The Ex-Wife's Redemption: A Love Reborn Chapter 110

Thomas continued trembling in my arms, his breathing shallow and uneven. His condition looked serious—I couldn't just push him away and walk off. Despite his previous inappropriate behavior toward me, I couldn't forget how he'd helped me several times in the past. I wasn't the kind of healthcare worker who could abandon a patient in need or ignore someone who needed medical attention.

"Just breathe slowly," I guided him, supporting his weight against me. "In through your nose, out through your mouth."

Thomas's face remained alarmingly pale, but his breathing was gradually becoming more regular. However, his eyes kept darting over my shoulder, fixating on something—or someone—behind me. I knew exactly who it was without having to turn around. Henry's presence always changed the atmosphere around us, filling it with tension.

"Sophia, I'm feeling a little better now," Thomas whispered, his voice steadier than before. "You don't need to worry anymore. Go with him."

After carefully assessing his color and breathing, I responded, "No, I'm taking you to the emergency center," I said firmly. "You're still not stable, and I won't leave you like this."

I knew Henry was glaring daggers at my back. I could practically feel his angry stare boring into me, but I didn't bother turning around. What was the point? I was beyond caring what Henry thought anymore. The lipstick on his collar this morning had been the final straw.

"Let's go," I told Thomas, guiding him toward the emergency department. I deliberately walked straight ahead, ignoring Henry's presence.

"Sophia!" Henry's voice thundered down the corridor, sharp with command and fury. "I'm talking to you!"

I kept walking, my eyes fixed forward. Thomas seemed to recover some strength from my support—or perhaps from witnessing my defiance toward Henry.

Henry moved quickly, positioning himself directly in our path. His face was a storm cloud, dark with barely contained rage. I saw his hand reach out toward my arm.

Thomas pulled me sideways with surprising agility, just enough to avoid Henry's grasp.

"What do you think you're doing?" Thomas challenged, his voice surprisingly strong for someone who'd been on the verge of collapse minutes earlier. "You can't just grab her like that!"

Henry's eyes narrowed dangerously. "And you have no right to touch my wife at all."

Thomas squared his shoulders, seeming to draw strength from his indignation. "Your wife? That's rich coming from a man who can't even respect his marriage. Running around with another woman while treating Sophia like she's invisible. And now you have the audacity to order her around like she's your property?"

Henry gave Thomas a contemptuous once-over. "You're lecturing me? That's interesting coming from a home-wrecker teaching a husband about his wife. You should be ashamed of yourself!"

He turned his cold gaze back to me. "I cancelled all my meetings and waited in the car for your shift to end, only to find you wrapped in another man's arms. Weren't you just fighting him off a few days ago? And now you're back to embracing him?"

Thomas was calculating in his mind, seemingly realizing that something significant had changed in the emotional path between Henry and me, which made him visibly excited.

"You know what, Sophia?" Thomas said suddenly, his voice taking on a deliberate edge. "You deserve better than this farce of a marriage. Someone who values you. Someone who doesn't humiliate you by flaunting another woman right in front of you."

I could see Thomas was intentionally provoking Henry, pushing him toward the breaking point. He wanted our marriage to end—giving him the chance he'd been waiting for.

"I think it's time you considered divorce," Thomas continued, looking directly at Henry now. "Let Sophia find happiness with someone who actually loves her."

Noticing that I was still supporting Thomas's arm seemed to infuriate Henry further. His eyes fixated on where our bodies connected, and his fury visibly intensified. Before I could react, he stepped forward, grabbed my arm, and yanked me away from Thomas with such force that I nearly stumbled.

"Enough!" Henry growled, pulling me against his side. "Sophia, what the hell are you doing? What game are you playing?"

I finally looked at him directly, my voice cold and detached. "Game? I'm not the one playing games, Henry. By the way, your precious Isabella is just upstairs in her hospital room. Shouldn't you be with her instead of making a scene here? What if she sees you grabbing your wife like this? Wouldn't that be awkward?"

"You are my wife!" Henry exploded, his control finally snapping. "What were you doing embracing another man?"

I let out a bitter laugh. "Oh, now you remember I'm your wife? Funny, you didn't seem to remember that when you were kissing Isabella. Next time you cheat, at least clean the lipstick off your collar first."

Henry's hand instinctively went to his shirt collar, his eyes widening slightly.

I took advantage of his momentary surprise to break free from his grip. Turning back to Thomas, I resumed supporting him.

"Let's go," I said firmly. "You need medical attention."

When we walked away, I could feel Henry's eyes burning into my back. His breathing was audible even from several feet away—short, angry breaths that hissed between his teeth. I didn't look back, but I could imagine his expression—the fury in his eyes, the tension in his jaw, the slight, cold smile that always appeared when he was plotting his revenge.

"Sophia," I heard him murmur as we turned the corner. "Just you wait."

That day at four-thirty in the afternoon, I arrived at Brooklyn Heights Academy to pick up Billy. I had managed to leave the hospital early, determined not to let the situation affect my mood when picking up my son. When I spotted Billy's small figure among the crowd of children, my heart lightened for the first time that day.

This moment of peace was shattered when a familiar Rolls-Royce pulled up to the curb. Henry stepped out, his face set in cold determination. Without a word—without even acknowledging my presence—he signaled to his security team. Two large men immediately moved toward Billy.

"Mom!" Billy called out when he saw me, but before he could run to my side, Henry's security had already swept him up and carried him toward the waiting car.

The other parents around me gasped in shock. Some pulled out their phones, while others called to their own children, pulling them close protectively.

"Should we call the police?" one mother said loudly, clutching her daughter to her side. "That man just took that child!"

Another parent shook his head doubtfully. "What kind of kidnapper would use a Rolls-Royce to abduct a child?"

I watched helplessly as the car door slammed shut with Billy inside. Call the police? What good would that do against Henry Harding? The police would take one look at his name and apologize for bothering him.

As the Rolls-Royce pulled away from the curb, I started running after it, though I knew it was futile. Through the back window, I caught a glimpse of Billy's frightened face pressed against the glass, his small hands batting against the window as he called for me.

In the rearview mirror, Henry watched me chase after the car, a satisfied smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. He was enjoying this—enjoying seeing me desperate and powerless.

Inside the car, Billy realized his mother wasn't coming with them. He looked at his father's smug expression and immediately understood what was happening.

"Stop the car!" he shouted, his small face reddening with anger. "I want to get out! I want my mommy! Let me out of the car!"

Henry turned to him, his expression darkening. "Billy! Be quiet right now!"

When the boy continued to protest, Henry's patience snapped. "If you don't settle down this instant," he threatened, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper, "I'll make sure you never see your mother again."