Hell Hath no fury like a billionaire's Ex
Chapter 116: Last Resort

Chapter 116: Last Resort

Liam’s POV

My hands trembled as I scrolled through my contacts, the familiar name blurring through the haze of desperation that had become my constant companion. Holbrook.

The man who’d abandoned me when I needed him most, who’d walked away from our professional relationship like it meant nothing. But he was also the only lawyer who knew every detail of my case, every dirty secret, every strategic move we’d attempted.

Bringing in someone new would mean starting from scratch—explaining the missing documents, the financial complexities, the web of lies I’d woven around my marriage. I didn’t have that kind of time. Not with Diane closing in on everything I’d worked for.

I pressed the call button before I could lose my nerve.

The phone rang three times before his familiar voice answered, professional but wary. "Liam."

"Richard," I said, hating how my voice cracked slightly. "I know you said you were done, but I need you to hear me out."

There was a pause, and I could practically hear him weighing whether to hang up immediately. "I made my position clear the last time we spoke."

"I know, I know." The words tumbled out in a desperate rush. "But you already know everything about this case. Every document, every strategy, every angle we’ve explored. Bringing in someone new would be... it would be chaos, Richard. I’m not cut out for that kind of stress right now."

Another pause, longer this time. I held my breath, listening to the silence stretch between us.

"What exactly are you asking me, Liam?"

Hope flickered in my chest. He was still on the line. That had to mean something. "I’m asking you to come back. I’m willing to triple your fee—hell, I’ll quadruple it if that’s what it takes. Name your price, Richard. I just need someone in my corner who understands what we’re dealing with."

The silence that followed felt eternal. I could hear my own heartbeat pounding in my ears as I waited for his response. When he finally spoke, his voice was carefully measured.

"Triple my fee, you said?"

"Yes. More if you want it. I just need you back on this case."

There was another long pause, and I found myself holding my breath again. This was it—my last chance to salvage what remained of my crumbling world.

"Alright," Holbrook said finally, and I nearly collapsed with relief. "But I have conditions, Liam. Non-negotiable conditions."

"Anything," I said quickly. "Whatever you need."

"First, if you create one more scandal—and I mean even the slightest public embarrassment—I’m out permanently. No amount of money will bring me back. Are we clear?"

I nodded frantically, even though he couldn’t see me. "Crystal clear."

"Second, I’m not going to fight against Diane just for the sake of fighting. I’m going to seek fair ground for both of you. That means compromise, Liam. It means you might not get everything you want."

The words stung, but I swallowed my pride. "I understand."

"And third, you cannot make this any more difficult for me than it already is. If you want to save what remains of your reputation and your properties, you’ll follow my lead without question. No more grandstanding, no more dramatic outbursts, no more making my job impossible."

"I promise," I said, meaning it. At least, I thought I meant it.

"Good. I’ll see you in court tomorrow. And Liam?" His voice carried a warning I’d never heard before. "This is your last chance. Don’t waste it."

The line went dead, leaving me alone with a mixture of relief and apprehension. Holbrook was back, but his conditions felt like a straitjacket around my already suffocating situation.

The next morning arrived too quickly, bringing with it the familiar knot of anxiety that had become my constant companion. I stood outside the courthouse, adjusting my tie for the third time as I waited for Holbrook to arrive. The morning air was crisp, but sweat beaded on my forehead despite the cool temperature.

When Holbrook finally appeared, he looked every inch the seasoned attorney—composed, professional, carrying his briefcase with the confidence of a man who’d won more cases than he’d lost. But there was something different in his eyes when he looked at me, a wariness that hadn’t been there before.

"Ready?" he asked curtly.

I nodded, not trusting my voice.

The courtroom was already filling when we entered, and I felt the familiar weight of judgment pressing down on me from every direction. But it was the sight of Diane and Joan sitting at the opposing table that made my chest tighten with a mixture of anger and something I refused to acknowledge as loss.

Diane looked radiant despite everything—her pregnancy had given her a glow that made her more beautiful than ever. She sat with perfect posture, her hands folded over her protruding belly, every inch the picture of dignified motherhood. The sight of her made something twist painfully in my chest.

Judge Thompson was already seated at the bench, his expression unreadable as he reviewed the documents before him.

"All rise," the bailiff announced as we took our seats.

"We’re here today regarding the petition to compel divorce proceedings in the matter of Ashton v. Ashton. I see familiar faces here." "Ms. Hand, please proceed with your opening argument."

Joan rose first, her voice clear and authoritative as she addressed the court. "Your Honor, my client, Diane Ashton, requests this court compel Liam Ashton to sign the divorce papers that have been pending for months and also for the custody of the children. Mr. Ashton has repeatedly delayed and obstructed these proceedings, causing unnecessary emotional and financial hardship to my client."

The words hit me like a physical blow. Sole custody. She wanted to take my children away completely.

Holbrook stood immediately. "Your Honor, my client is willing to negotiate, but—"

Judge Thompson raised his hand, cutting him off with the authority that only comes with years on the bench. "Let’s focus on the divorce and custody. Ms. Joan, please proceed with your argument."

What followed was a masterclass in legal warfare, which ended up being In favor of Diane.

As we walked outside, I found myself thanking Holbrook despite the bitter taste of defeat in my mouth. "Richard, I... thank you for coming back. For agreeing to represent me again."

He stopped walking and turned to face me, his expression serious. "Liam, listen to me very carefully. You need to behave yourself from here on out. Sign those papers. Avoid any sort of drama whatsoever."

I nodded, trying to look receptive to his advice.

"What you should be thinking about," he continued, "is trying to make amends with Diane. Even if you’re going your separate ways, you should do it without any drama. For your own sake, if nothing else."

"I understand," I said, feigning the innocence I’d perfected over the years. Inside, fury was building like pressure in a kettle, but I kept my expression neutral.

Holbrook’s phone began ringing, and he glanced at the display with a frown. "I need to take this," he said, stepping away to answer. "This is Holbrook... What? When did this happen?... I’ll be right there."

He ended the call and turned back to me, his face grave. "I have to go. Emergency at the office. We’ll meet later to discuss next steps, alright?"

"Of course," I said, watching as he hurried away.

That’s when I saw them—Diane and Joan chattering and smiling as they walked out of the courthouse. The sight of Diane’s obvious joy, her hand resting protectively on her swollen belly, sent a wave of rage through me so intense it made my vision blur.

But as I watched them, something shifted in my mind. Raw confrontation hadn’t worked. Threats hadn’t worked. Maybe it was time for a different approach. Something more... strategic.

I took a deep breath, forcing my features into a softer expression. This was my chance—perhaps my only chance—to get close to Diane again. To find out what she knew, what evidence she might have. If I could just get her alone, get her guard down, maybe I could turn this whole situation around.

The rage was still there, burning beneath the surface, but I buried it deep. I had to be convincing. I had to make her believe.

Before I could lose my nerve, I was walking toward them, my expression carefully arranged into something vulnerable and remorseful.

"Diane," I called out softly, my voice carrying just the right note of hesitation.

Both women turned, and I saw the immediate shift in their expressions. Joan’s face hardened into professional wariness, while Diane’s smile faded into something guarded and cold.

"Diane," I said again, keeping my voice gentle. "Can we talk? Just for a moment?"

Joan instinctively stepped closer to Diane, but I held up my hands in a peaceful gesture, making sure I looked as non-threatening as possible.

"I know... I know I’ve been terrible," I continued, letting my voice break slightly as I met Diane’s eyes. "I’ve said things, done things that I’m not proud of. The truth is, I don’t even recognize the man I’ve become these past months."

Perfect. I could see the slight softening in her expression, the way her shoulders relaxed just a fraction. She was listening.

"We loved each other once, Diane," I said, allowing genuine emotion to creep into my voice—not because I felt it, but because I remembered how it should sound. "What we had was real. I know I threw it all away, I know I hurt you in ways I can never take back, but that love... that was genuine. You have to remember that."

I watched her face carefully, noting the way something flickered in her eyes. Good. The memories were still there, still accessible.

"I don’t know what came over me," I continued, running a hand through my hair in what I hoped looked like genuine distress. "The way I’ve been acting, the things I’ve said... it’s like I was trying to convince myself that what we had meant nothing. But it did mean something. It meant everything."

I took a tentative step closer, gauging her reaction. She didn’t back away. Excellent.

"I know you’re angry with me. You have every right to be. But despite everything that’s happened between us, I was good to you once, wasn’t I? There were times when I made you happy?"

I could feel Joan’s disapproval radiating from beside Diane, but I kept my focus on my wife. My soon-to-be ex-wife, who was carrying the children that could either be my salvation or my destruction.

Joan spoke up, her voice sharp with warning. "Don’t listen to him, Diane."

But then something beautiful happened. Something I hadn’t dared to hope for.

"Oh! I would listen to him, after all he’s the father of my children," Diane said, and I had to fight to keep the triumph off my face.

Perfect. Absolutely perfect. She was already defending me, already choosing me over her lawyer’s advice. I allowed a small, grateful smile to play at my lips, making sure she could see how much her words meant to me.

Joan’s face turned to absolute confusion, and I could practically see her wondering what had gotten into Diane. Good. The more confused and isolated Joan felt, the better.

"I want to ask you something, and I know I have no right to ask anything of you anymore," I continued, my voice earnest and pleading. "Could we have dinner together? Just one last time, as... as what we used to be? Not for us, but for them." I gestured gently toward her bump. "For our children. They deserve to know that their parents tried, even at the end, to find some peace between them."

I could feel Joan’s disapproval intensifying, but Diane was wavering. I could see it in the way she was looking at me, as if trying to find traces of the man she’d once loved.

"I’m not asking for forgiveness," I pressed on. "I’m not asking you to take me back. I just... I want to show you that I don’t want to make any more trouble. I want to be a good father to our children, Diane. And maybe, just maybe, we can find a way to co-parent without all this hatred between us."

I looked at her with what I hoped was the same expression that had once made her feel like the only woman in the world. It was all performance now, but she didn’t need to know that.

"You choose the place, you choose the time. Tomorrow, whenever works for you. I just want one conversation where we’re not screaming at each other or speaking through lawyers."

Before Diane could respond, Joan stepped forward firmly, and I had to resist the urge to snap at her for interfering.

"Diane, as your lawyer, I strongly advise you not to honor that invitation."

Diane looked at her friend with genuine consideration. "As a friend, what would you advise?"

"I’d still ask you not to go," Joan said without hesitation.

I held my breath, watching as Diane processed this advice. When she turned back to me, I made sure my expression remained hopeful but resigned, as if I was prepared for rejection but still daring to hope.

"I’ll... I’ll think about it," she said finally.

Victory. Sweet, intoxicating victory flooded through me, but I kept my expression carefully neutral. She was considering it. She was actually considering it. All my careful words, my perfectly calculated vulnerability—it was working.

Joan’s head whipped toward Diane in obvious shock. "Are you really going to think about going? After everything he’s put you through?"

That was when my carefully maintained facade cracked slightly. Joan was going to ruin everything with her protective interference. The irritation that flashed across my features was genuine.

"Joan, back off," I said, letting some of my real frustration bleed through. "I’m not speaking to you. I’m talking to my wife."

"Soon-to-be ex-wife," Joan shot back with fire in her voice. "And you need to stay away from Diane. Just sign the divorce papers."

"Don’t you ever talk to my friend like that again," Diane said, her voice carrying a warning that made my heart sing with triumph. "Ever. And yes, you will sign those papers."

She was defending Joan, yes, but she was also establishing boundaries—protecting both sides. She was already thinking like someone who wanted to keep the peace, someone who was considering my offer seriously.

I raised my hands in surrender, letting that familiar charming smile play at the corners of my mouth. "Of course, of course. I’ll sign them. Just... think about dinner, okay? I’ll be waiting."

I shot her a wink—the same kind of wink that used to make her laugh, that used to be part of our private language. I could see the momentary confusion in her eyes, the way the familiar gesture caught her off guard.

She was wavering. She was actually wavering. All my careful performance, my strategic vulnerability—it was all paying off. I could practically feel her defenses crumbling, her desire to believe in redemption overriding her rational mind.

But Joan was still there, still watching, still suspicious. I needed to end this before she could say something that might snap Diane out of the spell I was weaving.

I turned to Joan, and flipped her off before walking away.

Let her think I was just being petty. Let her underestimate me. The important thing was that Diane was considering my offer. One dinner. One chance to get close to her, to find out what she knew, what evidence she might have hidden away.