The Ex-Wife's Redemption: A Love Reborn Chapter 266

Once we reached the hotel room, I let Billy play around while Henry awkwardly hovered near the door, clearly not planning to leave anytime soon.

I deliberately ignored him, focusing entirely on my son instead.

Billy was in his element, racing toy cars across the carpet, building towers with the complimentary notepad paper, and bouncing on the edge of the bed despite my repeated warnings to be careful.

The excitement of our impromptu trip had filled him with boundless energy.

After more than an hour of non-stop activity, my little one finally ran out of steam. Billy lay on the carpet, curling up into a ball and falling fast asleep.

I couldn't help but smile at the sight. One minute he was bouncing off the walls, the next—complete shutdown. That was my Billy.

I shook my head in amused exasperation and bent down to pick him up. Before I could reach him, Henry's immaculate hands appeared from nowhere, scooping Billy up with surprising gentleness.

He cradled our son against his chest, Billy's chubby arms dangling limply, and carefully carried him to the bed. Henry's movements were deliberate and tender as he placed Billy down, adjusting the pillow beneath his head before pulling the covers up to his chin.

The entire time, Henry's face wore an expression I'd rarely seen during our marriage—soft, unguarded, filled with genuine affection. His usual sharp edges seemed to melt away when he looked at our son.

Something stirred deep inside me as I watched this scene unfold.

A thought I couldn't quite suppress slipped through my defenses: If Henry had been this kind of father before our divorce—if he'd shown even a fraction of this tenderness and attentiveness—would we have ended up here?

After tucking Billy in, Henry straightened up and turned to me. "Where should I sleep?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

I blinked at him, momentarily confused by the question. Was he seriously planning to stay the night?

The audacity of this man never failed to amaze me.

He'd already muscled his way into my hotel room with the flimsy excuse of "bringing in Billy's luggage," then lingered in the bathroom, claiming he couldn't hold it any longer.

When he finally emerged, Billy had immediately demanded they play together, and I couldn't bring myself to disappoint my son.

And now, after stalling until nearly eleven at night, he had the nerve to ask where he should sleep?

"Doesn't Mr. Harding have his own room?" I kept my voice low but sharp. "As I recall, you're a diamond-level VIP at this hotel chain worldwide. Surely they've reserved their finest accommodations for such an important guest?"

Henry could easily stay in the presidential suite if he wanted. Why was he asking me where to sleep, unless this was yet another ploy?

Seeing my dismissal, Henry quickly fabricated an excuse. "Yes, I do have a diamond card, but I left in such a hurry from New York that I forgot to bring it. Is that a problem?"

I rolled my eyes so hard I nearly gave myself a headache. "Mr. Harding, if you're going to lie, at least make it convincing. Your precious diamond card doesn't need to be physically present—just your name would suffice. Please, stop insulting my intelligence."

He was clearly determined to stay. Why couldn't he just admit it?

As if reading my thoughts, Henry's demeanor suddenly shifted. "Fine, I'll be honest," he conceded. "I don't want to leave this room. I want to be with you and Billy. I want my son to see his father first thing when he wakes up."

I nearly jumped out of my skin. What the hell? Did Henry Harding—THE Henry Harding—just openly admit his intentions? The cold, aloof man I'd been married to for years would never have been so direct about his feelings.

When I remained silent, eyes deliberately fixed on the carpet, Henry took a bold step forward. His toes nearly touched mine as he gripped my shoulders, his voice dropping even lower.

"Yes, I'm trying to stay here. I want to be as close to you and Billy as possible. What are you going to do about it?"

I hastily stepped back, breaking his hold on me. "Henry," I hissed, staring at him with wide eyes. "Men and women should maintain proper boundaries. We have no relationship anymore. Please don't damage my reputation—I still plan to remarry someday!"

The moment those words left my mouth, I could almost hear something snap inside him. His face darkened instantaneously, a thundercloud forming over what had been clear skies seconds ago. He closed the distance between us in two quick strides, his strong fingers capturing my chin and forcing my face upward.

"What did you just say?" he demanded through gritted teeth. Fury blazed in his eyes, barely contained. "Say it again."

I could tell he was angry—furious, even—but why should that matter to me? We were divorced. His feelings were no longer my concern.

Even with my chin firmly in his grasp, I refused to show fear.

"I said," I enunciated each word clearly, "stay away from me. Life is long, and I intend to marry again."

When I divorced Henry, I'd made a clear plan for myself: five years without dating or seeking another relationship. I would focus on building my career, achieving financial independence, and establishing myself as a completely self-sufficient individual. Only then would I consider romance again.

And if someone came along who could accept me at my worst, who would embrace all my flaws and baggage—I would give love another chance.

Life is too short not to seize happiness when it appears.

As for Henry, I owed him nothing. In our failed marriage, I had given him everything I could.

If it didn't lead to a happy ending, that wasn't my fault.

The hotel room fell into a terrifying silence. Henry's sharp eyes bored into mine like an eagle watching its prey. His grip on my chin tightened painfully. I could see a faint redness rising in his eyes as he bit the inside of his cheek.

"Who do you plan to marry?" he demanded, his voice dangerously quiet. "Alexander?"

His next words came out as bitter accusations: "Do you really think he wouldn't care about your past? That he wouldn't mind you being previously married, having a child?"

I didn't understand where this sudden rage was coming from. The mere suggestion that I might marry someone else seemed to infuriate him beyond reason.

"Henry, you're hurting me! Let go!" I tried to pry his fingers from my chin, but his grip was like iron. When I couldn't break free, I had no choice but to plead.

"Sophia, do you honestly believe that a divorced woman with a child has good prospects?" His words turned cruel, designed to wound. "Alexander? Don't make me laugh. Men like him, born with silver spoons in their mouths, aren't serious about women like you. He's just playing with you."

He spoke without thinking, without considering the consequences.

His only goal seemed to be deterring me from any thoughts of a future with Alexander.

But his words were exceedingly harsh.

His callousness ignited my own anger. "Who I choose to be with is my business alone!" I snapped, teeth clenched tight. "Even if I make a mistake, I can handle the consequences myself. It has nothing to do with you!"

I was about to launch into a proper tirade when a sudden sharp pain shot through my lips.

Before I could process what was happening, Henry's mouth came crashing down on mine.

It wasn't a kiss so much as a bite.

Henry moved with no technique or tenderness, just raw force as he bit down on my lower lip. The pain was immediate, a burning sensation spreading across my mouth.

When he finally pulled away, his eyes were darker than I'd ever seen them.

"Listen carefully, Sophia," he growled. "Every time you mention marrying someone else, I'm going to kiss you—hard—until you can't speak those words anymore."