself carefully back onto the sofa. "Dr. Chen and the entire hospital staff now think I’m a saint for rushing to his side despite everything, while Liam looks like he’s having a complete mental breakdown. It’s perfect."

"Oh my God," Joan gasped from her position on the floor. "That is the most brilliant thing I’ve ever heard."

Mom was still laughing too hard to speak, just shaking her head in amazement.

"Karma," I said, stretching out contentedly, "is truly a magnificent bitch."

We sat there in the living room, the three of us laughing until our sides ached, the tension of the past months momentarily forgotten. In that moment, despite everything, I felt light. Free. As if the weight of Liam’s betrayal had finally begun to lift from my shoulders.