The Ex-Wife's Redemption: A Love Reborn Chapter 101

The disappointment in Henry's eyes was unmistakable as he stared at his mother.

"And from the moment you heard I was injured until now, you haven't asked me once if I'm alright," Henry said, his voice unnaturally calm.

Catherine's expression shifted, suddenly realizing her oversight. She reached for his injured hand with exaggerated concern. "Oh, Henry! I'm so sorry, darling. Does it hurt terribly? We should call the family doctor immediately!"

Her sudden display of motherly worry only made Henry's heart grow colder. This woman had raised him, had been the center of his world for so many years. Yet in this moment, she felt like a stranger—someone putting on a performance rather than a genuine mother.

"Don't bother," he said, pulling his hand away. "Sophia already treated it."

At the mention of my name, Catherine's face hardened. "Of course she did," she muttered. "Always trying to play the perfect wife."

Grace, who had been uncharacteristically quiet, suddenly dropped to her knees in front of Henry, tears streaming down her face.

"I'm sorry, brother," she sobbed, clutching at his pants leg. "I was just so angry! That woman has been turning everyone against me. Father, Grandfather, and now even you! She's stolen everything from me!"

Henry looked down at his sister, this spoiled child who had been the family's treasure since birth. His own beloved sister who had held a knife to his wife and son's throats just hours ago.

"I can apologize," Catherine interjected quickly, dropping to her knees beside Grace. "I can even bow down if necessary. Please, just don't be angry with your sister. She made a mistake, but she's family."

These words, meant to soften Henry's resolve, instead made his heart turn to ice. The realization that his mother cared about helping Grace escape punishment rather than acknowledging the severity of her actions hit him like a physical blow.

"A mistake?" Henry echoed, his voice dangerously quiet. "She held a knife to a five-year-old child's throat, Mother. That's not a mistake—that's a crime."

His gaze shifted to Grace, still kneeling with tears streaming down her face. "You have two options," he said coldly. "One: sincerely apologize to Sophia until she accepts your apology. Two: I turn the security footage over to the police, and they decide whether you go to prison."

Catherine gasped. "Prison? Henry, you can't be serious! She's your sister!"

"Which will it be, Grace?" Henry pressed, ignoring his mother's protests.

Catherine didn't even wait for Grace to respond. "No prison!" she answered immediately. "We'll apologize to Sophia. I can do it for Grace if needed."

Grace's head snapped up, her tearful expression morphing into one of outrage. "Apologize to that gold-digger? Never! She's nobody—just some cheap country girl who trapped you! I haven't done anything wrong!"

Catherine leaned closer to her daughter, whispering urgently, "Be practical, Grace. If you go to prison, she wins. Swallow your pride just this once. We can deal with her later."

As mother and daughter continued their hushed argument, Henry stepped away, lighting a cigarette and staring out into the darkness beyond the window. His mind drifted to Sophia's reaction when she'd seen his bleeding hand. Without a word, she had immediately put Billy aside and rushed to get the first aid kit. Her gentle hands had cleaned and bandaged his wound with practiced efficiency, her face betraying concern despite their complicated relationship.

The contrast between Sophia's instinctive care for him and his mother's performative concern couldn't be more stark. How had he never noticed this before?

He recalled a conversation with his friend Benjamin years ago. "Why does your mother hate your wife so much?" Benjamin had asked. "A mother who truly loves her son wouldn't force him to choose between her and his wife. Especially when Sophia is so respectful and accommodating. If she finds fault with a daughter-in-law like that, it only proves one thing: your mother doesn't really love you."

Henry had dismissed these words at the time, considering them nonsense. But now, they seemed like a prophecy.

Catherine approached him from behind, her voice as gentle as possible with an underlying tone of placation.

"Henry, please don't make your sister apologize to Sophia. You know how stubborn Grace is—she'd rather go to jail than humble herself to that woman."

When Henry remained silent, Catherine continued, her voice filled with pleading. "We're family, Henry. Blood is thicker than water. Can't you forgive her just this once, for family's sake?"

Henry turned slowly, his face expressionless as he met his mother's gaze. "So holding someone at knifepoint is such a trivial matter in your eyes?" His voice was cold, detached. "If that's the case, I'll turn the video over to the police tomorrow morning."

Catherine's mouth opened to protest, but Henry had already walked away, leaving her standing alone in the darkened room.

When he returned to the south wing, Henry found Sophia and Billy at the dinner table. After the terrifying ordeal, Billy had insisted on having his mother cook dinner, claiming he only enjoyed Sophia's cooking. Though still shaken, Sophia had headed to the kitchen.

As Henry appeared in the doorway, Sophia suddenly realized something—she had, once again, unconsciously prepared all of Henry's favorite dishes. Since deciding to leave him, she had been trying to break the habits of their married life.

She had failed.

Billy spotted his father first, his small face lighting up with concern as he noticed the bandaged hand. Without hesitation, he gently blew on Henry's wounded hand, as if his breath could magically heal the pain.

"Does it hurt, Dad?" he asked, his eyes wide with worry.

A soft smile played at the corners of Henry's mouth as he gently ruffled Billy's hair. "Not anymore. Thank you."

The tenderness in this small exchange made something twist in my chest. I watched as Henry settled into his chair, his eyes moving between Billy and me with an expression I couldn't quite read.

Soon after, Billy announced he was full and wanted to play with his new building blocks in his room, leaving Henry and me alone at the table.

I immediately stood up, gathering the empty plates. "I should check on Billy—"

"I can't use my fork," Henry interrupted, holding up his bandaged hand with a hint of that familiar arrogance. "My hand hurts too much."

The implication was clear—he wanted me to feed him. I hesitated, feeling irritated by his manipulation although he had indeed been injured protecting Billy and me.

With a resigned sigh, I sat back down and picked up his fork, spearing a piece of beef and holding it out to him. Henry's eyes never left my face as he accepted the food, and despite everything, a strange intimacy settled over us.

"Grace will apologize to you tonight," he said casually between bites.

I nearly dropped the fork in shock. Since the day I'd married into the Harding family, Grace had made it clear she considered me beneath her. "Country girl," "gold-digger," "whore"—these were her kinder nicknames for me.

"She will?" I couldn't keep the disbelief from my voice.

Henry's eyes narrowed slightly at my reaction. "You don't believe me?"

I blinked, recovering quickly. As I offered him another bite, my face wore a mocking playfulness. "Well, she hasn't apologized yet, has she? Perhaps Mr. Harding is being a bit premature with his promises."

The Harding family adored Grace. They had indulged her every whim since childhood. This situation, like all others involving their precious princess, would inevitably be smoothed over, forgotten, forgiven.

But for a brief moment, watching Henry's determined expression, I truly felt that in this world, someone might stand up for me.