Diane’s POV
The morning sun stread through the gauzy curtains of Joan’s guest room, bathing everything in a warm, golden light. I unrolled my yoga mat by the window, savoring the sensation of the light breeze against my skin. This would be my first proper yoga session in weeks, and my body craved the familiar routine.
As I moved through the first few poses, I found myself smiling. The twins had been unusually quiet this morning, as if they too were enjoying the peaceful mont. My hand instinctively moved to my rounded belly, feeling the firm curve that housed my children. My children. The thought still filled with wonder and a fierce protectiveness that sotis took my breath away.
I was halfway through a modified sun salutation when I noticed my mother watching from the doorway, a fond smile on her face.
"Mind if I join you?" she asked, already barefoot and dressed in comfortable clothes.
"Not at all," I replied, surprised but pleased. My mother had never shown much interest in yoga while growing up. "Though I’m taking it pretty easy these days."
She chuckled, unrolling a borrowed mat beside mine. "That’s fine by . I’m not exactly flexible at my age."
"Here," I said, noticing she hadn’t brought water. "You’ll need this."
She waved off. "I brought so for you, actually. You didn’t have a bottle with you."
My mother handed a water bottle, and I felt a surge of gratitude for her thoughtfulness. It was these small gestures that reminded how much I’d missed her presence in my life.
We moved through the poses together, my mother following my lead with more grace than I’d expected. The shared activity created a comfortable silence between us, a rare mont of perfect harmony.
"How are you feeling today?" she asked as we finished our final stretches. "Any more of those Braxton Hicks contractions?"
I shook my head, taking a long sip of water. "Not since yesterday afternoon. I think these two are being kind to their mama for once."
"They’re saving their energy," my mother said wisely. "You’ll need all the rest you can get now, because once they arrive..." She trailed off, but her knowing smile said everything.
We chatted easily about the babies, about the nursery I was planning to set up once I had my own place, about the support group for expectant mothers that Joan had found for . It felt surreal, having these normal, maternal conversations with my mother after everything that had happened.
"I should go shower," I said finally, feeling the pleasant stretch in my muscles.
My mother nodded, rolling up her borrowed mat. "I’ll make us so breakfast. Sothing light?"
"That would be wonderful," I replied, touched by her offer.
In the shower, I let the hot water cascade over my shoulders, easing the lingering tension. The yoga had felt good—a reminder that my body was still mine, still strong despite everything it had been through. As I dried off, I caught my reflection in the steamy mirror. My body had changed so much over the past weeks...belly expanding. But there was sothing else too—a confidence in my stance, a resolute look in my eyes that hadn’t been there before.
I smiled at my reflection. "We’re doing just fine," I whispered, one hand cradling my belly.
After dressing in comfortable leggings and an oversized shirt, I headed down stairs for breakfast.
Quickly had breakfast, then moved to the couch and had a little conversation with my mum.
Checked my phone it was past 12 noon. I excused myself to the room so I could take a nap. I stretched out on the bed, suddenly overco with fatigue. Just a quick nap, I told myself, setting my phone alarm for 1 hour.
I had barely slept deep when my phone rang, startling awake. Andrew’s na flashed on the screen, sending a flutter of anticipation through .
"Andrew," I answered, my voice still husky with almost-sleep. "What’s happening?"
"It’s done," he said without preamble, his voice thrumming with satisfaction. "Operation ’Wild Goose Chase’ was a complete success."
I sat up straighter, suddenly wide awake. "He went to Boston? For the fake eting?"
"Oh, he went all right," Andrew replied, and I could hear the smile in his voice. "First-class ticket, luxury hotel suite—the whole nine yards. And then early this morning, he showed up at the rcury Suite at the Evergreen Hotel, right on ti, dressed in his best Armani suit..." Andrew paused dramatically. "Only to find the door locked and no Jas Wilson to be found."
I bit my lip, imagining Liam’s face as he realized he’d been duped. "Did he figure it out right away?"
"Not imdiately," Andrew said, sounding pleased with himself. "He tried calling the fake number again, but obviously, it went straight to voicemail. Then he went to the front desk and made quite a scene, insisting there must be so mistake. The receptionist—who I’d briefed thoroughly beforehand—told him there was no record of any Jas Wilson or any booking for the rcury Suite."
"And then?" I prompted, hardly able to contain my anticipation.
"Then he called the real Jas Dave," Andrew continued. "Who, of course, had no idea what Liam was talking about and was less than pleased to be bothered. That’s when Liam finally put two and two together."
A laugh escaped , sharp and bright. "He must have been furious."
"Incandescent with rage, according to my source at the hotel," Andrew confird. "But that’s not even the best part. When he arrived back at JFK, my actors were waiting."
My heart skipped a beat. "The airport scene? It worked?"
"Better than we could have hoped," Andrew said triumphantly. "Check your ssages—I’m sending you so photos and videos now."
My phone pinged with incoming ssages, and I quickly put Andrew on speaker to look at them. The first was a slightly blurry photo of Liam exiting the terminal, his face set in a thunderous scowl. The next few showed him surrounded by people with phones—Andrew’s hired actors—pointing at him, clearly heckling him.
Then ca the video. The quality wasn’t perfect, but it clearly showed Liam shoving a man who had blocked his path, causing the man’s phone to clatter to the ground. The crowd’s reaction was imdiate—jeers, more pointing, soone shouting, "Not only a cheater but an entitled asshole too!"
I played it again, watching Liam’s face contort with rage and embarrassnt as he pushed through the crowd. It was petty, perhaps, but seeing him squirm gave a satisfaction I couldn’t deny.
"This is perfect," I breathed. "Absolutely perfect."
"Thought you’d approve," Andrew replied, sounding equally satisfied.
"By the way, send your account information. I want to wire so amount to you, it should help with the dical bills and whatever else you need."
Imdiately I sent it and just within minutes I received the money in my account.
A wave of gratitude washed over . "Andrew, I don’t know how to thank you for all of this. What have I done to deserve such kindness from you?"
There was a pause, and when Andrew spoke again, his voice was softer, more serious. "You didn’t deserve what Liam did to you, Diane. Not any of it. And I know what it’s like to have Liam Ashton tear your life apart. If I can help ensure he doesn’t get away with it this ti, that’s thanks enough."
My throat tightened with emotion. "Still, I’m grateful. More than I can say."
"I know," Andrew said simply. "I should go—I have a eting in ten minutes. But I’ll check in tomorrow, okay? Take care of yourself and those babies."
"I will," I promised. "Goodbye, Andrew."
After hanging up, I scrolled through the photos and videos again, a smile playing at my lips. Liam’s humiliation was tangible, his outrage palpable. For months, he had held all the power, making feel small and helpless. Now, finally, the tables had turned.
"This is just the beginning," I whispered to myself, running a finger over an image of Liam’s furious face.
As if on cue, my phone began to ring again. Liam’s na flashed on the screen, sending a jolt of dark satisfaction through . I let it ring, savoring the mont, imagining him seething on the other end. The call ended, then imdiately started again. Again, I let it ring out, a small, vindictive thrill coursing through at making him wait.
On the third attempt, I finally answered, adopting a casual tone as if I hadn’t noticed the previous calls.
"Hello?"
"You think you’re clever, don’t you?" Liam’s voice ca through, cold and brittle with barely suppressed rage.
I paused deliberately, then let out a soft, smug chuckle. "Liam. What a surprise. Back from your important business trip already?"
"Cut the crap, Diane," he snarled. "You set up. The fake eting, the impostor, the airport stunt—you did all of it."
"Now, why would I do such a thing?" I mused, my voice dripping with mock innocence.
"Don’t play dumb." His voice had taken on that dangerous edge I knew so well, the one that used to make shrink away. Now, it only fueled my resolve. "You wanted to humiliate . You confidently ca to my company, destroyed my car, and as if that wasn’t enough, you made waste my ti and money chasing a deal that never existed. You really pulled out all the stops, didn’t you?"
I sighed dramatically, enjoying his frustration. "Oh, Liam. Always so paranoid. Maybe people just finally realized who you really are."
I could hear the satisfaction in my own voice, and part of was surprised by how much I was enjoying this. The old Diane would have been horrified at taking pleasure in soone else’s pain, even Liam’s. But the old Diane had died the day she found her husband in bed with her sister.
"You won’t get away with this," Liam growled, his voice rising. "You think this is funny? You think this is just another one of your little gas? You have no idea what you’ve started."
"Is that a threat?" I asked, feigning concern.
"No," he said, his voice dropping to a low, lethal tone that once would have terrified . "It’s a promise. Brace yourself, Diane. Because whatever you thought you were doing? You just made the biggest mistake of your life."
I was silent for a mont, letting his threat hang in the air. Then, I laughed. It was a genuine laugh, born of a newfound confidence and the knowledge that I no longer feared this man.
"Oh, Liam," I purred. "You always were so dramatic. I guess we’ll see who cos out on top, won’t we?"
Before he could respond, I ended the call, tossing my phone onto the bed with a triumphant smile. I could almost see him on the other end, his face purple with rage, perhaps smashing sothing in frustration. The thought made chuckle.
A soft knock at the door interrupted my thoughts. "Diane?" Joan’s voice called. "Are you decent? I’ve got sothing to show you."
"Co in," I called, straightening up against the headboard.
Joan entered, her expression curious. "I heard laughter. Good news?"
I nodded, gesturing to my phone. "Andrew just called. The plan worked perfectly. Liam went all the way to Boston for a eting that didn’t exist, then got mobbed by actors at the airport when he returned. And he just called , absolutely livid."
Joan’s eyes widened. "He called you? What did he say?"
"Oh, the usual Liam threats," I said, waving a dismissive hand. "That I’ve made the biggest mistake of my life, that I have no idea what I’ve started. He’s furious that I managed to get one over on him."
Joan sat on the edge of the bed, her expression a mixture of amusent and concern. "And you’re... okay with that? Him being so angry?"
I considered this for a mont. "You know what? I am. For the first ti in months, I feel like I have so control back. Like the scales are finally balancing."
Joan studied my face, then nodded slowly. "I’m glad, Diane. Just... be careful, okay? Liam when he’s backed into a corner—"
"Is dangerous," I finished for her. "I know. But so am I, now." I rested my hand on my belly. "I have too much at stake to be careless."
Joan’s expression softened. "Speaking of which, I have sothing for you." She reached into her bag and pulled out a manila envelope. "The prenatal vitamins your doctor recomnded. I picked them up on my way ho yesterday but forgot to give them to you."
"Thank you," I said, taking the envelope.
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