The Ex-Wife's Redemption: A Love Reborn Chapter 177

Henry stared at his phone screen, nauseated by the vicious comments flooding social media attacking Sophia.

These online attacks were relentless and one-sided, all supporting Isabella while cruelly insulting Sophia.

Disgusting.

He continued scrolling through more comments, his jaw clenching tighter with each one. This whole situation felt off.

When Sophia had boldly announced her intention to divorce him, public opinion had largely supported her. Why was the narrative so dramatically different now?

Henry typically detested typing on his phone, but now he found himself doing something unprecedented—using his personal account to directly respond to a comment.

"I have no intention of divorcing my wife at present," he wrote, his fingers tapping the screen with deliberate precision.

After hitting send, he immediately called James.

"Contact the media relations team," he ordered, his voice ice-cold. "Have them scrub every single comment attacking Sophia from the internet. I don't want to see a single one of them online. Trace the IP addresses of these accounts—I'm texting you the details now."

Without waiting for a response, Henry ended the call and immediately dialed the company's legal department.

"Every comment slandering Sophia online—I want screenshots, all of them. Send cease and desist letters to every single account. I want this handled immediately."

These internet trolls, hiding behind anonymous usernames, dared to attack Sophia only because they were cowards—cockroaches scuttling in darkness, too pathetic to face the light of day.

His mind drifted to Billy's parentage—a subject he'd never questioned, and Sophia had never volunteered information about.

Despite his father and grandfather repeatedly pointing out Billy's resemblance to him, Henry had never considered the possibility that Billy might be his biological son.

He knew with absolute certainty that six years ago, the woman he'd been with was Isabella.

He hazily remembered that night—the overwhelming heat coursing through his body, an intense desire for sex. Afterwards, before he could even savor the moment, his heart had given out and he was rushed to the emergency room. Isabella had mentioned the incident to him later.

So Billy couldn't possibly be his child—no paternity test needed.

Billy's resemblance to him was simply the result of living together for so many years.

Henry sat in his car, staring into the darkness, his thoughts churning.

James's call interrupted his contemplation.

"Sir, we've traced those IP addresses. They belong to professional rumor-mongers who specialize in manipulating public opinion. They're paid agitators."

Henry's suspicions were confirmed.

These people never worked for free. Someone was deliberately orchestrating this campaign against Sophia.

"They've been detained at the police station," James added.

"I'm on my way," Henry replied.

At the police station, officers greeted Henry respectfully, offering tea and escorting him to an observation room adjacent to the interrogation chamber.

The supposed tough-talking internet warriors crumbled immediately under police questioning. They confessed quickly, revealing their paymaster: Nancy.

Isabella's caretaker.

As the name registered, disappointment washed over Henry's face. This was the woman he had cherished for years, his supposedly pure woman. To discredit Sophia, she had hired people to manipulate public opinion.

He needed to confront Isabella directly.

With James beside him, Henry headed to the hospital. His palpable anger created such an intense atmosphere in the car that James didn't dare speak.

The forty-minute drive was compressed into twenty through sheer force of Henry's silent rage.

Before the car had fully stopped, Henry was already out the door, striding purposefully toward Isabella's wing. The clock showed 11 PM—Isabella would normally be asleep at this hour.

But tonight, she was especially awake, restlessly lying in bed scrolling through her phone, delighting in the cruel comments about Sophia.

She was liking particularly vicious comments, a malicious smile playing on her lips.

"You bitch," she muttered, eyes gleaming with satisfaction. "That's what you get for stealing my man! Let the whole internet destroy you!" Her voice grew more animated. "I hope you develop depression and lose the will to live."

Henry had reached Isabella's door just in time to hear these words. His hand froze on the doorknob as he continued to listen, stunned by the venom pouring from her mouth.

"Sophia, you whore," Isabella continued, unaware of his presence. "I curse you to fall in the bathroom, choke on your food, get hit by cars, drown when you drink water, and get raped by men every day!" Her voice rose with each terrible wish. "You steal my man again, and may your hands rot, your feet rot, your tongue rot—may your entire body rot away!"

Isabella's hatred for Sophia had consumed her completely, causing her to unleash the most vicious curses imaginable. She had no idea that Henry was standing right outside her door, hearing every word.

Henry kicked the door open violently. Isabella froze in shock, words dying in her throat. As she stared at the furious man before her, her usual elegant composure vanished completely, replaced by panic and fear.

Henry's face was ashen with rage, his eyes burning like twin flames.

"Babe, let me explain," Isabella stammered, her voice shaking. "It's not what you think. I wasn't cursing anyone, I was just—"

"Still trying to lie to me?" Henry cut her off brutally. "Isabella, drop the act."

Each of Isabella's actions had repeatedly shattered his previous perception of her.

He was still gathering evidence about her arranging to have Sophia and Billy hit by a car. Once he had enough proof, he would turn her over to the police without hesitation.

Henry had thought his warning would make Isabella back off. Now he realized that was just his wishful thinking.

"I never knew you could be so vicious," he said coldly, staring at the trembling woman before him. "Even if Sophia has done wrong, does she deserve to die? Why would you arrange to have her hit by a car?" His voice rose with each question. "Billy is just a child, and you couldn't even spare him. Are you even human?"

In this moment, his disappointment in Isabella reached its peak.

"Henry, please, you have to believe me," Isabella sobbed desperately. "I had nothing to do with that incident, I swear!" She wiped frantically at her tears. "My aunt came to blackmail me. She only made those accusations because I refused to give her money or help get my cousin out of prison. She hates me, that's why she told you those lies. Please, don't believe her."

She wept uncontrollably, reaching out with trembling hands as she approached Henry, trying to grasp the edge of his coat. With a quick, agile movement, he sidestepped her attempt.

Isabella grasped at nothing and collapsed to the floor, pain shooting through her legs and hips. She wailed loudly, the sound echoing off the hospital walls.

Like a drowning person clutching at straws, she looked up at him with pleading eyes.

"Henry, you have to believe me! You can't treat me like this!" Her voice broke. "You're my man. We've known each other for so many years—doesn't that count for more than your six years with Sophia? Do you have any idea what these six years have been like for me? Have you ever considered my feelings?"

Henry moved closer, his gaze sharp as a knife, advancing step by step toward Isabella as she sat helplessly on the floor.

His overwhelming presence made her heart race with fear.

She could physically feel the pressure bearing down on her, like a blade suspended over her neck, ready to fall at any moment.

Knowing there was nowhere to escape, Isabella chose to face him directly. She lifted her chin, meeting his gaze with eyes shimmering with vulnerability, confusion, and fragility.

"If I had married another man and been stolen away, wouldn't you hate my husband?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Henry, you can't judge my actions like this. Sophia took everything that was meant to be mine. What's wrong with me cursing her? I'm not just justified in cursing her—she deserves to die!"