Hell Hath no fury like a billionaire's Ex

Diane’s POV

"Diane," Joan began, moving to sit beside me on the bed. "You need to remember what Dr. Chen told you. Stress isn’t good for you or the babies. Your blood pressure was already concerning at your first appointment."

I let out a bitter laugh. "How am I supposed to stay calm when my entire life has been a lie? When everyone I’ve ever trusted has betrayed me?"

Joan took my hand, her touch gentle but firm. "I know. And I’m not saying what your parents did was right. But I am saying that your health—and the health of those babies—has to come first right now."

I knew she was right. Taking a deep breath, I nodded, trying to calm the storm of emotions raging inside me.

"My phone," I said suddenly, remembering I’d turned it off last night. "Where is it?"

Joan hesitated, then reached for my purse on the nightstand. "Here. But maybe you should take a few minutes before—"

I was already reaching for it, powering it on. The screen lit up, and immediately notifications began flooding in. Text messages. Missed calls. Social media alerts. All cascading onto my screen like a digital avalanche.

"What the hell?" I whispered, scrolling through the messages with increasing alarm.

There were texts from my boss, from friends I hadn’t spoken to in months, from Andrew—my father—begging for forgiveness, promising to be better than he had been. And then, mixed among them, messages from people I barely knew, offering sympathy, support, or in some cases, vicious criticism.

I froze, looking up at Joan with confusion. "The interview... it’s been published."