Hell Hath no fury like a billionaire's Ex-Chapter 94: Please Wake Up

Diane’s POV

The sound of the front door closing behind my mother and Sophie echoed through the house. I stood frozen in the hallway, one hand protectively cradling my swollen belly while the other gripped the wall for support. Tears that I’d refused to shed in front of my sister now streamed freely down my face.

How dare she? How dare she show up here, kneeling and begging as if her tears could wash away what she’d done?

I made my way back to the my room upstairs, my legs trembling with the force of my emotions. The bed accepted my weight as I sank down, burying my face in my hands. The image of Sophie on her knees at our doorstep haunted me—her mascara-streaked cheeks, her red-rimmed eyes, the genuine remorse etched across her features.

Had I been too harsh? The thought slipped in before I could stop it, and I pushed it away with a rush of anger. No. She slept with my husband. She betrayed me in the most painful way possible. She deserved every ounce of coldness I could muster.

I heard the front door opened again, and my mother’s footsteps approached up the stairs, she opened my room door slowly and hesitantly. I didn’t look up.

"Diane?" Her voice was gentle, cautious.

"I don’t want to talk about it," I said, my voice muffled by my hands.

The bed dipped as she sat beside me, her hand coming to rest on my shoulder. "You don’t have to say anything. I’ll just sit with you for a while."

We stayed like that in silence, her quiet presence comforting and suffocating. I knew what she wanted...reconciliation, healing, forgiveness. But I wasn’t ready. The wound Sophie had inflicted was still raw, still bleeding.

"She’s staying with him, you know," I finally said, looking up at my mother. "With father. I couldnt tell you I had made arrangememt to keep her safe, even though I’m still here trying to pick up the pieces of the mess she helped create."

My mother’s expression tightened. "Sophie is lost, Diane. She made a terrible, unforgivable mistake, and now she’s grasping at anything that feels safe from the chaos of her life."

"And I’m supposed to feel sorry for her?" The bitterness in my voice surprised even me.

"No," my mother replied simply. "You’re not supposed to feel anything you don’t genuinely feel. Your anger is valid, your hurt is valid.

I turned away, staring out the window at the ocean view. "I need to be alone, Mom. Please."

She squeezed my shoulder gently before rising. "Alright. I’ll be downstairs if you need me."

After she left, I curled up on the bed, my hands wrapped protectively around my belly. The twins were active today, their movements a reminder of everything I had to stay strong for. These babies would never know Liam as their father...I’d made that decision firmly. They deserved better. They deserved a father who would love them unconditionally, who would stand by them no matter what.

An image of Noah flashed naturally through my mind, and with it came a fresh wave of pain. I’d pushed away the one man who had shown me nothing but kindness and support. The weight of all I’d lost, my marriage, my sister, Noah, crashed down on me, and I surrendered to the tears once more.

I must have fallen asleep on the bed because the next thing I knew, I was being awakened by the sound of voices downstairs. I blinked, disoriented, as I slowly sat up. My back ached from the awkward position, and I grimaced as I stretched.

"Where is she?" Joan’s voice drifted up from below, concern evident in her tone.

"Upstairs. She wanted to be alone." My mother’s voice was subdued, lacking its usual warmth and energy.

I heard Joan’s footsteps on the stairs, climbing quickly. A moment later, she appeared in the doorway, her expression shifting from concern to relief when she saw me.

"There you are," she said, coming to sit beside me. "Your mom looks like someone died downstairs. What happened?"

I sighed, running a hand through my hair. "Sophie showed up today."

Joan’s eyebrows shot up. "Sophie? Here? What did she want?"

"Forgiveness," I said flatly. "She was on her knees, literally begging me to forgive her."

"And?"

"And I told her to go home. That I’d let her know when I was ready to see her, but not now."

Joan was quiet for a moment, studying my face. "How do you feel about that?"

I laughed bitterly. "Conflicted. Part of me wanted to slam the door in her face. Part of me wanted to pull her inside and hug her and never let go. Is that crazy? After what she did?"

"No," Joan said softly. "It’s not crazy at all. She’s your sister. You’ve loved her your whole life."

"She slept with my husband," I reminded her, as if she could have forgotten.

"Yes, she did. And that was inexcusable." Joan took my hand in hers. "But at least she’s trying to make amends. That’s something, isn’t it? More than Liam has done."

I pulled my hand away, suddenly irritated. "So I should forgive her because she showed up crying on your doorstep? Because she said sorry? Do you have any idea what it feels like to have the two people you trusted most in the world betray you like that?"

Joan held up her hands in surrender. "I’m not saying you should forgive her now, or ever if you don’t want to. I’m just saying that at some point, you might want to consider it, for your own peace of mind, if nothing else. Holding onto this anger isn’t good for you or the babies."

I knew she was right, but I wasn’t ready to hear it. "I need some time, Joan. This isn’t something I can just get over."

"Of course." She nodded, understanding in her eyes. "Take all the time you need. But remember, forgiveness doesn’t mean you have to let someone back into your life. It just means you’re not letting what they did continue to hurt you."

After Joan left, I tried to rest, but sleep eluded me. My mind kept replaying Sophie’s visit, her tear-streaked face as she begged for forgiveness. And then, inevitably, my thoughts turned to Noah again.

What would he say if he were here? He always had a way of putting things in perspective, of making me laugh even when I thought it impossible. I missed his calming presence, his unwavering support.

The night deepened around me as I tossed and turned in bed. The twins were restless too, their movements more pronounced than usual. I placed a hand on my belly, trying to soothe them. freewebnσvel.cѳm

"It’s okay," I whispered. "Everything’s going to be okay."

But would it? The question haunted me as I stared at the ceiling. I’d lost so much already.

Unable to sleep, I reached for my phone on the nightstand. The screen illuminated the darkened room as I scrolled to Noah’s contact information. My finger hovered over his name, hesitating. It was late , too late to call. And even if I did, would he answer? He hadn’t returned any of my previous calls or messages.

But I needed him. The realization hit me with startling clarity. Not for any scheme or business advantage, but because he was the only person besides Joan who truly saw me, who listened without judgment, who made me feel safe in a world that had become increasingly threatening.

I clicked on his name and scrolled through our text history, a sad smile forming as I read through his messages—thoughtful check-ins, silly jokes he’d send to cheer me up, photos from our weekend getaway. I opened my photo gallery and found the pictures we’d taken together...Noah and me fountain head resort, smiling at the camera. His smile was always so genuine, reaching all the way to his eyes.

My finger traced his face on the screen. Had I ruined whatever chance we had? The thought sent a fresh wave of pain through me.

Without thinking, I clicked on his number and typed out a message:

"Noah, I know it’s late and I understand if you don’t want to talk to me. But I miss you. I miss your laugh, your terrible jokes that somehow still make me smile, the way you always know what to say to make me feel better. I’m sorry for not being honest with you from the start. You deserved better than that. I hope someday you can forgive me. - Diane"

I hesitated before hitting send, rereading the message several times. Was it too much? Not enough? Would he even read it?

With a deep breath, I pressed send and placed the phone back on the nightstand, the photos of Noah still open on the screen. Exhaustion finally overcame me, and I drifted off to sleep with his image the last thing I saw.

Morning arrived with harsh sunlight streaming through the curtains I’d forgotten to close. My head pounded from too little sleep, and my back ached as I struggled to sit up.

I checked my phone, no response from Noah. Not that I’d expected one, but the disappointment still stung.

Sighing, I pulled myself out of bed and made my way downstairs, craving a cup of tea. The house was quiet...Joan had probably already left for work, and my mother was likely still sleeping.

As I reached the bottom of the stairs, a strange sound caught my attention...a soft thud followed by what sounded like labored breathing. I followed the noise to the living room and froze in the doorway, horror washing over me.

My mother lay sprawled on the floor near the couch, her body unnaturally still except for the shallow rise and fall of her chest. Her face was ashen, her eyes closed.

"Mom?" My voice came out as a strangled whisper. When she didn’t respond, panic surged through me. "MOM!"

I rushed to her side, gently falling to my knees beside her. "Mom, can you hear me? Mom, please!"

Her skin was sweaty when I touched her face, her breathing ragged and uneven. With trembling hands, I fumbled for my phone, only to realize I’d left it upstairs.

"JOAN!" I screamed, my voice tearing from my throat. "JOAN, HELP!"

Footsteps thundered down the stairs, and Joan appeared in the doorway, her hair still wet from the shower, her eyes wide with alarm.

"Diane, what’s..." She stopped short when she saw my mother on the floor. "Oh my God."

"Call 911," I gasped, tears blurring my vision. "She’s not responsive. I can’t... I can’t wake her up."

Joan sprang into action, rushing to get her phone while I elevated my mother’s head with a throw pillow, my hands shaking uncontrollably.

"Mom, please," I sobbed, as I sat besides her stroking her hair. "Please wake up. I need you. We all need you."

Joan returned moments later, her phone pressed to her ear. "Yes, we need an ambulance immediately." She rattled off the address to the dispatcher. "It’s my friend’s mother. She’s unconscious but breathing."

As Joan spoke, I noticed the security detail Andrew had assigned to us peering through the window. One of them opened the door, his expression alarmed.

"Mrs. Ashton, what’s happening?" he asked, stepping inside.

"My mother," I choked out, unable to say more.

Joan ended the call and turned to the security. "Her mother collapsed. We’ve called an ambulance, but if you can get her to the hospital faster..."

"Of course," he nodded, immediately speaking into his radio. "We’ll bring the car around. It’ll be faster than waiting."

Everything after that happened in a blur. The second security guard appeared, and together they carefully lifted my mother. Joan helped me to my feet, steadying me as my legs threatened to give way beneath me.

"She’s going to be okay," Joan said firmly, though I could hear the uncertainty in her voice. "We’re getting her help. She’s going to be okay."

I couldn’t speak, couldn’t think beyond the sight of my mother’s lifeless form being carried to the waiting SUV. My heart pounded so hard I thought it might burst from my chest, and the twins kicked, as if sensing my distress.

As we rushed out to the vehicle, a terrible thought struck me, what if these were my mother’s final moments? What if I never got to speak to her again? Our last conversation had been about Sophie, about forgiveness. I’d sent her away when she only wanted to comfort me.

The security team worked with practiced efficiency, one of them getting behind the wheel while the other helped arrange my mother in the backseat. Joan and I climbed in beside her, my hands never leaving hers, my tears falling onto her still face.

"I’ve got you, Mom," I whispered, though I wasn’t sure she could hear me. "Just hold on. Please hold on."