The Ex-Wife's Redemption: A Love Reborn Chapter 125

On the way back to the Harding estate, Catherine sat in silence, occasionally glancing at her daughter's swollen face. Grace's cheek had turned an angry red where Henry's palm had struck her.

"Get some ice," Catherine commanded the moment they entered the mansion. A servant hurried off and quickly returned with an ice pack wrapped in a thin cloth. She gently pressed it against Grace's cheek, her eyes burning with resentment.

"What did I tell you?" Catherine muttered, shaking her head. "He wasn't born from my womb, so he'll never truly protect you. In the future, you should just keep your distance from him."

Grace's face was so swollen it even affected her vision—clear evidence of the force behind Henry's slap. Despite the pain, indignation still flashed in Grace's eyes.

"Mom, what are you saying?" she asked, adjusting the ice pack and wincing slightly. "He's my brother, whether he's your biological son or not! If this gets out, what will people think of us? Do you still want to maintain your relationship with Dad?"

She might be arrogant and entitled, but Grace wasn't stupid. Without the Harding family, she and her mother would have nothing. The fact that Henry wasn't Catherine's biological son was a secret she had insisted her mother keep.

"You can say these things to me in private," Grace continued, lowering her voice to a harsh whisper, "but this can never reach my brother's ears. If he finds out, will he still respect you? Will you still get money from him?"

Catherine fell silent, her lips pressed into a thin line. "You're right, I understand. But he hit you! I can't just swallow this insult!"

Grace's gaze hardened as she stared out the car window into the darkness, her eyes filled with hatred. "This is all because of that bitch Sophia!"

Catherine intended to take her daughter to her room. But as they took their first steps, two security guards blocked their path.

"Mrs. Harding," one of them said firmly, "Mr. Harding has instructed that Miss Grace must go to the reflection room to contemplate her behavior."

"What?" Catherine's face reddened with anger. "You can't be serious! Look at her face! She needs rest!"

The guards remained expressionless. "Those are our orders, ma'am."

Catherine erupted, her voice rising to a shriek, but the security team didn't budge. This was Henry's house—his word was law.

As the guards moved to position themselves behind Grace, Catherine realized she had no power here.

"Fine! I'll go with her!" she finally conceded, teeth clenched in barely suppressed rage.

After escorting Grace to the reflection room, Catherine returned to her bedroom, pacing restlessly. Richard still hadn't returned home. She pulled out a second phone from her drawer and dialed a number.

"It's me," she said when the call connected. "Are you asleep?"

She paused, listening to the response.

"I need you to do something for me. Put this video online." She forwarded a clip through the messenger app.

"Yes, and make sure you do it cleanly! Nobody can trace this back to you, or we're both finished!"

She rolled her eyes at the response. "Oh, shut up! Who has a son as old and ugly as you? Don't be ridiculous!"

Her voice turned cold and decisive. "Just do as I say. Upload the video first, and tomorrow when I get the paternity test results, you'll post those too. I want to see that little bitch nailed to a pillar of shame!"

After a moment, her tone softened slightly. "You rascal! Wait a minute, let me call him first. If he's not coming home tonight, I'll come to you."

She hung up and immediately dialed Richard. After confirming he would be staying at the hospital with his father overnight, Catherine changed into a more flattering outfit and walked out the door with a satisfied smile.

At Manhattan General Hospital, Isabella sat alone in her room, her expression filled with dejection. After today's events, even Henry—dense as he could be—must have realized she was working with Catherine and Grace against Sophia.

The three of them ganging up on his wife.

What must he think of me now? she wondered, anxiety building in her chest.

A sense of crisis swirled around her. The carefully cultivated image she had maintained in Henry's eyes couldn't crumble now—she needed to salvage her image in Henry's heart.

She called Henry's phone four times in succession. No answer.

Making a sudden decision, Isabella changed out of her hospital gown into street clothes. Without bothering to inform the nurses, she slipped out of her room, down the elevator, and out through the hospital's main entrance.

Hailing a taxi, she gave the driver the address to the Harding mansion.

Minutes after her departure, Nancy returned to find the room empty. Alarmed, she immediately called Henry. When he didn't answer, she called James instead.

"Mr. James," she said urgently, "could you possibly contact Mr. Harding? Miss Scott has disappeared!"

James tried Henry's phone as well, with no success.

A feeling of unease lingered in his heart.

James drove directly to the Harding mansion, his concern growing by the minute. In the entrance hall, he noticed Henry's shoes but no sign of the man himself. Pulling out his phone, he dialed Henry's number again and heard a ringtone coming from the second-floor bedroom.

Without waiting for permission, James rushed upstairs and pushed open the bedroom door.

What he saw made his blood run cold.

Henry lay on the bed, his face a sickly yellow, eyes closed tight, lips tinged with blue. His brow was furrowed deeply, as if he was in tremendous pain. He wasn't responding to the ringing phone beside him.

Before James could react, a security guard ran up the stairs, addressing the seemingly unconscious man on the bed: "Mr. Harding, your wife is asking for food. She says she's hungry. Should we..."

The guard stopped short when he saw James standing frozen by the bed. James looked at him like he'd just found salvation.

"Take me to Mrs. Harding, immediately!"

Following the guard to the basement, James found Sophia sitting on the floor, her once-elegant purple gown wrinkled and dirty, her makeup smeared.

"Mrs. Harding!" James called out desperately. "Mr. Harding is sick! You need to come quickly!"

"Really?" Sophia laughed bitterly. "Wow, even the heavens can't stand his behavior anymore. Karma's finally catching up to that bastard!"

"Mrs. Harding, this isn't a joke!" James shouted, his composure breaking. "It's a matter of life and death!"

The urgency in his voice finally calmed Sophia down.

Whatever Henry had done, she was still a nurse. On her first day at Manhattan General, she had taken an oath to heal the sick and save lives.

The moment I entered Henry's bedroom, I assessed his condition with practiced eyes. His waxy complexion, blue-tinged lips, and pained expression told me everything I needed to know. Heart issue—a serious one.

Without hesitation, I moved to the storage cabinet where I kept a medical kit. Finding the appropriate medication, I returned to his side.

"Hold his head up," I instructed James, who immediately complied.

I placed the pills under Henry's tongue, watching as they dissolved. After several tense minutes, his breathing gradually became more regular, the pain in his expression easing slightly.

James watched in awe.

He knew I understood Henry's condition better than anyone. I had married Henry while he was in the ICU, and despite being pregnant, I had cared for him tirelessly until his discharge. Afterward, I had actively helped him restore his health through proper nutrition and medication management.

"Will he be alright now that he's taken the medicine?" James asked anxiously.

I glanced at Henry's more regular breathing, not even bothering to look up as I answered: "Don't worry. After taking those pills and getting a good night's sleep, he'll be back to his energetic self tomorrow."

James nodded firmly. "I believe you, Mrs. Harding."

He hesitated, then continued in a sympathetic tone. "About what happened at the Imperial Palace tonight... if I may say something, Mrs. Harding, your personality is too straightforward, too proud. You should learn from Miss Scott—learn to act helpless sometimes."

I raised an eyebrow, surprised by his sudden candor.

"For your birthday last time," James continued, "Mr. Harding personally went shopping for jewelry for you—a set worth over ten million dollars. Miss Scott's set was one I picked out, and it doesn't compare to the emerald jade set he chose for you!"

I stared at him, completely confused.

What birthday gift? Henry never gave me anything for my birthday.