CHAPTER 181: THE TRAP
The next morning, Diana stood by the window of her hospital room, dressed in a soft cream blouse and stretchy jeans Monica had brought her. Her hair was pulled up in a lazy bun, and her face still carried signs of fatigue, but her eyes… they were more alert now, steadier, and hopeful.
James walked in, holding a small bag and a discharge slip. He didn't speak at first, just glanced at her from the door.
"They said I could leave today," she said quietly, her voice unsure.
James nodded, stepping in fully. "I signed the papers. Your medication is inside. There's a nurse downstairs who'll run through the dosages with you before we go."
Diana nodded back and gave a soft, "Thank you."
He walked past her to pick up her handbag and turned halfway, "Are you ready?"
"As I'll ever be," she replied, her voice just above a whisper. She reached for her coat, but before she could wear it, James was already there, taking it from her and helping her into it without a word.
It was quiet between them as they left the hospital but not tense, not cold. Just... heavy with the weight of things unsaid.
James helped her into the car and adjusted the seatbelt. His fingers brushed her collarbone and lingered for a second too long, not on purpose, just instinct. He cleared his throat and moved away quickly.
She wanted to say something, but instead she rested her hand on her belly, as if reminding herself they were there, still growing, still holding both their parents in one shared purpose.
As the car drove off, Diana stared out the window, silently promising herself: I will fix this. I have to.
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Back in the lair they had carved for themselves, Daryl paced restlessly, cursing a million times under his breath.
News had reached them a few days ago, Diana had been hospitalized after a fall.
On the day of the accident, in the chaos and rush to get her to the hospital, no one had noticed that the car was being followed.
Now, with no news of her death on social media and James still pushing forward with his press conference, it could only mean one thing:
She survived.
"She's alive," Daryl muttered over and over again, his steps growing more agitated.
"That accident should've killed her, but she's still fucking alive. Damn that man."
"Can you just calm down and let me think?" the woman snapped, lifting her head from her phone.
"Your pacing is doing nothing to ease my mind."
She stood up and crossed her arms.
"Of course she survived. Did you really think James would just let her die? Not now. Not when he's so deeply attached to her."
Her voice darkened.
"Which makes her their most dangerous weakness."
Daryl grunted.
"It's not like we planned for her to fall. But… I thought fate was finally working in our favor."
She turned to him slowly, her expression cutting.
"Did you just say fate, Daryl?"
Her voice dropped like a blade.
"What fucking fate? We create our fates. We make it what we want it to be. So fuck fate, not when I can control it."
Without another word, she picked up her phone and dialed.
Timothy answered on the second ring, his voice sharp and impatient.
"Tell me you have a plan."
She didn't answer directly. Instead, her tone oozed a quiet thrill.
"How would you like to meet our partner?"
There was a pause.
"When?" Timothy asked again, guarded but intrigued.
"Why, Tim…" she drawled with a wicked smirk,
"Now, of course. I'm sending you a location."
She ended the call and turned back to Daryl.
The game had changed.
Within 30 minutes, Timothy arrived at the said location.
Stepping into the lair, he gave an amused sigh, his eyes sweeping over the dimly lit space. "So this is where all the magic from that dangerous, brilliant brain of yours has been happening?" He whistled low. "Wow, woman... you never cease to amaze."
The woman offered a sly smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. "Tim, meet our new partner."
"You mean your partner," Timothy shot back casually, arching a brow.
She ignored his sarcasm and kept going. "Daryl Harold Higgins, meet Timothy Hutchkins."
"Harold Higgins?" Timothy echoed, narrowing his eyes. Then his expression lit up in twisted realization. "Wait a minute… The Harold Higgins? Let me guess. James' bastard brother?"
Suddenly, Timothy burst out laughing. It was hard and unexpected, the kind of laugh that brought tears to his eyes.
Daryl and the woman just stared at him, like he'd completely lost his mind.
"What the hell do I make of this?" the woman asked, cutting into his laughter with a clipped tone.
Timothy wiped his eyes. "I just don't get you. You hate James so damn much, but you keep surrounding yourself with people closest to him. First his enemies, now his blood."
Her jaw flexed, lips curling into a sharp grin. "What can I say, Tim? The enemy of my enemy... becomes my weapon."
"Of course," he muttered with a wry smirk, raising both hands in mock surrender. "Of course."
He turned to Daryl. "So... what's he like? James, I mean. You cut from the same twisted cloth?"
"I'm better," Daryl said coldly. "In every aspect. I don't give a fuck about the asshole."
Timothy gave a grin of approval. "Well then. Looks like you found yourself a keeper and a formidable piece on the board."
He dropped his joking tone, stepping forward and pulling out a dossier. "Now back to business. We've been observing. The tide is shifting. She's gaining sympathy. Their PR team wiped everything clean off the net. And James? He's preparing to speak publicly within the next 24 hours."
The woman's eyes sharpened instantly. "That's not retreat... that's strategy."
"Exactly," Timothy said. "Which means we strike before he does."
"We need to feed the fire again," she said darkly. "Smear her name one more time, only this time, we go for something deeper. Something personal and more intimate."
"How about her friends?" Timothy offered. "If we dig hard enough, I'm sure there are skeletons in their closets, enough to bury her with them."
"No," Daryl cut in with a wicked gleam in his eyes. "We go straight for Diana. No detours. Hit her with something so brutal, so unforgivable, it'll shatter whatever's left of them before they even get the chance to heal."
The woman turned to him, intrigued. "And what do you suggest?"
Daryl's smile was slow, cruel, and full of menace. "She's trying to win James back, right? She's fighting like hell for his forgiveness."
He leaned in closer, eyes burning with twisted glee. "Let's see how well she fights... when she thinks he's already started seeing someone else."