Liam’s POV
The silence in the boardroom was deafening.
I sat there, staring at the mahogany table that had once been my throne, now feeling like my execution block. The weight of what had just happened pressed down on like a physical force. CEO of Synergy Sphere. Gone. Just like that. Years of building, clawing, fighting my way to the top—erased in a single unanimous vote.
The irony wasn’t lost on . The sa day they stripped of everything I’d worked for was the sa day my children were coming into this world.
I tried to process it all, but my mind felt fractured, pieces of reality scattered like broken glass. Andrew Evans—Diane’s father. The man whose life I’d destroyed years ago, now returning the favor with surgical precision. And Natasha... God, Natasha. Guerrero’s daughter. How had I been so blind?
The sound of knocking on the boardroom door jolted back to the present. Anthony’s concerned face appeared in the doorway, his massive fra filling the entrance.
"Sir? Are you alright in there?"
I looked around the empty room, realizing everyone had left sitting here like so pathetic remnant of my forr self. Even in my destruction, I was alone.
"I’m fine," I lied, my voice hoarse. I stood slowly, my legs feeling unsteady beneath . "Let’s go."
Anthony walked beside as we made our way to the parking garage, his presence both protective and sohow comforting. Thomas was already waiting by the car, his weathered face creased with concern as he took in my appearance.
"Where to, sir?" Thomas asked, opening the door for .
"morial Hospital," I said without hesitation. "Diane’s hospital."
Thomas nodded, understanding imdiately. As we pulled out of the parking garage, I caught him glancing at in the rearview mirror. I turned my face toward the window, hoping he couldn’t see the tears that had started falling.
For the first ti since this whole nightmare began, I wasn’t thinking about my company, my reputation, or my wounded pride. All I could think about was Diane, sowhere in that hospital, bringing our children into the world. And I wasn’t there. I couldn’t be there. The vampires inside would tear apart if I dared show my face.
The tears ca harder now, silent and relentless. I pressed my forehead against the cool glass of the window, watching the city blur past through my tears. Thomas kept stealing glances at , and I could see the pity in his eyes. Even my driver felt sorry for now.
"Sir," Thomas said softly as we approached the hospital, "perhaps you should—"
"Just park across the street," I interrupted, my voice barely above a whisper. "I can’t go in, but I need to... I need to be close."
Thomas found a spot directly across from the hospital entrance. I stared at the building, knowing Diane was in there sowhere, going through the most important mont of her life without . The father of her children, sitting in a car like so kind of stalker, too proud and too stupid to have prevented this ss in the first place.
"Sir," Anthony said from the front seat, "you haven’t eaten anything since this morning. Would you like to get you sothing?"
I shook my head. Food was the last thing on my mind. My stomach was twisted in knots of anxiety and regret.
That’s when I saw them.
Sophie and Helena walked toward the hospital entrance, hand in hand, moving with the urgency of people who had just received important news. Sophie carried a large bag, obviously filled with things for Diane and the babies, while Helena held balloons and flowers.
My blood turned to ice.
Sophie looked... happy. Healthy. Glowing, even. Not at all like soone who had supposedly been traumatized by our encounter. She was laughing at sothing her mother said, her face bright with excitent about becoming an aunt.
The rage that flooded through was instant and overwhelming. I reached for the door handle, ready to storm out and confront her, to demand answers, to shake her until she admitted her lies—
"Sir, no." Thomas’s voice was sharp, authoritative in a way I’d never heard before. His eyes t mine in the rearview mirror, and there was steel there. "You’re expecting your children today. Even though you can’t go inside to share this mont with your wife because of the issues between you two, please don’t do anything to jeopardize today."
Sothing in his tone, the way he called them my children, made sink back into the seat. Thomas had been with for years. He’d seen at my best and my worst, and through all the chaos of the divorce, he’d been the only one brave enough to tell the truth, even when it hit wrong nerves.
I watched Sophie and Helena disappear into the hospital, carrying their gifts and their joy, going to support Diane in a way I never could again. The irony was suffocating.
We sat there for nearly two hours. Two hours of torture, watching people co and go from the hospital with no way of knowing what was happening inside. No way of knowing if Diane was okay, if the babies were okay, if I was missing the most important mont of my life.
That’s when the plan ford.
"Thomas," I said suddenly, "is there a shop nearby? Sowhere I can buy... different clothes?"
Thomas frowned at in the mirror. "Sir?"
"I need a disguise. Sothing that will let get inside without being recognized."
Anthony turned around, his expression skeptical. "Mr. Ashton, that might not be the best—"
"Just do it," I snapped, then imdiately felt bad for taking my frustration out on them. "Please. I need to see her. I need to know they’re okay."
Thomas sighed but started the car. We found a discount clothing store a few blocks away, and I grabbed the most ridiculous outfit I could find: oversized jeans that pooled around my ankles, a garish Hawaiian shirt, a baseball cap, and sunglasses that scread "tourist."
When I erged from the changing room, both Thomas and Anthony tried to stifle their laughter. Anthony actually snorted, while Thomas covered his mouth with his hand.
"Don’t say a word," I warned, but even I could see my reflection in the store mirror. I looked absolutely ridiculous. The price you pay for being a wayward and strongheaded husband, I thought bitterly. A condescending narcissist who destroyed his own life.
Back at the hospital, I took a deep breath and walked through the entrance, my heart pounding. The disguise was so absurd that it actually worked—I walked right past Andrew, Noah, and several other people I recognized without anyone giving a second glance.
I positioned myself near a vending machine where I could eavesdrop on their conversation.
"—Doctor Chen ca in about an hour ago," Noah was saying, his voice tight with concern. "She said the babies haven’t arrived yet. Diane’s still in the delivery room."
"How long has it been now?" Andrew asked, pacing back and forth like a caged animal.
"Almost 3 hours," soone else replied. "These things take ti, especially with twins."
Three hours. My wife had been in labor for three hours, and here am I, dressed like a circus perforr, hiding behind a vending machine.
I made my way toward the maternity ward, my ridiculous outfit helping blend into the background. When I found the right room, I pressed myself against the wall next to the window and carefully peered inside.
The sight that greeted stopped my heart.
Diane was on the hospital bed, her face flushed with effort and pain, her hair damp with sweat. She was in the middle of a contraction, her face twisted in agony, her hands gripping the bed rails so tightly her knuckles were white.
And I started sobbing.
Right there in the hallway, dressed like a deranged tourist, I broke down completely. This was my wife. The woman I had promised to love and protect, going through the most difficult and dangerous thing a woman could experience, and I wasn’t there to hold her hand. I wasn’t there to tell her she was strong, that everything would be okay, that I loved her and our children more than my own life.
I had thrown it all away. For what? For affairs that ant nothing? For a company that had just discarded like yesterday’s garbage? For pride that had cost everything that actually mattered?
Through my tears, I watched as Diane turned her head toward the window. For a terrifying mont, I thought she might see , might recognize despite my ridiculous disguise. But her eyes were unfocused, lost in her own world of pain and effort.
I couldn’t stay. I couldn’t risk being discovered, couldn’t risk causing a scene on the day my children were being born. So I turned and walked away, tears streaming down my face, past the confused nurses who probably thought the weird tourist was having so kind of breakdown.
"Take ho," I told Thomas when I reached the car, my voice thick with emotion.
The drive back to the mansion was silent except for the sound of my occasional sniffles. As we pulled into the driveway, my phone started buzzing incessantly with notifications.
The first headline made my stomach drop: "BREAKING NEWS: Liam Ashton Removed as CEO of Synergy Sphere."
The second one twisted the knife: "Diane Ashton in Labor with Twins as Ex-Husband Faces Professional Downfall."
And the third one felt like a nail in my coffin: "What’s Next for Disgraced CEO Liam Ashton?"
I stared at my phone screen, watching notification after notification pop up. News outlets, social dia ntions, texts from people I barely knew offering hollow condolences or thinly veiled schadenfreude.
The man who had just monts ago been softened by the sight of his wife in labor, who had felt genuine remorse and love, hardened again into fury. Here was proof that my problems never ended. The one ti in my life I had decided to put aside my anger and just be happy for my children being born, and the world wouldn’t even allow that.
They wouldn’t let rest. They wouldn’t let grieve. They wouldn’t let be human for even one day.
I punched the driver seat so hard out of frustration. Thomas flinched but said nothing.
"Sir," Anthony said carefully, "perhaps you should—"
"Get out," I said quietly.
"Sir?"
"Both of you. Get out of the car. I need to be alone."
They exchanged glances but complied, leaving sitting in the backseat of my own car, still wearing my ridiculous disguise, crying and raging and falling apart all at once.
Sowhere across town, my children were being born. My company was being taken apart. My life was being dissected by strangers on the internet.
And I was alone.
Completely, utterly alone.
The price of everything, I realized, was everything.
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