Hell Hath no fury like a billionaire's Ex

Diane's POV

The years after Liam's death had been a journey of healing I never expected to navigate. Time, they say, heals all wounds, but I learned that healing doesn't mean forgetting, it means learning to carry the pain differently, to let it transform you rather than consume you.

Noah kept every promise he'd ever made to me, and more. He didn't just become a husband; he became the father Dylan and Danielle needed from the day they were born, the partner I'd always dreamed of having.

The children had never known life without Noah, he was there for their first steps, their first words, their first days of school. To them, he wasn't a replacement, he was simply Dad.

Three years after Liam's death, Noah and I made the decision to expand our family. When I discovered I was pregnant with Noah's child, the joy on his face was something I'll never forget. This would be his biological child, the evidence of everything we'd built together.

"Are you sure you're ready for this?" I had asked him one evening as we sat in our garden, my hand resting on my still-flat belly.

"Diane, I've been ready to have a family with you since the day I realized I loved you," he said, his eyes bright with unshed tears. "Dylan and Danielle have made me a father in every way that matters, but knowing that we're creating a life together..." He couldn't finish the sentence, overwhelmed with emotion.

The pregnancy was a celebration that brought our entire family together. My parents were overjoyed at the prospect of another grandchild, Joan was practically bouncing with excitement at every visit, and Dylan and Danielle, now Five years old, were fascinated by the idea of becoming big siblings.

"Will the baby look like us or like you and Dad?" Danielle had asked, her small hand pressed against my growing belly.

"The baby might look like any combination of all of us," I explained. "But no matter what, this baby will be your little brother or sister, and they'll need you both to teach them everything you know."

When Adrian Noah Hemsworth was born, he entered the world surrounded by love. The delivery room was filled with family—Noah gripping my hand and crying as he held his son for the first time, my parents beaming with pride, Joan snapping photos to capture every moment, and Dylan and Danielle waiting anxiously in the hallway to meet their baby brother.

"He's so small," Dylan whispered when he finally got to hold Adrian, his Five-year-old hands incredibly gentle as he supported the baby's head.

"But he's cute," Danielle added, stroking Adrian's tiny fingers. "He has Dad's nose."

Noah was indeed the happiest man on earth. Watching him with Adrian was like seeing someone discover their life's purpose. He would spend hours just holding his son, talking to him about everything and nothing, singing off-key lullabies that somehow always made Adrian stop crying.

But what made my heart swell even more was watching how Noah never treated Adrian differently from Dylan and Danielle. If anything, having his biological son made him even more intentional about ensuring all three children felt equally loved and valued.

Every morning, I watched him help Dylan with his football gear, listen patiently as Danielle explained her latest art project, and then coo over Adrian's latest milestone with the same devoted attention. To Noah, all three children were simply his children, period.

He would surprise me with small gestures that spoke volumes…my favorite coffee waiting on my nightstand in the morning, a weekend getaway planned without my knowledge, dinner prepared after I'd had a particularly challenging day at the office. But now these gestures often included making sure I had time to rest while he handled all three children's bedtime routines.

"I want to be the kind of father they can all count on," he'd told me once, as we watched all three children playing in the backyard—Dylan and Danielle teaching Adrian how to kick a soccer ball. "The kind who shows up to every game, every recital, every moment that matters for all of them."

And he was. Dylan never had to wonder if Noah would be in the stands during his football games…he was always there, cheering louder than any biological father ever could, often with Adrian on his shoulders and Danielle beside him.

When Danielle's art was displayed at school exhibitions, Noah's pride radiated from every pore as he explained her techniques to anyone who would listen, while Adrian hung onto his every word.

The children, for their part, embraced our family dynamic with the pure, uncomplicated love that only children possess. Dylan and Danielle never made Noah feel like an outsider or questioned his place in their lives.

To them, he was the man who taught Dylan how to throw a perfect spiral, who sat through hours of Danielle's elaborate tea parties, who read bedtime stories with different voices for every character, and who now patiently helped Adrian learn to ride a bike.

Adrian, growing up knowing Noah as his biological father but seeing Dylan and Danielle as his full siblings in every way that mattered, never questioned the family structure. He idolized his big brother and sister, following them around whenever they'd let him, trying to copy everything they did.

I had never hidden the truth from the twins about our family history. From an early age, I told Dylan and Danielle about their Aunt Sophie, about how she had made a terrible mistake by having an affair with their biological father Liam, about how that betrayal had broken our family apart. As Adrian grew old enough to understand, I included him in these conversations.

I explained that Liam and Noah had once been best friends before Liam's bad decisions destroyed everything, and how Noah had stood by us through it all.

"Your biological father loved you," I would tell Dylan and Danielle when they asked questions, with Adrian listening intently from Noah's lap, "but he made choices that meant he couldn't be the father you deserved. That's why Noah is your dad now, he chose to love you from the moment you came into this world. And Adrian, you're so blessed because Dad has been your father from the very beginning."

They accepted this explanation with the matter-of-fact way children do, never questioning Noah's role or feeling resentful about their circumstances. Noah had never given any of them a reason to doubt his love or feel like second-best.

"Mom," Danielle had asked me once, when she was still young and Adrian was just learning to walk, "why do some kids have just one dad, but we have two, and Adrian has always had the same dad as us?"

I'd paused in braiding her hair, choosing my words carefully. "Well, sweetheart, you and Dylan had your biological father who loved you but couldn't stay with us. And you all have Noah, who chose to love you and be your dad every single day. Some people might say that makes you extra lucky."

She'd nodded thoughtfully, then said, "I think Noah's the luckiest, because he gets to be all of our dad."

—

The business had flourished under our joint leadership. Noah and I had found a rhythm that worked both professionally and personally, going to the office together each morning but always making sure we were home in time for dinner with all three children.

Each of us brought our strengths to complement the other's. Synergy Sphere had expanded into new markets, while Elite Group, the company my father had built and I had inherited, had become a powerhouse under our management.

Joan, my best friend, sister and our company's legal advisor, brought her warmth and wisdom to both our business meetings and our family dinners. She still visited regularly, treating all three children like her own and spoiling Adrian with the same affection she'd always shown Dylan and Danielle.

Natasha had also become a trusted member of our team, her sharp mind and innovative ideas helping to drive our companies forward. She had a special soft spot for all the children, often bringing them small gifts or taking them on special outings that they would talk about for weeks. Adrian particularly loved her visits because she always brought him soccer balls or sports equipment.

My parents had welcomed Noah into our family with open arms, recognizing the peace and stability he brought to my life. More importantly, they had become the kind of grandparents every child deserves.

They spoiled all three children with love, attention, and the occasional treat that made their eyes light up with joy. Every weekend, they would take the children on adventures…to the zoo, to museums, to the park where they would feed ducks and collect leaves.

"Grandpa taught me and Dylan how to skip stones," Adrian announced one Sunday evening, his clothes dirty from a day spent by the lake with my parents and his older siblings.

"Seven skips!" Danielle added, holding up her small fingers to demonstrate.

"Adrian got five skips on his first try," Dylan said proudly, ruffling his little brother's hair. "He's got natural talent."

"Five skips is very impressive for someone so young," Noah said, pulling Adrian into a hug. "Maybe next weekend we can all go together, and I can try to beat Grandpa's record."

My father, with his considerable wealth from Elite Group, had never let any of the children lack for anything. But more than material things, he gave them his time, his stories, and his unconditional love. He would spend hours teaching both Dylan and Adrian about business principles and listening to Danielle's artistic visions with the same attention he gave to million-dollar deals.

"That man worships the ground you walk on," Mom told me one evening as we watched Noah and Dad attempting to assemble a complicated toy for Adrian while Dylan and Danielle offered helpful suggestions. "But more than that, he respects you. That's the difference between a good man and a great one."

She was right. Noah never tried to diminish my success or make me feel guilty for the demands of running two major companies. Instead, he celebrated my achievements, supported my decisions, and ensured we maintained our promise to each other while also being present for all three children.

The Sophie Lumina Foundation had become one of the most respected charitable organizations in the state, providing scholarships to underprivileged students and supporting educational initiatives that would have made my sister proud, despite the pain her betrayal had caused our family.

"Sophie would be amazed by what you've built in her memory," Joan had said during our latest board meeting. "This foundation is going to change so many lives."

As Dylan, Danielle, and Adrian grew, their personalities developed in ways that both delighted me and showed me how well we'd raised them. Dylan had inherited some of Liam's physical features…the same dark hair, the same intense eyes, but his character was entirely different.

He was kind where Liam had been selfish, patient where Liam had been impulsive, secure where Liam had been desperately needy for validation. Noah's influence showed in every aspect of Dylan's personality: his respect for others, his work ethic, his ability to think before acting.

Dylan had also become the most protective big brother Adrian could ask for. When Adrian started playing football and some of the bigger kids on opposing teams tried to intimidate him, Dylan was always there to step in with quiet authority.

"Nobody messes with my little brother," Dylan would say calmly, and somehow that was always enough.

Danielle also inherited my protective instincts, but she applied them to both her brothers. When a bigger kid was picking on Adrian at the playground when he was younger, Danielle had marched right up to him and told him to stop. When he didn't listen, she pushed him down and stood over him like a tiny warrior.

"Nobody hurts my brothers," she declared, hands on her hips. "Nobody."

I had to admit, I was proud of her for standing up for Adrian, even though we had a long talk about using words instead of pushing. But seeing her fierce loyalty to both her brothers made me swell with pride.

Adrian, my youngest, had inherited Noah's steady temperament and natural athleticism, but with a fierce determination that was entirely his own. At ten years old, he'd decided he wanted to follow in Dylan's footsteps and had begged to join his football league.

"I want to be just like Dylan," he'd announced at dinner one night, his eyes shining with hero worship as he looked at his big brother. "I want to play football and be strong like him."

Dylan had taken this responsibility seriously, spending hours in the backyard teaching Adrian proper form, how to catch passes, how to read defensive plays. Watching them together—Dylan patient and encouraging, Adrian determined to master every skill his big brother taught him—filled my heart with such joy.

When Adrian made the youth team, Dylan was more excited than Adrian himself. He attended every one of Adrian's practices and games, offering advice and encouragement from the sidelines.

"You're getting faster, buddy," Dylan would tell him after each game. "Keep working on those cuts, and you'll be unstoppable."

Danielle, my beautiful girl, had inherited Liam's artistic eye but channeled it into creating beauty rather than destruction. Her determination to see the world differently, to create something meaningful from ordinary things, was purely her own gift. She could spend hours working on a single piece, refusing to give up until it matched the vision in her mind.

She'd also become Adrian's biggest cheerleader, attending all his games and creating elaborate posters with his name and number. Adrian treasured these artworks, hanging them carefully in his room alongside photos of him with Dylan and their father.

In Dylan and Danielle's rooms, I had placed one small framed photo each…not of Liam with them, since no such photos existed, but individual pictures of their father from before everything went wrong. I wanted them to know his face, to understand that their story had begun with love, even if it had been complicated by pain.

The children never questioned these arrangements. How could they, when Noah had been the one to kiss their scraped knees, to celebrate their achievements, to hold them when they cried? Noah was their dad in every way that mattered, and they all knew it.

"Mom," Dylan had asked me once, with Adrian sitting beside him working on homework, "do you think our biological father would be proud of us? Of all of us?"

"I know he would be," I'd answered without hesitation. "He would be amazed by the young man you're becoming, the artist your sister is, and how lucky Adrian is to have you both as big siblings. He would be grateful that Noah has been such a wonderful father to all of you."

Adrian had looked up from his math homework then and said simply, "I'm glad Dad is our dad. All of ours."