The Ex-Wife's Redemption: A Love Reborn Chapter 157

I sat in the living room, flipping through a medical textbook to pass the time.

Henry sat across from me in the Maple Grove living room, silently watching me with focused attention. I could feel his gaze upon me.

What was unusual was his patience. The Henry I knew would have been drumming his fingers impatiently, checking his phone for emails. But this Henry seemed content to just... sit there. Watching me read without a single complaint.

Strange, I thought, turning another page without looking up. What game is he playing now?

My stomach let out an embarrassingly loud growl, breaking the silence between us. Only then did I glance at my watch and nearly jumped out of my seat.

"Oh my God! It's already past seven!" I exclaimed, suddenly realizing I'd been sitting in Henry's living room for over two hours.

Had Billy been asleep this entire time? That was extremely unusual for him.

I leaped up from the sofa and rushed toward the stairs, hurrying to check on my son.

Pushing open the door to Billy's room, I found him still fast asleep, his small chest rising and falling rhythmically. I approached the bed and gently placed my palm against his forehead, checking for fever.

Billy rarely napped this long, and my maternal instincts immediately went into overdrive, fearing he might be sick.

His temperature felt normal, and his breathing was steady. Everything seemed fine, which allowed me to relax slightly.

"Sweetheart, time to wake up," I whispered, giving his shoulder a gentle shake.

Billy's chubby little hand emerged from beneath the covers to push mine away before he rolled over with a sleepy grunt, burrowing his face into the pillow.

"Baby, you've been sleeping for hours," I persisted, more firmly this time. "If you sleep any longer, we won't be able to go home tonight."

He pulled the blanket over his head and made a series of disgruntled noises. I was about to try again when I felt a hand on my wrist. Henry had entered the room silently and was now restraining me with a surprisingly gentle touch.

"Let him sleep," he said softly. "He's exhausted from running around all morning."

I could see the gratitude in his eyes as he looked at our sleeping son.

It suddenly dawned on me that Billy was the only reason Henry and I were sharing the same space right now. Without him, I wouldn't have allowed myself to be within a hundred feet of this man.

I bit my lip, conflicted. Billy clearly needed his rest, but staying here any longer felt like a dangerous concession.

"I had the staff prepare dinner," Henry offered, his voice unnervingly polite. "Since Billy wants to sleep, why not let him rest a bit longer? Would you do me the honor of joining me for a meal?"

My stomach growled again. After the emotional rollercoaster of the day, I realized I was starving. Henry's invitation was unexpectedly courteous, lacking his usual commanding tone.

I compromised.

Following Henry to the dining room, I was greeted by a spread of dishes. One dish after another arrived at the table, each more appetizing than the last.

I sat mechanically in my usual chair, watching with detached curiosity as Henry—the man who rarely lifted a finger at home—served me personally.

I ate ravenously. Henry barely touched his food, seeming more interested in watching me enjoy mine. He smiled every time I took a particularly large bite or reached for seconds.

"Next time, we'll have more spicy dishes prepared," he instructed a nearby staff member. "Mrs. Harding seems to particularly enjoy them."

I stopped chewing. Next time?

"That won't be necessary," I said firmly, placing my fork beside my plate with a definitive clink. "There won't be a next time."

Rising from my chair, I straightened my blouse and looked directly at Henry. "It's getting late. I shouldn't impose on Mr. Harding any longer. Please excuse me."

I turned and walked toward the stairs, not bothering to look back at Henry. I didn't need to see his face to know that my words had doused whatever warmth had been building between us.

Good, I thought. Better to keep things clear.

When I reached Billy's room, he was still sound asleep. I gently lifted him into my arms, preparing to leave despite the late hour. The movement caused him to stir slightly, but he quickly nestled his head against my shoulder, not fully waking.

"Are you seriously planning to take him out in this cold?" Henry's voice came from the doorway, laced with concern that sounded almost genuine. "What if he catches a cold?"

I hesitated, my resolve wavering.

He had a point. The weather forecast had mentioned temperatures dropping below freezing tonight.

"Billy's asleep, let him stay that way," Henry continued, his voice softening. "I know you two can't be separated, so why don't you both spend the night here?"

I felt my face harden with anger, and Henry quickly raised his hands in a placating gesture.

"That's not what I meant," he added hastily. "I meant you and Billy can stay here, and I'll sleep in another villa or in a guest room. You can lock the door from the inside. You don't have to worry about me."

The usually articulate CEO was now rambling incoherently. Despite his jumbled delivery, I understood what he was offering.

Henry must have seen my indecision. "I'll leave right now," he promised, already backing toward the door. "You don't have to worry about anything."

Before I could respond, he was gone.

Once upon a time, this kind of consideration from Henry would have filled me with joy. Now, it was too little, too late.

I carried Billy back to his bed, then locked the door securely behind me.

After a quick shower, I slipped under the covers next to my son, drawing comfort from his steady breathing. As for where Henry had gone, I couldn't care less.

Henry drove aimlessly around the Harding estate. Just yesterday, James had delivered bombshell news: the driver who had nearly killed Sophia in that hit-and-run appeared to be connected to Isabella's cousin's friend. They were continuing to investigate to confirm whether Isabella was involved.

If Isabella truly was behind the attempt on Sophia's life...

Henry didn't even know how to process that possibility. The woman he had loved since childhood, his pure and perfect first love, had been full of deception toward him.

His phone rang insistently. The caller seemed determined, letting it ring and ring. By the fourteenth consecutive call, Henry's patience snapped. He answered with a roar.

"What the hell is wrong with you? If I'm not answering, it means I don't want to talk! What part of that don't you understand?"

"Mr. H-Harding," a trembling female voice responded. "M-Miss Scott is f-feeling unwell. She's in a lot of p-pain. Could you p-please come?"

Henry vaguely recognized the voice as belonging to Nancy, Isabella's overly attentive nurse with the shifty eyes and nervous mannerisms.

"If she's sick, call a doctor!" he barked. "What good am I going to do? I'm not a physician!"

"She's right there in the hospital! Is she too stupid to ask for medical help?" His voice grew progressively louder. "If she doesn't even know to call a doctor when she's ill, what's the difference between her and an idiot?"

"I'm warning you—don't call me again, or you'll regret it!" He ended the call with a violent jab at his screen.

Across town, Isabella sat beside Nancy, her ear pressed close to the phone's speaker.

She had insisted on using speakerphone, wanting to hear Henry's voice directly.

She had heard everything—every harsh word. Her ears rang with the force of his anger. This couldn't be her Henry.

Her sweet, devoted Henry would never speak to her this way.

She stared at the now-silent phone for a full three minutes, unable to process what had just happened.

"Miss Scott, are you alright?" Nancy asked anxiously. "Are you feeling unwell? Should I call a doctor?"

Isabella felt a sharp, twisting pain in her chest that made it difficult to breathe. She pressed her hand against her heart, weakly waving off Nancy's concern with her other hand.

"Don't bother," she whispered. "What good would a doctor do? It would just be the same old routine."

She looked up at Nancy, her eyes filling with tears. "Nancy, Henry doesn't love me anymore. I can't bear it. My heart is literally breaking."

After Nancy's attempts to comfort her, Isabella gradually calmed down. She gazed out the window at the inky darkness, a dangerous idea taking shape in her mind.

Richard had already retired for the night, but Catherine couldn't sleep. The thought of having to beg Sophia to help Grace was eating at her, but her pride was a difficult thing to swallow.

As she lay there wrestling with her indecision, her phone lit up with another message from Grace: Mom, have you decided yet? I'm freezing to death in here.

The message pierced Catherine's heart like a needle. After reading it, emotion finally triumphed over pride.

She replied quickly: Wait a little longer. I'm going to find her right now.

It was just a matter of losing face, after all. What was that compared to her daughter's suffering?

Catherine gently called Richard's name, and when he didn't respond, she carefully got out of bed. Wrapping herself in a knee-length down coat, she slipped out of the bedroom.

Catherine knew Sophia was staying at Maple Grove tonight.

If she missed this opportunity, who knew when she'd get another chance? She drove directly there.

After parking, she stormed toward the house, pausing at the bottom of the staircase to compose herself. She needed to project authority, to appear intimidating enough that Sophia wouldn't simply dismiss her. Taking a deep breath, she marched up the stairs in her high heels, heading straight for the master bedroom.

"Sophia!" she shouted, pounding on the door. "I know you're in there! Come out this instant!"