Hell Hath no fury like a billionaire's Ex-Chapter 154: What Have You Done

Diane’s POV

That night, I couldn’t sleep. I tossed and turned, my mind racing with thoughts of Liam. What could Liam have written that was so important? What truth was he finally ready to tell? What has he done this time?

By 3 a.m., I gave up. I slipped out of bed gently, careful not to wake Noah, whose soft breathing steadied the silence. The floor felt cold under my feet as I padded downstairs, each step toward the living room making my heart pound louder.

There it was.

The letter.

Unopened. Untouched. Like it was waiting for me to be brave enough.

I picked up my phone, thumb hovering over the screen. My hands trembled as I tapped Joan’s name. I hated disturbing her at this hour, but I didn’t know what else to do. I couldn’t carry this alone.

She answered on the second ring, her voice groggy. "Diane? Is everything okay?"

"No. I mean... I don’t know." My voice cracked. "I just need to talk to someone before I lose my mind."

Joan was fully awake now. "What’s wrong? You sound... Diane, what happened?"

"Holbrook came by tonight," I said, my voice shaky as I drifted off. I told her everything: the letter, the money, the warning about Maxwell, Liam’s current state. Joan listened without interrupting, her breathing the only sound on the line.

"What do you think I should do?" I asked when I finished.

"About the letter? I think you should read it," Joan said firmly. "I know it’s difficult, Diane. I know what Liam did is really unforgivable, but at some point, you will have to forgive him so you too can find peace. About visiting him... that’s harder. But Diane, if he’s really as broken as Holbrook says, maybe you need to see him one more time. For your own closure, if nothing else."

"I’m not ready for that," I whispered. "I’m not ready to see him suffering and feel... feel..."

"Feel what?"

"Guilty. Responsible. Like I should have done something to help him before it got this bad."

"You’re not responsible for Liam’s choices. You never were. And you’re not responsible for saving him either. If he’s finally ready to face what he’s done, that’s his journey."

"I don’t know if I can handle seeing him like that."

"Then don’t. Not yet. Read the letter. Let it sit. Visit if you’re ever ready. There’s no clock on forgiveness."

After I hung up, I sat in the dark living room, staring at the letter. My hands were shaking as I finally picked it up, turning it over in my hands. His handwriting was different, shakier, more uncertain than I remembered.

Morning light was just beginning to filter through the windows when I finally worked up the courage to open it. My hands trembled as I unfolded the letter, and I had to blink back tears before I could focus on the words.

My dearest Diane,

I know I have no right to write to you again, no right to ask for even a moment of your time or attention. But I need you to know some things before it’s too late.

The opening lines hit me like a physical blow. Before it’s too late. What did that mean?

First, I want you to know how deeply sorry I am for everything I’ve done. Not just the affairs, not just the financial manipulation, but for the fundamental way I failed you as a husband and as a man. You deserved so much better than what I gave you.

Tears were streaming down my face as I read his confession about Maxwell Richardson, about his role in Sophie’s death, about the money he’d hidden. But it was the personal parts that destroyed me.

I need you to know that you were the best thing that ever happened to me. Loving you, being loved by you, creating Dylan and Danielle with you, those were the only good things I ever did. And I destroyed all of it because I was too broken to accept that I deserved happiness.

My sobs were getting louder. I pressed a hand to my mouth, trying to muffle the sound so I wouldn’t wake Noah and the children.

Please tell our children that their father loved them, even if he couldn’t show it properly. Tell them that they are the most precious things in the world, and that every day they live good lives is a victory over the darkness I brought into this world.

I was crying so hard I could barely read the words. This wasn’t the manipulative, arrogant man who had destroyed our marriage. This was someone broken, someone who had finally seen himself clearly and was horrified by what he found.

I came into this world innocent, and I want to leave it with no secrets. This is my final confession, my last attempt to tell the truth about everything.

Final confession. Leave it. The words struck me like lightning, and suddenly I understood what Holbrook had been trying to tell me. Liam wasn’t just broken, he was saying goodbye.

I was fumbling for my phone to call Hoolbrook, to call the prison, to do something...anything...when it rang in my hand. The number was unfamiliar, but something made me answer.

"Hello?" I answered with a shaky breath.

"Is this Diane Evans?"

"Yes."

"This is Warden Martinez from Riverside Correctional Facility. I’m calling about your ex-husband, Liam Ashton."

The world stopped. Everything, my breathing, my heartbeat, time itself seemed to freeze.

"We found him dead in his cell this morning. He had used his sheets to make a twist and hung himself to death. I’m sorry to inform you that Mr. Ashton took his own life."

The phone slipped from my hand, falling to the floor. "No," I whispered. "No, no, no. Liam, please. What the hell have you done?"

I was on my knees, screaming into the empty house, my heart shattering into a million pieces. This wasn’t supposed to happen. I was supposed to read his letter, maybe visit him, maybe find some way to forgive him. He wasn’t supposed to be gone.

Noah came running down the stairs, his hair disheveled, his eyes wide with alarm. "Diane! What’s happened?"

"He’s dead," I sobbed. "Liam is dead. He killed himself."

Noah dropped to his knees beside me, pulling me into his arms as I fell apart. "Oh, baby. I’m so sorry."

"I should have gone to see him," I cried. "I should have called. I should have done something. I didn’t give him a chance to make things right even though he had begged me. This is all my fault."

"No," Noah said firmly. "This is not your fault. None of this is your fault."

"It is my fault, Noah. I should have fucking done something. I had told him I hope he rots in that prison. I had said the most hurtful things to him that can break anyone. I didn’t give him a chance to make things right."

"Please don’t say that, baby... please, it breaks my heart seeing you cry like this. Please, baby, don’t do this to yourself. If not for anything, for our children."

But I couldn’t stop crying. I couldn’t stop thinking about the letter, about his final words, about the fact that he had died alone in a prison cell while I was sleeping peacefully in my beautiful new house. I couldn’t stop blaming myself for not giving him that second chance he so desperately needed.

I had never imagined that losing Liam would hurt this much. I had convinced myself that I hated him, that I would feel nothing but relief when he was out of my life forever. But this...this was agony. This was the death of every possibility for redemption, for closure, for the man he might have become if he had chosen differently.

Despite everything he’d done, despite the pain he’d caused, despite the fact that he’d been responsible for Sophie’s death and had put my mother through a lot, he was still the father of my children. He was still the man I’d once loved enough to marry, to build a life with, to create two beautiful babies with.

Now he was gone.

And I would never get the chance to say I understood. That I saw his remorse. That somewhere inside me, I had started to forgive him.

The children would wake up soon, and I would have to find a way to tell them that their father was dead. That he had chosen to leave them. That his pain had won.

"This hurts so much," I whispered against Noah’s chest. "Whatever else he was, whatever else he did, he was their father. And now he’s gone, and they’ll never know him."

"They’ll know him through you," Noah said softly. "Through the good memories you choose to share with them."

Noah held me while I cried, whispering words of comfort and love i barely heard, reminding me that I was safe, that our children were safe, that whatever came next, we would face it together.

I looked down at the letter, still clutched in my hand, and realized that Liam had given me something precious in his final act. Not just his confession, not just his apology, but his permission to move forward without guilt.

But I knew that this moment would stay with me forever, the moment I realized that love and hate, forgiveness and justice, mercy and judgment, were far more complicated than I’d ever imagined. And that sometimes, the most profound grief comes not from losing someone you love, but from losing someone you could have learned to love again, if only you’d had more time.

And that realization broke my heart all over again.

Liam was gone. And God help me I would miss him. I would miss him so much, even though I can’t bring myself to accept that fact.

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