Hell Hath no fury like a billionaire's Ex-Chapter 115: Strategic Moves

Diane’s POV

The drive back from the house felt like a dream I didn’t want to wake from. Every time I closed my eyes, I could still see Noah’s hands as he assembled the toddler beds, the way his shirt had stretched across his shoulders as he reached for the wall decals. The memory of our kiss on the doorstep made my lips tingle all over again, and I found myself touching them absently as we pulled into Joan’s driveway.

"Thank you," I whispered as Noah helped me out of the car, his hand lingering on mine just a moment longer than necessary.

"For what?" he asked, those dark eyes searching mine.

"For making today perfect. For making me feel like I’m not doing this alone anymore."

His smile was soft, devastating. "You’re never alone, Diane. Not as long as I’m breathing."

After Noah left for his hotel to prepare for his rescheduled business trip, I found myself alone in Joan’s living room, still buzzing with the emotions of the day. The nursery we’d created together felt like a glimpse of the life we were building together. But first, there were calls to make, plans to set in motion.

I settled onto the couch with my phone, suddenly eager to share this moment with my father. He’d given me so much more than just a house—he’d given me hope and strength to move forward.

"Dad?" I said when he answered on the second ring.

"Diane, sweetheart. How did it go? Did you see the house?"

"Dad, it’s absolutely beautiful," I gushed, feeling like a child again sharing exciting news. "I can’t believe you did all this for me. The nursery is perfect—I added some personal touches. Pink and blue bedding, some artwork—it already feels like home."

Dad’s chuckle was warm through the phone. "I’m so glad you love it. And whatever changes you want to make, you go right ahead. After all, the place belongs to you now, sweetheart. It’s yours to do with as you please."

The words hit me unexpectedly hard. After months of feeling like I was losing everything—my marriage, my home, my security—having something that was completely, undeniably mine felt revolutionary.

"Dad," I said, my voice growing more serious. "I need to ask you for another favor. A big one."

"Anything, Diane. You know that."

I took a deep breath, steeling myself for what I was about to request. "I need your help with some connections. Legal connections. I want to freeze Liam’s offshore accounts immediately after our court hearing—the one where he’ll be compelled to sign the divorce papers. Joan is brilliant, but she’ll need someone with international reach to make this happen quickly."

Dad was quiet for a moment, and I could practically hear his business mind working. "How serious are we talking, sweetheart?"

"Embezzlement. Tax evasion. The kind of serious that could put him in prison."

"I have everything. Account numbers, transfer records, documentation showing he’s been siphoning money from our personal accounts. Dad, it’s substantial. We’re talking about millions that he’s hidden away."

"Jesus Christ, that bastard" Dad breathed.

"Dad, he’s been stealing from Synergy Sphere, from our joint accounts."

"That’s not an issue to debate when it comes to Liam. "I’ll connect Joan with Henry Reynolds. He handles international financial litigation for some of my biggest clients. Between him and Joan, they’ll be able to move fast once you give them the green light."

Relief flooded through me. "Thank you, Dad. I don’t know what I’d do without you."

"You don’t have to find out," he said simply. "Now, what else is on your mind? I can hear it in your voice."

I smiled, amazed by how well he knows me now. "I’d like to bring Noah over for dinner. To properly meet the family—you, Mom, and Sophie. When he gets back from his business trip."

Another pause, shorter this time. "Sophie too?"

"Yes," I said, surprised by my own certainty. "Whatever happened between us, she’s still family and I’ve forgiven her. And Noah needs to understand the whole picture if he’s going to be part of my life."

"Then he’s welcome," Dad said warmly. "I’ll let your mother know, and Sophie. It’ll be good to have everyone together again. Noah sounds like a good man."

"He is," I said softly, thinking of the way Noah looked at me like I’m the only woman in his world, the kiss. "He really is."

As we hung up, I heard the front door open. Joan’s voice carried through the house, talking rapidly on her phone. When she appeared in the living room, I could see the tension in her shoulders, the way her usually perfect composure was slightly frayed around the edges.

"It’s been quite a day," she said, looking tired from today’s work as she walked into the living room.

"Actually," I said, standing up as she settled behind me, "I forgot to mention that Liam called me earlier."

Joan spun around, her lawyer instincts immediately alert. "What did he say?"

I sank into the nearest chair. "He was... angry. Demanding to know why I would take him to court, asking why I was acting like someone sent to ruin him. He sounded desperate."

Joan’s expression darkened. "Diane, you cannot engage with him directly anymore from now on."

"I know," I said quietly. "That’s what Noah said too. But Joan, this is just the beginning for Liam, isn’t it? Things are going to get much worse for him."

A small, predatory smile played at Joan’s lips. "Oh, sweetheart. This is absolutely just the beginning."

I leaned forward, my mind racing with possibilities. "I need to ask you something important. The mansion where Liam and I lived—the deed is in his name, but it was purchased with marital assets. Since he locked me out of my own home before, is there any way I can return the favor?"

Joan’s eyebrows shot up, clearly impressed by my strategic thinking. "Actually, yes. Since the property was acquired during marriage with marital funds, you have what’s called ’marital interest’ in the property.

We can file for a temporary restraining order and exclusive use of the marital residence. Given his history of how he’s been violence towards you and the fact that he’s already locked you out once, a judge would likely grant it."

My heart raced with the possibility. "You mean I could have him legally removed from the house?"

"Yes of course," Joan continued, her professional excitement growing, "but we can also request that the court order him to maintain all household expenses— utilities, while being prohibited from accessing the property. It’s poetic justice, really."

"I want that done immediately after our court appearance," I said firmly. "I want him to feel exactly what he put me through, to have a taste of his own medicine."

"Consider it done," Joan said, pulling out her phone to make a note. "What else?"

I took a deep breath, feeling the pieces of my plan clicking into place. "I spoke to my father. He’s going to connect you with Henry Reynolds—a forensic financial attorney. Dad says he’s one of the best."

Joan’s eyes lit up with professional excitement. "Henry Reynolds? Diane, your father doesn’t mess around. Reynolds is legendary. With him on our team..."

"Can we use the information in those documents to initiate legal action to freeze Liam’s offshore accounts?" I asked, leaning forward. "I want to file a lawsuit, get a restraining order or temporary injunction, and then seek enforcement in these countries where he’s hidden the money."

Joan was already nodding, her mind clearly racing through the legal possibilities. "With the documentation you have, showing the systematic transfer of funds from your personal accounts to these offshore accounts, we have grounds for asset recovery and fraud claims. If we can prove a pattern and practice of financial abuse..."

"How quickly can we move?"

"With Reynolds’ connections and the evidence you’ve provided? We could have preliminary injunctions filed within forty-eight hours of your court appearance.

And Diane," Joan’s smile turned razor-sharp, "once those accounts are frozen, Liam won’t have access to the funds. His attorney, his domestic staff, his security detail—all of that costs money he suddenly won’t have."

The strategic brilliance of it made my pulse quicken. Cut off his resources, and Liam would be fighting this battle with one hand tied behind his back.

I stood up slowly, moving closer to Joan until I could whisper in her ear. The plan that had been forming in my mind all day suddenly crystallized into something concrete, something devastating.

I spoke quietly, outlining exactly what I intended to do to Liam, how I planned to systematically strip away everything he valued until he understood the depth of pain he’d caused me.

When I finished, Joan pulled back to look at me, her expression a mixture of admiration and slight concern. "Diane, that’s... thorough."

"Is it legal?"

"Completely. Ruthless, but completely legal." She paused. "Are you sure you want to do this?"

I thought of the recording Sophie had made, Liam’s slurred voice admitting he’d tried to kill me. I thought of the months of gaslighting, the affairs, the way he’d tried to paint me as unstable and unfit. I thought of my babies, who deserved better than a father who would try to murder their mother.

"I’m sure," I said quietly. "I want him to understand exactly what it feels like to lose everything you’ve worked for."

Joan nodded slowly. "Then we’ll make it happen. All of it."

I walked toward the kitchen, my mind churning with plans and possibilities. As I opened the refrigerator, looking for something to prepare for dinner, I found myself muttering under my breath.

"I’m going to make sure he feels every bit of pain he’s caused me," I said quietly, pulling out ingredients for a simple pasta dish. "Once I have control of the house, I’ll lay off all his household staff—with generous severance packages, of course, get any information I can from them. They deserve better than working for a man who treats people like disposable objects."

The more I thought about it, the more the plan crystallized. Liam had built his life on the assumption that he could take whatever he wanted without consequences. His wife, his sister-in-law, other people’s hard work, money that belonged to both of us—he’d treated it all as his personal property to use and discard as he pleased.

"I’m going to strip him of everything," I continued, my voice growing harder. "The house, the money, the staff, the respect—everything he thinks makes him powerful. He needs to learn that actions have consequences, that you can’t just take from people and expect them to stay silent forever."

I started water boiling for pasta, the simple domestic task grounding me even as my mind worked through the complexities of what we were planning. This wasn’t just about revenge, though I’d be lying if I said that wasn’t part of it. This was about justice. About making sure that the man who had tried to destroy me would face the full consequences of his choices.

From the living room, I could hear Joan on the phone, her voice crisp and professional as she began reaching out to her network of contacts. The sound was reassuring—the sound of someone who knew how to win building the framework for victory.

The water came to a boil, and I added the pasta, watching it swirl in the churning water. By the time it was ready, Joan and I had dinner as we talked about how I’d be one step closer to reclaiming everything that was mine. I wasn’t just going to win.

I was going to annihilate him.

Because some battles were worth fighting, and some enemies deserved everything they got.

This was both.

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