Hell Hath no fury like a billionaire's Ex-Chapter 93: I Miss You Di!

Sophie’s POV

The mansion felt suffocating, despite its expansive rooms and luxurious spaces. I paced the floor of my new bedroom, running my fingers over the silk bedspread that probably cost more than our entire apartment’s rent. My father’s attempts to make me comfortable only emphasized the gaping hole in my heart—the broken relationship with Diane.

The weight of what I’d done pressed down on me, making each breath a conscious effort. How could I have betrayed my sister so completely? The sister who had always been there for me, who had stood by me through everything.

Now here I was, surrounded by luxury and wealth beyond my imagination, and yet I’d never felt more hollow.

I dialed my mother’s number, my fingers trembling so badly I had to try twice before getting it right.

"Mom," I said the moment she answered, my voice cracking. "I can’t stay here. It’s too much—all of this." I gestured around the room, knowing she couldn’t see me but needing to express my overwhelming emotions.

"Sophie? What do you mean? Where are you?" Confusion colored her voice.

I took a deep breath. "I’m... I’m at Dad’s. Andrew’s. I’ve moved in with him."

The silence that followed was deafening.

" You’ve what?" my mother finally spoke, her voice barely above a whisper. ’Sophie, well, that’s your decision to make now. He’s your father, and a good one, despite the fact he left us. And, as you know, I can’t make decisions for you regarding this anymore."

"I know, Mom," I interrupted, tears streaming down my face. "I know, He’s trying to make amends, and I... I had nowhere else to go since I don’t feel safe about what liam would do if he finds out about what I did."

My mother’s sigh traveled through the phone, heavy with decades of hurt and forgiveness. "That man... after all these years, he just comes back and—" She stopped herself. "But that’s between him and me. I’ve forgiven him, Sophie. I had to, for my own peace.

"It’s not about him," I said, sliding down against the wall until I was sitting on the plush carpet. "It’s about me not being able to face Diane. What I did to her—" My voice broke completely.

My mother listened quietly, understanding seeping through the phone lines.

"I know I betrayed her," I continued, my voice dropping to a whisper. "I know nothing I do can ever make up for what I’ve done. But I need her to know I’m sorry. Really sorry."

"Sophie," my mother said gently, "Diane is still hurting. What you did..."

"I know," I interrupted, wiping my tears with the back of my hand. "I know exactly what I did. Every single moment haunts me. The luxury here, the comfort...it means nothing if I’ve lost my sister."

The silence stretched between us, heavy with unspoken pain.

"I want to see her," I finally said. "I want to beg her to forgive me. Even if she never does, I need her to know how deeply I regret everything."

My mother hesitated. "If you come over, you must understand she might not want to see you."

"I know," I whispered. "But I have to try."

After a careful discussion, my mother agreed I could come over. She would be there to support me, but warned me to approach carefully. "Tell her you came on your own," she advised. "I don’t want to further complicate things."

I chose a rideshare over the expensive cars in my father’s garage—a deliberate choice to show I wasn’t relying on the luxury he could provide. My mind was racing, rehearsing what I would say to Diane. A thousand opening lines ran through my head, each one sounding more inadequate than the last.

"I’m sorry."

"Please forgive me."

"I miss you."

"I was wrong."

"I never meant to hurt you."

All true, and all so painfully insufficient.

When the car pulled up to Joan’s beach house, my heart nearly stopped. Two broad-shouldered men in dark suits stood vigilantly by the gate, their stance professional but unmistakably protective. Security guards. My father’s work, no doubt, though I hadn’t known about it.

"Miss, can I help you?" the taller of the two asked as I approached, his tone polite but firm.

I swallowed hard. "I’m Sophie. Diane’s sister."

Their expressions shifted subtly...a flicker of recognition, a knowing glance exchanged between them. They already knew who I was. Of course they did. Father would have made sure of that.

"Of course, Miss Sophie," the guard nodded, stepping aside. "You can go right in."

It was unsettling, realizing my father had eyes here, watching Diane. Was it for protection? Of course yes, and at that moment, I was grateful to my father. All that mattered was seeing my sister and making sure she is safe.

The walk to the front door felt like miles, each step heavier than the last. The familiar neighborhood felt both comforting and terrifying. I raised my hand to knock, then hesitated, my courage faltering. What if she slammed the door in my face? What if this made everything worse?

But I had to try.

I knocked, my hand shaking uncontrollably.

From inside, I heard Diane’s voice call out, "Coming! Just a second!"

The sound of her voice...so familiar, so loved...sent a fresh wave of pain through me. How had I risked losing this? How had I been so selfish?

The door swung open, and there she was.

Diane. My sister. Her belly swollen with pregnancy. For a moment, we just stared at each other, the air between us charged with a thousand unspoken words.

Her face, initially confused as she opened the door, transformed into a mask of shock and then hardened into something cold and distant that broke my heart. She stood frozen, one hand leaning on the door frame, the other cradling her protruding stomach protectively, as if shielding her babies from me.

"What the hell are you doing here?" she demanded, her voice sharp as broken glass.

I opened my mouth, but no sound came out. All my carefully rehearsed words had vanished, leaving nothing but raw, aching emotion. Tears welled in my eyes and spilled over, running down my cheeks. The sight of her...my sister, my best friend, carrying new lives...hit me with physical force. I had nearly destroyed this. I had betrayed her trust in the worst possible way.

The sound of Diane’s raised voice brought our mother hurrying from somewhere inside the house. She appeared behind Diane, her eyes widening at the sight of me.

"Sophie?" she said, surprise coloring her voice convincingly. She was keeping her promise...pretending she hadn’t known I was coming.

Unable to bear it any longer, I sank to my knees on the doorstep, a sob tearing from my throat.

"I’m sorry, Di," I managed through my tears, my voice cracking. "I’m so, so sorry for everything I put you through."

My tears fell freely now, dripping onto the doorstep of Joan’s beach house. I could see Diane’s face, see the conflict raging there...anger, hurt, and something else. Something that looked almost like longing.

My mother moved beside Diane, placing a hand on her arm. Then, to my shock, she knelt beside me on the doorstep, grabbing my hands.

"Please, Diane," she said, her own eyes filling with tears. "Your sister is truly sorry. I know she hurt you terribly, but please, find it in your heart to at least hear her out."

Diane’s eyes widened at the sight of our mother on her knees. "Mom, get up," she said, her voice softening slightly. "You can’t be kneeling for me. I can’t stand seeing you on your knees. Please get up."

My mother rose slowly, but I remained on the ground, looking up at my sister through tears.

"Di, please," I begged. "I can’t bear for us to be apart like this. I know I don’t deserve your forgiveness, but I’m asking for a chance. A chance to be your sister again, to make up for everything, even if it takes me until my last breath."

For a moment, something flickered in Diane’s eyes—a softening, a hint of the sister I’d known all my life. Her hand twitched at her side, as if she might reach for me. But then it was gone, replaced by a carefully constructed wall of indifference. I could see the struggle in her eyes—the desire to forgive warring with the still-fresh pain of betrayal.

"Go home, Sophie," she said, her voice controlled but cold. "I don’t need you anywhere around here right now. I’ll let you know when I’m ready to see you, but not now. Please. Just go."

Without another word, she turned and walked back into the house, leaving me kneeling on the doorstep. The sound of the door closing felt like a physical blow, knocking the air from my lungs.

"Mom!" I cried out, reaching for her as she stood there, her expression torn between her two daughters. "Mom, please talk to Diane for me. I can’t live with myself. I just want to be a good sister again."

The door opened again, but it was my mother this time, stepping outside and pulling me into a tight embrace as I sobbed against her shoulder.

"It’s okay," she whispered, stroking my hair. "Give her time, Sophie. She’s hurting with alot going on in her life, but she loves you. Deep down, she still loves you."

We stayed like that for a long moment, mother and daughter clinging to each other on a doorstep, both of us crying for the brokenness of our family. When we finally pulled apart, my mother wiped my tears with her thumbs.

"You should go home now," she said gently. "Let me work on Diane. She’s stubborn...like you, like all of us...but she’s not cruel."

I nodded, too emotionally drained to argue. My mother helped me book another rideshare, and we waited together in silence until it arrived.

"Don’t give up hope," she said as she hugged me one last time. "Forgiveness takes time, but it’s possible. I should know—I’ve had a lot of practice forgiving both of you over the years."

The faint attempt at humor drew a watery smile from me. "I love you, Mom."

"I love you too, Sophie. Now go home and get some rest. Let me handle your sister for now."

As I hugged her goodbye, the weight of my actions crashed down on me again. I glanced back at the house, hoping to catch one last glimpse of Diane, but the windows remained empty. Somewhere inside, my sister was hurting because of me.

The ride home was a blur of tears and memories—snapshots of Diane and me as children, as teenagers, as young adults. Always together, always connected. And now, possibly forever broken.

I cried until there was nothing left, until my eyes burned and my throat felt raw. The driver kindly pretended not to notice, keeping his eyes on the road as I fell apart in his backseat.

By the time we reached the gate of my father’s mansion, I had cried myself into a state of numb exhaustion. The car pulled up to the front entrance, and I stumbled out, my legs barely supporting me.

In the quiet of my new bedroom, surrounded by photographs of me and my sister, I made a promise. To myself, to Diane, to the sister I’d betrayed.

I would spend the rest of my life trying to make things right. No matter how long it took, no matter what it cost me.

Because some bonds—true, sisterly bonds—were worth fighting for.

Even when you’d done everything possible to destroy them.