Hell Hath no fury like a billionaire's Ex

Chapter 135: Shattered

Diane’s POV

The courthouse steps felt endless as we descended, each step echoing the finality of what had just transpired.

Three years. Liam would be behind bars for three years, and Dylan and Danielle were finally, legally, completely mine. I should have felt victorious, but all I could manage was a hollow numbness that seemed to spread through my chest like ice water.

Dad appeared at my elbow as we reached the bottom of the steps, his face etched with concern. "Sweetheart, how are you holding up?"

I tried to smile, but my face felt frozen. "I’m fine, Dad. Just... processing everything."

"You don’t look fine," he said gently, studying my face with the intensity of someone who’d spent years learning to read people’s pain.

"None of this was easy. Seeing him like that..."

He didn’t need to finish. We both knew what he meant. Watching Liam crumble in that courtroom, seeing the complete destruction of someone I’d once loved, had carved something hollow inside me that victory couldn’t fill.

Noah’s arm tightened around my waist, his own struggle evident in the tension of his muscles. I could feel him fighting his own emotions, torn between relief for me and the children, and grief for his best friend’s spectacular fall from grace. He hadn’t said much since we left the courtroom, but I could see the war playing out behind his eyes.

"I’m going to follow you home," Dad announced, his tone brooking no argument. "I want to make sure you’re settled before I leave you alone with all this."

Joan appeared beside us, her professional mask slipping to reveal genuine exhaustion. "Henry had to leave for an emergency meeting, but I’m coming with you too. You shouldn’t be alone right now."

I nodded, grateful for their presence even though all I really wanted was to hold my babies and pretend the rest of the world didn’t exist. The thought of Dylan and Danielle waiting for me at home was the only thing keeping me upright.

The drive home passed in a blur of city streets and muted conversation. Joan sat beside me in the backseat, while Noah sat in the passengers seat, as the security detail drove us home. Through the rearview mirror, I could see Dad’s car following close behind, his security detail maintaining their professional distance.

"You did the right thing," Joan said quietly, her hand finding mine. "I know it doesn’t feel like victory right now, but you protected your children. That’s all that matters."

I stared out the window, watching familiar neighborhoods pass by. "He looked so broken, Joan. When he asked me to bring the children to see him someday... God, the pain in his eyes."

"That’s the Liam you fell in love with talking," Noah said suddenly, his voice thick with emotion he was trying to suppress. "The man underneath all the damage. But Diane, you can’t save him. You never could."

I could hear the weight of his own guilt in those words. Noah had watched his best friend destroy himself, had tried to help, had ultimately had to choose between loyalty and what was right. The choice had cost him too.

My phone buzzed with notifications—probably more breaking news that had apparently gone viral while we were in court. I ignored it, too emotionally drained to deal with the outside world’s opinions about my private hell.

As we turned into my neighborhood, I felt some of the tension in my shoulders begin to ease. Almost home. Almost back to my sanctuary where I could hold my children and remember why I’d fought so hard for this moment.

The automatic gate began to slide open as our car approached, the familiar mechanical hum usually a comforting sound. But as we pulled into the driveway, something felt wrong. A chill ran down my spine that had nothing to do with the air conditioning.

"Joan," I said, my voice sharp with sudden alarm. "Where’s Peter—The security detail?"

Joan followed my gaze to the gate. It was empty.

"He’s always there when the gate opens," I continued, my heart beginning to race. "Always. He waves at us, checks the car, makes sure everything’s secure before we even get out."

Noah had noticed too, his body going rigid as he parked the car.

"Maybe he’s doing a perimeter check?" The other security detail driving us interrupted.

But even as he said it, we all knew that wasn’t protocol. The security detail never left his post unattended, especially not when we were arriving home.

That’s when I heard it—a thin, desperate wailing that made every maternal instinct I possessed scream in terror.

"Oh God," I whispered, my blood turning to ice. "That’s Dylan crying."

The sound was muffled by the car windows, but unmistakable. My baby was in distress, had been crying for who knew how long, and the raw desperation in that tiny voice made my chest constrict with panic.

I didn’t wait for the car to fully stop. I was out of my seat, fumbling with the door handle, my hands shaking so badly I could barely manage the simple task. The moment I opened the door, the crying hit me like a physical blow—not just Dylan, but both babies, their voices hoarse and weak as if they’d been screaming for a very long time.

"Mom!" I shouted, kicking off my heels so I could run faster. "Sophie! What’s happening?"

The silence that greeted me was more terrifying than any scream could have been.

I ran toward the house, my bare feet slapping against the concrete driveway, Joan’s footsteps echoing behind me. Dad’s car had just pulled in, and I could hear car doors slamming as everyone realized something was catastrophically wrong.

"Helena!" Dad’s voice boomed across the yard. "Sophie!"

Still nothing but the endless crying of my babies and the terrible, terrible silence from everyone else. noveldrama

I reached the front entrance and stopped so abruptly that Joan nearly collided with me. The door was slightly ajar, which was wrong—Mom never left doors unlocked, let alone open—but that wasn’t what froze me in place.

It was the dark, wet trail that led from the doorway into the house. A trail that could only be one thing.

Blood.

"No," I whispered, the word barely audible over the roaring in my ears. "No, no, no, no..."

The trail was thick, as if someone had been dragged through their own blood, leaving a horrific path across the white marble of my entryway. My legs nearly gave out as the implications hit me like a sledgehammer to the chest.

Joan appeared beside me, her face white as paper. "What is going on here?" she whispered, her voice trembling.

I forced myself to look toward the corner by the door, following the blood trail with my eyes. What I saw there made the world tilt on its axis.

Peter.

My security guard lay crumpled against the wall, his eyes wide and staring at nothing. A pool of dark blood had spread beneath him, staining his uniform and the wall behind him. The professional, competent man who’d promised to keep my family safe was dead, murdered in my house while we’d been celebrating our victory in court.

"Oh God," Joan breathed, her hand flying to her mouth. "Oh my God, Diane..."

I couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t think. Could only hear my babies crying somewhere inside the house and know that something unspeakable had happened here while I was gone.

"Mom!" I screamed, shoving through the door, no longer caring about evidence or safety or anything except getting to my children. "Sophie! Where are you?"

The house felt wrong—too quiet except for the crying, too cold, as if death itself had settled into every corner. I could hear footsteps behind me, Dad and Noah and Joan all following, but their voices sounded muffled and distant.

I took the stairs two at a time, my heart hammering so hard I thought it might burst. The crying was louder up here, coming from the nursery, and I could hear Danielle’s voice getting weaker, as if she was exhausting herself.

"I’m coming, babies," I sobbed, stumbling down the hallway. "Mommy’s coming."

But there was more blood here. Drops and smears on the walls, on the carpet, leading toward the nursery door like a trail of breadcrumbs in a nightmare fairy tale.

I reached for the door handle and tried to turn it, but something was blocking it from the other side. The door would only open a few inches before hitting some obstacle.

"Help me!" I cried out, throwing my shoulder against the door. "Something’s blocking it!"

Noah appeared beside me, his face grim as he added his weight to mine. Together we managed to force the door open wide enough to squeeze through, and I immediately stumbled as my feet hit something wet and slippery.

More blood. So much blood.

I looked frantically around the room, my eyes going immediately to the bassinets. Dylan was there, still crying, his little face red and exhausted. The yellow teddy bear was tucked beside him, somehow still bright and cheerful in this horror show.

I scooped him up, his tiny body trembling with the force of his cries, and looked toward Danielle’s bassinet. It was empty.