Hell Hath no fury like a billionaire's Ex-Chapter 40: Let the Best Man Win

The slam of the door echoed like a gunshot through my office. I yanked at my tie, suddenly feeling like it was strangling me. My fingers trembled as I loosened the Windsor knot, gasping for air that seemed too thin.

"What the fuck just happened?"

The Diane who had just stormed out of his office was unrecognizable—fierce, dangerous, utterly fearless.

"Where the hell has she gotten this kind of nerve?" I muttered, collapsing back into my chair.

My heart hammered against my ribs as I replayed the scene.

Why the hell did she kiss me like that. The kiss that felt more like a declaration of war than an act of passion. And then those words that chilled me to the bone:

"I’m going to make sure you’re the one who can’t afford a cardboard box to live in when I’m done with you."

I reached for my phone with shaking hands, scrolling to find holbrook number—my lawyer. Voicemail. Shit.

"Goddamnit, Holbrook! Pick up!" I hissed, ending the call with more force than necessary and immediately redialing. Again, nothing. Voicemail.

"Please call me as soon as you get this," I said, through the voicemail.

I stood up again, unable to stay still. Beads of sweat formed on my forehead despite the arctic chill of the air conditioning. I could feel dampness spreading under my arms, staining my custom-tailored shirt.

Passing the reflection in my office window, I barely recognized myself, face ashen, eyes wild with panic.

Bank statements, Emails, Records, Financial irregularities.

Diane’s words played on repeat in my mind. There was no way she could know about the offshore accounts or the creative accounting I’d been doing to keep certain investments off the books. No way. Unless...

Unless she’d found something during her little break-in.

"Fuck, fuck, FUCK!" I slammed my fist down on the desk, sending a stack of reports scattering to the floor.

I needed to get out of here. Figure out exactly what Diane knew and how much damage she could do. With trembling fingers, I shoved papers into my briefcase, not caring what I was taking.

When I opened my office, I found my new secretary, Daisy standing frozen with her hand raised as if about to knock. Behind her several employees quickly averted their gazes pretending they hadn’t been staring at my office door since Diane’s dramatic exit.

"Sir, is everything—"

"Cancel everything," I snapped. "Reschedule all meetings for the rest of the day. I’m heading out."

"But sir, your two o’clock with the Anderson Group..."

"I said cancel everything," I hissed through clenched teeth. "Is that so difficult to understand?" freewёbnoνel.com

Daisy recoiled as if I’d slapped her, scurried off to her space and quickly averting her eyes to her computer screen. "Of course, Mr. Ashton. Right away."

I stormed toward the elevator, aware of the hushed conversations that died as I passed. Everyone staring, whispering. Did they all know? Had word of Diane’s visit already spread through the office like wildfire?

As I jabbed the elevator button repeatedly, my phone rang. A surge of relief washed over me... Holbrook’s calling back. But the screen showed a different name, James Wilson, CEO of Pinnacle Development. The deal we’d been finalizing before Diane interrupted.

I answered, forcing cheerfulness into my voice. "James! Sorry about cutting our call short. I was just about to..."

"Save it, Liam," James cut in, his voice harsh and cold. "I’ve decided to go another direction with the project."

My stomach dropped. "What? But we had an agreement..."

"A verbal agreement, nothing signed," James replied. "And frankly, I’ve heard some concerning things about Synergy Sphere’s financial stability. I can’t risk partnering with a company that might be facing... difficulties."

The elevator arrived with a cheerful ding that felt like mockery. I stepped inside, struggling to keep my voice steady.

"James, whatever you’ve heard is bullshit. We’re more stable than ever. The projections I showed you..."

"Were very impressive," he finished for me. "But I’ve received a more compelling offer from a competitor who’s ready to move immediately. I’m sure you understand...it’s just business."

The line went dead before I could respond.

I leaned against the elevator wall, feeling the cool metal against my forehead. Fifty million. The Reign project was worth fifty fucking million, and it had just evaporated. How could this be happening? Had Diane somehow gotten to James?

No, impossible. She didn’t know him, had never met him. This was just horrible timing. A coincidence. Had to be.

By the time the elevator reached the parking garage, I’d almost convinced myself this was all salvageable. I’d call James back tomorrow after he’d cooled down. Offer better terms. Meanwhile, I’d have Dave draw up a more aggressive legal strategy against Diane. If she thought she could threaten me, she was sorely mistaken.

The sound of glass crunching underfoot was my first indication that something was wrong. Tiny pieces glittered under the fluorescent lights, forming a trail that led toward my parking space.

My pace slowed as dread pooled in my stomach. More glass. Metal fragments. And then—

I froze, unable to process what I was seeing.

My Audi R8. My beautiful, perfect car. Destroyed. Windshield shattered. Windows smashed. Tires slashed. Deep gouges in the custom paint job I’d paid an extra fifteen thousand for.

And across the hood, in garish red lipstick...Diane’s signature shade...two words screamed back at me:

*FUCKING CHEAT*

Complete with a mocking smiley face.

"No, no, no," I muttered, stumbling forward. My legs gave way, and I sank to my knees beside the ruined vehicle, reaching out to touch the destruction as if I could somehow heal it with my hands.

Five thousand dollars of damage, at least. But it wasn’t about the money. This car was my pride and joy. The symbol of everything I’d achieved. And Diane had desecrated it.

A primal scream built in my chest, clawing its way up my throat until it erupted. The sound echoed through the concrete structure, bouncing back at me like the parking garage itself was mocking my pain.

"Sir? Mr. Ashton?" My driver, Thomas, appeared from nowhere, his face a mask of concern. "What happened? Are you hurt?"

"Where were you?" I snarled, lurching to my feet. "Where the FUCK were you when this was happening? Isn’t it your job to watch my car?"

Thomas took a step back, hands raised defensively. "I was getting lunch, sir. You said you wouldn’t need me until three—"

"And you!" I rounded on the security guard who had come running at the sound of my scream. "What kind of security do we have in this building? Someone destroyed my car in broad daylight, and nobody saw anything?"

The guard stammered something about checking surveillance footage, but I was beyond listening. Rage had replaced shock, a white-hot fury that needed someone to unleash it on.

"You’re both fired," I spat. "Incompetent, useless—"

"Mr. Ashton," the security guard tried again, "if you’ll just come with me to the security office, we can review the footage and—"

"I don’t want to review footage! I want to know how my wife walked in here, destroyed my sixty-thousand-dollar car, and walked back out without anyone stopping her!"

The moment the words left my mouth, I regretted them. The guard and Thomas exchanged glances.

"Your wife did this?" Thomas asked carefully.

I turned away, running a hand through my hair. "Just... call the police. And get someone to tow this to the best body shop in the city."

"Yes, sir," Thomas replied, already pulling out his phone.

I walked a few paces away, struggling to regain my composure. This was Diane’s game—making me lose control, making me look weak in front of my employees. I wouldn’t give her the satisfaction.

I looked back at the wreckage of my car, then at Thomas, who was still on the phone with the police.

"Change of plans," I called to him. "I need to borrow your car. Give me your keys."

Thomas hesitated, then reached into his pocket and tossed me his keys. "Of course, sir. It’s the gray Toyota, Section C."

"Handle this," I instructed, gesturing to my destroyed Audi. "And have your replacement bring another car to Holbrook’s office in an hour. I’ll need a ride home later."

I strode toward Section C, my mind racing. Diane was moving quickly, setting her pieces on the board with a strategy I hadn’t anticipated. First the confrontation in my office, then destroying my car, now apparently turning my clients against me. This wasn’t the broken, defeated woman I’d expected.

As I slid into Thomas’s Toyota...grimacing at the cloth seats and lingering smell of fast food...a new text from Holbrook finally appeared.

"Just got your message. What’s the emergency?"

I started the car, typing one-handed: "Everything’s falling apart. Diane’s on the warpath." I’m heading to your office now.

I tossed the phone onto the passenger seat and pulled out of the parking space, tires squealing. As I drove away, I couldn’t shake the image of those red lipstick letters on my car.

"FUCKING CHEAT"

She’d pay for this. Oh, how would she pay.