The Ex-Wife's Redemption: A Love Reborn Chapter 112

Henry examined Billy's startled expression, his face full of suspicion. "Who were you talking to just now?"

Billy clutched his smartwatch protectively against his chest, his young face the picture of innocence. "Just practicing my spelling, Daddy. The teacher gave us homework."

Henry narrowed his eyes, not entirely convinced. This child had become as clever as Sophia—perhaps too clever for his own good. He'd bet that Sophia was on the other end of that call.

"Let me see your watch," Henry demanded, holding out his hand.

Billy reluctantly handed it over, his eyes following Henry's every move. The call history had been cleverly erased. Perfect, just as I expected, Henry thought. Sophia was definitely behind this, which meant she was monitoring the situation. This was exactly what he wanted—to make her worry, to force her to come crawling back home.

"It's almost dinnertime," Henry announced, returning the watch. "Are you hungry?"

Billy nodded halfheartedly. "A little."

As they headed downstairs, Henry deliberately delayed their meal, instructing the kitchen staff to hold dinner. Give Sophia some time to panic, he thought smugly. One hour passed, then another. Still no sign of Sophia.

The dining room remained uncomfortably silent. Billy pushed his food around the plate, barely eating despite the chef preparing all his favorites. Henry watched him from across the table, his own appetite diminishing as time passed. Where was Sophia? Why hadn't she come home yet?

"Aren't you hungry?" Henry asked, breaking the silence.

Billy shook his head, not meeting his father's eyes. "Not really."

"You need to eat to grow strong," Henry insisted, his voice sounding hollow even to his own ears.

Billy continued pushing food around his plate, clearly distracted and uncomfortable. The child was obviously worried about his mother, and honestly, Henry was beginning to worry too. This wasn't how things were supposed to play out.

Suddenly, Billy tried to climb down from his booster seat. In his haste, his small foot slipped on the polished wood. Before Henry could react, Billy tumbled sideways, landing hard on the floor with a sickening thud.

The sound jolted Henry from his thoughts. "Billy!"

The child's face contorted in pain, tears instantly welling in his eyes. "My arm!" he wailed, clutching his left elbow. "Daddy, it hurts!"

Henry's heart nearly stopped as he rushed to Billy's side. The boy's face had turned alarmingly pale, his small body trembling with pain. This was no ordinary fall. Something was seriously wrong.

"Let me see," Henry said gently, carefully examining the arm.

When Billy screamed at the slightest touch, Henry made an immediate decision. Without wasting another second, he scooped the crying child into his arms.

"James! Get the car ready immediately!" he shouted, his voice echoing through the mansion. "We're going to the hospital!"

Within minutes, Henry's Rolls-Royce was speeding through Manhattan's streets toward the Children's Hospital. In the backseat, Billy whimpered against Henry's chest, his small body shaking with each sob. The boy's distress tore through Henry's usual composure, leaving raw panic in its place.

"We're almost there," Henry murmured, trying to keep his voice steady. "Just hang on."

James glanced in the rearview mirror, shocked by his employer's uncharacteristic display of emotion. He'd never seen Mr. Harding look so utterly terrified.

The moment they arrived, Henry burst through the emergency entrance with Billy in his arms. "My son needs help now!" he demanded, his authoritative tone cutting through the busy reception area.

Hospital staff immediately recognized the urgency—and perhaps the Harding name—springing into action. James followed behind, handling paperwork, insurance details, and making calls to the hospital board members Henry knew personally.

After X-rays and examinations, the orthopedic specialist delivered his diagnosis: "Elbow joint cartilage dislocation. We'll need to reset the bone and put his arm in a cast."

Henry paled at the explanation, his usual commanding presence diminished by concern. "Will there be any permanent damage?"

Just then, Henry's phone rang—Isabella's name flashing on the screen. Billy looked up at his father, his eyes pleading pathetically. Without hesitation, Henry declined the call. In this moment, nothing mattered more than Billy—not even Isabella.

The child's eyes widened at the realization that his arm needed to be reset. "Am I going to be crippled?" he asked, fresh tears streaming down his face. "I still want to go skiing!"

Henry sat beside him on the examination table, gently rubbing his back. "No, absolutely not," he assured Billy, his voice unusually gentle. "You'll be perfectly fine. I promise."

Before Billy could protest further, the medical team moved in with practiced efficiency. One doctor distracted him with questions while another quickly manipulated the joint back into place. The procedure was over in seconds.

Billy stared in amazement at the white cast now encasing his arm. The tears on his face hadn't even dried yet, but he broke into a smile. "That didn't hurt at all!" he exclaimed, looking up at the doctors. "Thank you, grandpas!"

The specialists chuckled at being called "grandpas" by the precocious five-year-old. One of them patted Billy's head, then turned to Henry. "Children are remarkably resilient, Mr. Harding. He'll be fine in a few weeks."

James observed from the corner of the room, secretly taking several photos of Billy with his cast. While Henry was speaking with the doctors, he quickly sent these to Sophia along with the hospital address and room number. The loyal assistant couldn't bear to think of Mrs. Harding worrying about her son all night.

Across town, I was trying to distract myself from thoughts of Billy, desperately fighting the urge to return to Maple Grove and surrender to Henry's manipulation. My phone chimed with an incoming message.

When I saw the photos of Billy in a hospital bed with a cast on his arm, my heart nearly stopped. Without a second thought, I threw on clothes and raced out the door, leaving Betty calling after me.

When I arrived at the hospital, I paused outside Billy's room, peering through the small window in the door. The scene before me made my breath catch in my throat. Billy sat cross-legged on the hospital bed, his injured arm propped carefully on a pillow. Surprisingly, he was smiling, apparently recovered from the initial trauma. Henry sat beside him on the edge of the bed, his usually severe profile softened as he spoke to his son. His facial features had relaxed, transforming him into the caring father I had always hoped he would be.

For a moment, I stood frozen, hand on the doorknob, unwilling to interrupt this rare moment of connection between them. This was exactly what I had wished for during all those years of our cold marriage—to see Henry truly bond with Billy.

"Mrs. Harding? You made it!"

I turned to find James approaching, a relieved smile on his face. "Why are you standing out here? Aren't you cold?"

I blinked, returning to reality. "I was just about to go in," I forced myself to smile.

When I entered the room, Billy's face lit up. "Mommy!" he cried, his good arm reaching for me.

I rushed to my son, carefully gathering him into my arms as I examined the cast. My heart constricted painfully at the sight.

"I was so brave, Mom!" Billy announced proudly. "The doctors fixed my arm super fast, and it didn't even hurt!"

I kissed his forehead, smoothing back his hair. "Of course you were brave. You're the bravest boy I know."

For almost an hour, I sat with Billy, listening to his animated retelling of the hospital adventure. Eventually, his energy began to wane, his eyelids growing heavy. Within minutes, he was fast asleep against my shoulder, his small face peaceful despite the ordeal.

I carefully laid him back against the pillows, then turned to Henry, who had been silently watching from the corner of the room. I gestured for him to follow me into the hallway.

Once outside, I whirled on him, fury blazing in my eyes. "Is this what happens when Billy is with you for just a few hours? He ends up in the hospital with a broken arm?"

Henry opened his mouth to explain, but I was beyond listening.

"Is it because he's not your biological child? Is that why you don't care enough to keep him safe?" I hissed, my voice trembling with rage. "You can choose not to love him, Henry, but you have no right to hurt him!"

"Sophia," Henry tried again, his voice unusually subdued. "When it happened, I couldn't—"

"If you hadn't forcibly taken him from school, this never would have happened!" I interrupted, my entire body shaking with anger. "He's my son, Henry! Mine!"

"He fell from his booster seat," Henry attempted to explain. "It was an accident. I—"

My palm connected with Henry's cheek, the sharp crack echoing through the quiet hospital corridor. The slap caught him completely off guard, his eyes widening in shock.

"Enough!" I shouted. "I don't want to hear your pathetic excuses! Just stay away from us! Both of us!"

Billy was my lifeline, my entire world. If Billy had been seriously injured—if the damage had been worse—I didn't know what I would have done. And it was all Henry's fault! If he hadn't kidnapped Billy from school, none of this would have happened.

Henry stood motionless, his cheek reddening from the impact. Whatever explanation he'd been about to offer died on his lips. Without another word, he reached into his pocket, extracted a cigarette, and walked away.

I watched his retreating figure, my anger slowly giving way to emptiness. Back in Billy's room, I collapsed into the chair beside his bed.

James approached me cautiously. "Mrs. Harding, Billy's sleeping soundly. Perhaps you should rest here tonight?"

I nodded tiredly, my eyes never leaving my son's sleeping form.

"If I may," James continued hesitantly, "perhaps Billy shouldn't use the booster seat anymore. Children are naturally active, and he was trying to climb down when he fell. Mr. Harding didn't notice in time."

I glanced up sharply at this information.

"I've never seen the boss look so distraught," James added quietly. "The moment it happened, he rushed Billy straight to the hospital and called in every top specialist in the city."

A cold realization washed over me. It had been an accident—not neglect, certainly not abuse. I had completely misunderstood, jumping to the worst possible conclusion about Henry. In my blind rage, I had refused to listen to his explanation, even striking him in public.

I turned toward the window just in time to see Henry's car pulling away from the hospital. I've made a terrible mistake, I thought, my heart sinking. But it was too late. Henry was already gone.