Hell Hath no fury like a billionaire's Ex-Chapter 81: Crossroads

Sophie’s POV

The hotel room had served its purpose—a sanctuary while I figured out my next move—but after three days, the walls were closing in on me. I needed to go home, even if just to collect more clothes and breathe air that didn’t smell of industrial cleaner and other people’s perfume.

I stared at my reflection in the hotel bathroom mirror, barely recognizing the woman who stared back. Dark circles shadowed my eyes, and my skin looked pale, almost translucent. I’d lost weight, my collarbones now prominent above the neckline of my shirt. The past weeks had hollowed me out, leaving behind a shell of the woman I once was.

Perhaps that was fitting. The old Sophie—selfish, entitled, willing to betray her own sister for a taste of luxury—deserved to disappear.

The drive to my apartment building filled me with dread. The last time I’d been there, an angry mob had surrounded my car, hurling insults and debris with equal fervor. The humiliation still burned fresh in my memory. But I couldn’t hide forever.

As I pulled into the parking garage, I scanned the area nervously. No crowds today, just the usual scatter of residents’ vehicles. I’d had the car detailed, but faint outlines of the hateful words still ghosted across the paint job, visible if you knew what to look for. A permanent reminder, like a scar that never fully heals.

I took the service elevator to avoid running into neighbors, my keys clutched so tightly in my hand that they left indentations on my palm. When I reached my door, I hesitated, half-expecting to find more vandalism. But the door stood untouched, waiting.

The apartment felt stale and foreign, like a place I’d visited once rather than lived in for years. Mail had piled up inside the door, mostly bills and advertisements. I moved through the rooms, opening windows to let in fresh air, touching familiar objects as if to reacquaint myself with a life I’d abandoned.

My phone rang, startling me out of my thoughts. My mother’s name flashed on the screen.

"Hi, Mom," I answered, attempting to sound more put-together than I felt.

"Sophie, thank God," she said, her voice tight with worry. "I’ve been calling all morning. Are you alright?"

I sank onto the couch, suddenly exhausted. "I’m fine. I just got back to my apartment to pick up some things."

"Your apartment?" Alarm colored her voice. "Sophie, is that safe? What if Liam—"

"It’s fine," I interrupted, though I wasn’t nearly as confident as I sounded. "I don’t think he knows what I did yet. Besides, I can’t live in that hotel forever."

She made a sound of disagreement but didn’t press the issue. "Have you heard anything more from him?"

"No," I lied, not wanting to worry her further. "How’s Diane?"

A pause, heavy with unspoken complications. "She’s... managing. The pregnancy is taking a toll, especially with all the stress. Joan and I are trying our best."

"And the babies?" I asked softly, a familiar ache blooming in my chest at the thought of the niece and nephew I might never know.

"Growing strong, according to the doctor."

I closed my eyes, picturing my sister with her round belly, listening to her babies’ heartbeats. Another precious moment I’d lost the right to share.

"Will you tell her I said hello?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper. "And... kiss them for me? The babies?"

My mother’s sigh carried years of sorrow. "I will, Sophie. I promise."

After we hung up, I moved to the kitchen, suddenly aware of how hungry I was. The refrigerator offered little—some questionable leftovers and condiments—but I found a box of crackers in the pantry that hadn’t expired. I was halfway through a sad lunch of crackers and the last slice of cheese when my phone rang again.

Liam.

My stomach clenched, but I forced myself to answer with a steady voice. "Hello?"

"Where have you been?" Liam’s voice was sharp, impatient. "I’ve called you three times since yesterday."

"Sorry," I said, adopting the contrite tone he expected. "I’ve been busy trying to get through to Diane, like we discussed."

"And?" The single word carried a wealth of demand.

I walked to the window, peeking through the blinds at the street below. Was he watching me? Was one of his "people" outside, waiting to see if I’d betrayed him?

"I think I’m making progress," I said carefully. "I left her a message apologizing, telling her how much I miss her. She hasn’t responded yet, but... these things take time."

"Time is exactly what we don’t have." His voice dropped to a dangerous growl. "Do you have any idea what’s happening to me? To my company?"

I remained silent, letting him talk. The more he revealed, the better.

"The board is calling emergency meetings. Investors are threatening to pull out. Ever since that damn interview, Synergy Sphere’s stock has been in freefall." The controlled facade was cracking, revealing the desperate man underneath. "Everything I’ve built is slipping through my fingers, and I need something to leverage against Diane before she completely destroys me."

"I’m trying," I said, my tone deliberately hesitant. "But it’s not easy. She’s still hurt—"

"I don’t care about her feelings!" Liam exploded. "I need you to get close to her. Find out what she knows, what she’s planning next. Get her to trust you again."

The vehemence in his voice chilled me. This was a man on the edge, and men on the edge were dangerous.

"If I push too hard, she’ll see right through it," I argued softly. "I need to be subtle."

Liam went quiet, a silence more frightening than his anger. When he spoke again, his voice had regained its smooth, calculated quality.

"Sophie," he said, my name like silk in his mouth. "You understand what’s at stake here, don’t you? If I lose everything, what exactly do you think I’ll be able to offer you?"

There it was—the threat disguised as logic, the reminder of what had drawn me to him in the first place.

"The luxury, the exquisite dinners, the money... all of it depends on winning against Diane." His voice softened further, slipping into the seductive tone that had once made my heart race. "Don’t you want the life we talked about? The one you deserve?"

The life I deserved. A bitter laugh almost escaped me. What I deserved was far less glamorous than what Liam was offering.

"Of course I do," I said, infusing my words with yearning I no longer felt. "I just need a little more time to get through to her."

"Time," he repeated flatly.

A thought occurred to me then—a way to buy myself space while convincing Liam I was still committed to his scheme.

"Actually," I said, letting excitement creep into my voice, "I just realized something. Diane’s birthday is this month."

"Yes, I know." His tone indicated he remembered it was just a month after his own. "What of it?"

"It’s the perfect opportunity," I said, warming to my improvisation. "A birthday gift, a heartfelt card... it would seem sincere. She’d be more likely to let her guard down."

A pause as he considered this. "That... could work," he admitted grudgingly.

"I thought so too, but..." I hesitated, hating myself for what I was about to do but knowing it was necessary. "I’m a little short on funds right now. Getting her something meaningful would help, but..."

"You need money," he finished for me, impatience returning to his voice.

"Just enough for a nice gift," I said quickly. "Something that shows I really care, that I’m trying to make amends."

Liam sighed heavily, but I could tell he was sold on the idea. "Fine. I’ll transfer some money to your account after we hang up. But Sophie?" His voice hardened again. "Don’t disappoint me. I’ve been very patient, but my patience has limits."

"I won’t let you down," I promised, the lie bitter on my tongue.

"Good. Keep me updated."

The call ended, and I set my phone down with shaking hands. I’d bought myself some time, but I knew it was running out. Liam wasn’t a man who tolerated failure, and sooner or later, he’d realize I’d betrayed him.

I sank back onto the couch, hugging my knees to my chest. The enormity of what I’d done—stealing from Liam, lying to his face, plotting against him—weighed on me like lead. But for the first time, I felt something close to pride. I was finally doing the right thing, even if it terrified me.

My phone buzzed with a notification. A thousand dollars had just been deposited into my account—blood money from Liam, meant to help me betray my sister. I would donate every cent to a women’s shelter as soon as this was over.

I allowed myself a grim smile. Liam still had no idea that I’d stolen his documents, that I’d recorded his confession. He was so confident in his control over me that it hadn’t even occurred to him that I might have turned against him. His arrogance would be his downfall.

The afternoon light was fading when my phone rang again. Unknown number. My heart leapt into my throat—was it Diane? Had she finally decided to speak to me?

I answered with a tentative "Hello?"

"Hello, Sophie." A man’s voice, deep and unfamiliar, yet something in its cadence struck a chord of recognition deep within me.

"Who is this?" I asked, though part of me already knew, impossible as it seemed.

A pause, the sound of someone gathering courage. "It’s me, Andrew... your father."

The phone nearly slipped from my suddenly numb fingers. My father. The man I’d been told was dead for most of my life. The man my mother had finally admitted was alive just days ago. He was on the phone, his voice in my ear, breathing and real and present in a way I hadn’t prepared myself for.

"Sophie? Are you there?" His voice was hesitant, uncertain.

"I’m here," I whispered, tears suddenly streaming down my face. I hadn’t expected to cry. I’d thought I would feel anger, resentment, confusion—anything but this overwhelming sense of loss for all the years we might have had.

"I’m sorry," he said, the words inadequate yet somehow everything I needed to hear. "I’m so sorry for abandoning you and Diane. There’s no excuse, no justification that could ever make it right."

I couldn’t speak, my throat constricted with emotions I couldn’t name.

"Your mother told me everything," he continued when I remained silent. "About what’s happening with Diane, with her husband... with you. I should have been there. I should have protected you both."

"Why weren’t you?" I finally managed, the question small and broken.

He exhaled heavily. "The simple answer is that I was a coward. The debt, the failures, the shame... it was easier to run than to face what I’d done to our family. By the time I got my life together, years had passed. I thought... I convinced myself it was better that way."

"Better for who?" The anger I’d expected finally surfaced, though it felt distant, like it belonged to someone else.

"Not for you or Diane," he acknowledged quietly. "For me. It was selfish, Sophie. The most selfish thing I’ve ever done, and I’ve spent every day regretting it."

I wiped at my tears, trying to reconcile the father I’d imagined—the hero in my mother’s carefully crafted stories—with this flawed, remorseful man.

"I’m working hard to find a way back to you both," he said, a desperate earnestness in his voice. "To earn your forgiveness, if that’s even possible. To give you the life you deserve."

"I don’t know if I can forgive you," I said honestly. "I don’t know if Diane can either."

"I understand," he said, and I could hear the pain in his voice. "But I’m here now, for whatever that’s worth. I want to help. With everything—with Liam, with protecting Diane and her babies, with giving you both the support you need."

More tears came, and I didn’t try to stop them. "Why now?" I asked. "After all this time, why come back now?"

"Because my daughters need me, even if they don’t know it yet."

I closed my eyes, overwhelmed. Another complication in an already impossible situation. Another relationship to navigate, to rebuild from scratch.

"Where are you?" He asked.

"In the city," I replied simply.

"Would you—" like me to come over to your place?

I took a sharp intake of breath. "Yes," I said, surprising myself, my voice thick with emotion. "Yes, I would like that very much."

I gave him my address, my fingers trembling as I ended the call. Then I sat perfectly still, staring at the wall, trying to process what had just happened.

My father was alive.

My father was coming here.

I was about to meet the man who had abandoned us, who I was made to believe was dead.

Was I ready to face him? To let him back into my life? Did I even want him as my father?

I didn’t know. But I was about to find out.