Hell Hath no fury like a billionaire's Ex
Chapter 119: The Last Supper

Chapter 119: The Last Supper

Diane’s POV

The drive to Connect Bistro was quiet, my security detail maintaining their professional vigilance while I mentally prepared for the performance ahead. As we pulled into the restaurant’s parking lot, I could see Liam’s familiar BMW already there, parked in a spot that gave him a clear view of the entrance.

"It is time," I murmured to myself, checking my phone to make sure it was set to record. Whatever Liam had to say tonight, I wanted documentation of it.

The restaurant was dimly lit and sparsely populated—perfect for a private conversation. I scanned the interior until I spotted Liam sitting at a corner table, positioned so he could see the entire restaurant.

He was wearing a dark suit and had clearly made an effort with his appearance, though I could see the tension in his shoulders even from across the room.

As I approached with my security detail flanking me, Liam rose from his seat with what looked like genuine nervousness. One of my guards pulled out my chair, and as I settled into it, the security team positioned themselves at nearby tables where they could watch without being intrusive.

I waved them back slightly, giving Liam some breathing room. I wanted him to feel comfortable enough to reveal his true intentions.

"I see you’re traveling with security now," Liam said with a soft smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

"You never know what can happen these days," I replied evenly.

His smile faltered slightly. "Am I really that bad, Diane? I would never put you in any form of danger."

I met his eyes directly. "But you sent someone to shadow me, isn’t that right, Liam?"

The color drained from his face, and for a moment he looked genuinely stricken. "Diane, I... I’m sorry about that. I was just worried about you, about the babies..."

"Were you?" I asked, my voice carefully neutral.

What followed was perhaps the most pathetic performance I had ever witnessed. Liam began talking about our past, trying to remind me of good times we’d shared. But his words came out fumbled and uncertain, as if he was grasping for memories that didn’t exist or had been so overshadowed by his betrayals that even he couldn’t access them clearly.

"Remember how I used to kiss you when you were reading your magazine on Sunday afternoons?" he said, his voice shaking slightly. "And how we used to do dishes together, and those vacations we took..."

But he couldn’t elaborate on any of these supposed memories. His hands trembled as he spoke, and I could see the sweat beading on his forehead despite the cool restaurant. He was clearly forcing himself through this conversation, struggling to maintain his facade of remorse.

It was disgusting to watch. This wasn’t genuine emotion—this was manipulation, pure and simple. He was using our unborn children as leverage, trying to guilt me into softening toward him.

But I wasn’t the naive, easily trampled woman he had married. I was someone new, someone harder and infinitely more dangerous.

The food he had ordered arrived, and I watched with satisfaction as he ate while I barely touched my plate. I didn’t trust him not to have tampered with my meal somehow.

"You’re not eating," he observed, pausing with his fork halfway to his mouth.

"I’m not very hungry," I said simply.

"I wouldn’t hurt you, Diane. Not like at the farmer’s market..."

He grinned as he said it, and I felt a chill run down my spine. "You didn’t want to then either, did you?" I asked quietly.

His grin widened, confirming what I had suspected. Even his supposed moment of conscience had been calculated.

My phone rang, interrupting the tense moment. Noah’s name appeared on the screen, and I answered it gratefully.

"Are you still at the restaurant?" he asked without preamble.

"Yes," I said, watching Liam’s face carefully.

"Just checking on you. Take care of yourself."

"I will," I promised, hanging up.

Liam was watching me with an unreadable expression. "Noah seems very... attentive," he said carefully.

Before I could respond, he suddenly reached across the table and grabbed my hand, his fingers closing around mine with surprising strength. His entire demeanor changed in an instant—the fumbling, uncertain man of moments before was replaced by someone more desperate, more intense.

"Diane, please," he said urgently. "I know I’ve made mistakes, terrible mistakes, but we can fix this. Think about our children, about the family we could be—"

I was so startled by his sudden change in behavior that I didn’t immediately pull away. Something was wrong—this felt different from his earlier performance, more genuine in its desperation but also more frightening.

I was trying to process what was happening when I felt a familiar hand on my shoulder. I turned to see Noah standing behind me, his face a mask of barely controlled anger.

"Surprise," he said quietly, but there was nothing pleasant in his tone.

He pulled out the chair next to me and sat down, his eyes never leaving Liam’s face. The temperature in the restaurant seemed to drop ten degrees as the two men stared at each other.

"What are you doing here?" Liam demanded, finally releasing my hand.

"Making sure my girlfriend is safe," Noah replied evenly, but I could see the muscle in his jaw twitching.

"Your girlfriend?" Liam’s voice rose slightly. "She’s still my wife."

"Not for much longer," Noah said with a cold smile.

The tension between them was suffocating. I could see other diners beginning to notice slightly, and I knew this was about to escalate beyond my control.

Noah suddenly stood up, his chair scraping against the floor. "Excuse me," he said tightly. "I need to use the restroom."

He walked away with measured steps, but I could see the fury radiating from every line of his body. A moment later, Liam excused himself as well, following Noah toward the back of the restaurant.

This was my moment.

With Liam gone, I quickly reached into my bag and pulled out the vial of laxative. My heart was pounding as I unscrewed the cap and poured half the contents into Liam’s water glass, swirling it gently to mix it in. For good measure, I added some to my own glass as well—if Liam was paranoid enough to switch our drinks, I wanted to be prepared.

I capped the vial and slipped it back into my bag, then sat back in my chair and arranged my face into an expression of weary pregnancy fatigue. To any observer, I would look like a tired, expectant mother waiting for her dinner companions to return.

Minutes passed, and neither man reappeared. My worry began to grow. What were they doing back there? I was just about to get up and investigate when Noah finally returned to the table.

My heart clenched at the sight of him. His hair was disheveled, his face was flushed red, and his tie had been hastily readjusted. There was something wild in his eyes that I had never seen before.

"Noah, what happened?" I asked urgently, reaching for his hand.

Before he could answer, Liam appeared, sliding back into his seat with a smile that didn’t match the slight swelling I could see around his jaw. His clothes were rumpled, and there was a small cut on his lip that he kept touching with his tongue.

"Baby, please can we leave now?" Noah said without taking his eyes off Liam.

"Yes," I said immediately, starting to stand.

I saw the security details walking closer to interfere, but I held up a hand, waving them off and rose from my chair, Liam suddenly grabbed my hand again, this time in full view of Noah. "Diane, please don’t go," he said loudly enough for several other tables to hear. "I truly love you, and I want to spend time with the mother of my children."

I could see Noah’s face darkening with rage, and I knew Liam was deliberately provoking him.

"It’s been one hell of a day," Noah said through gritted teeth, standing up abruptly. "I think I’m done here."

He turned to leave, and panic shot through me. "Noah, please wait!" I called after him, trying to pull my hand free from Liam’s grip. "I’m coming with you!"

But Liam’s hold on my hand was surprisingly strong, and by the time I managed to wrench free, Noah had already stormed out of the restaurant. He hadn’t seen my struggle to get away from Liam—all he had seen was me sitting there while my ex-husband declared his love for me.

I stood up, my chest tight with frustration and anger. Looking down at Liam, I let all of my disgust show on my face.

"You will never change," I said coldly. "And for your information, I am dating Noah now. I’m going to make sure he takes your place in the lives of our children."

Liam’s face went white.

"I thought you wanted to say something reasonable tonight," I continued, my voice rising. "But you can’t change, can you? You’re still the same manipulative, selfish bastard you always were."

With that, I leaned forward, picked up my glass of water and emptied it in his face.

Liam fell back in his chair as if I had physically struck him. The combination of shock, hurt, and fury that crossed his features was deeply satisfying. In his frustration and the emotional devastation of my words, he reached for his water glass and drained it in one long gulp.

Perfect.

I turned and walked toward the exit, my pregnancy making my steps slower than I would have liked. My security detail immediately flanked me, but I waved them off again my fury radiating.

"I can walk myself," I said tersely.

They followed at a respectful distance as we made our way outside. I could see tire tracks where Noah’s car had been parked, and my heart sank. He was already gone, and I had no idea how angry he was or what he might be thinking.

"Ma’am, should we follow Mr. Hemsworth?" one of my security asked.

"Yes," I said, climbing into the back seat of my car. "Quickly."

As we pulled out of the parking lot, I tried calling Noah’s phone, but it went straight to voicemail.

My worry was growing by the minute. The confrontation in the restaurant, whatever had happened between him and Liam in the restroom, and then seeing Liam grab my hand at the end—Noah had to be feeling betrayed and confused.

I needed to find him and explain what had really happened. I needed to tell him that every word I had spoken to Liam had been calculated, that I had chosen to splash water in my ex-husband’s face rather than give him any encouragement.

The city lights blurred past the window as we drove through the night, searching for any sign of Noah’s car. My hands rested protectively over my belly, where the twins seemed to sense my distress and were moving restlessly.

"Everything’s going to be okay," I whispered to them. "Mommy just needs to find Noah and fix this mess."

But as we turned onto the main highway leading back toward the city center, I saw something that made my blood run cold.

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