The Ex-Wife's Redemption: A Love Reborn Chapter 271

"Why didn't you call me first?"

Henry's question hung in the air between us, his grip on my wrist tight enough to make me wince.

The sheer audacity of his question made me laugh out loud.

"You're asking me?" My voice dripped with disbelief.

Back when we were married, how many times had I called him? Countless phone calls that went straight to voicemail. Countless nights waiting up, wondering where he was, if he was safe, if he would ever come home. And now he had the nerve to ask why I hadn't called him first?

When disappointment becomes a habit, you learn to stop reaching for what hurts you.

Alexander couldn't stand watching Henry's behavior any longer. He stepped forward, attempting to pry Henry's fingers off my wrist.

"Let her go, Harding," he said, his voice low but firm.

His interference only enraged Henry further. "Alexander, this is none of your business! Get the hell away from us!"

Instead of loosening his grip, Henry's fingers tightened painfully around my wrist. I could feel my pulse throbbing against his palm as pain shot up my arm.

"Henry, what the fuck is wrong with you? Let go!" I struggled against his hold, my face contorting with pain. "You're hurting me!"

But Henry acted like he hadn't heard a word I said. His eyes remained fixed on mine, burning with an intensity that was almost frightening.

"Why didn't you call me?" he repeated, as if this was the only question that mattered in the world.

Alexander had reached his breaking point. "Goddamnit!" he exploded. "Why should she call you, Henry? Where were you when she needed you? Oh right, you were with Isabella!"

His words sliced through the tension between us like a knife.

"When she needs help, why would she call someone who's broken her heart? When you're in trouble, do you call the person who can help you, or the person who's hurt you over and over again?"

Alexander's voice grew louder, drawing attention from nearby park visitors.

"If you hadn't shattered her heart so completely, she wouldn't have cut you out of her life so thoroughly!"

The brutal honesty in Alexander's words seemed to physically wound Henry. His face drained of color, his expression suddenly hollow, as if all the air had been sucked out of him.

I seized this moment of weakness to try and reason with him.

"Henry, we're divorced," I said, my voice quiet but firm. "We're not husband and wife anymore. Why can't you just leave me alone?"

Alexander, emboldened by my support, twisted the knife deeper.

"Honestly, I have no respect for you," he said, his normally polite demeanor completely gone. "When Sophia truly loved you, you treated her like she was nothing. Now that she's moved on and trying to build a happy life without you, suddenly you can't stay away. What's your problem?"

He stepped closer, his finger jabbing the air in front of Henry's face.

"Wake up, man! She's done with you!"

Alexander's words seemed to trigger something primal in Henry.

Without warning, he yanked me forcefully into his chest. The sudden movement caught me completely off guard, and my nose collided painfully with his sternum.

The impact sent sharp, stinging pain through my face. I gasped, tears immediately springing to my eyes as I reflexively tried to pull away.

"Let me go!" I hissed through clenched teeth, fury building inside me with every second.

But Henry had no intention of releasing me. His arms formed an iron cage around my body, holding me so tightly I could barely breathe, much less escape.

"Sophia," he said, his voice surprisingly calm for someone acting so unhinged, "if you agree to one thing, I'll let you go."

With his chest crushing against mine and oxygen becoming a luxury, I had little choice but to comply.

"Fine! What is it?"

Henry's request came clearly, each word deliberate: "I want you to promise that no matter what happens in the future, you'll call me first."

I couldn't help the bitter laugh that escaped my lips. What kind of bullshit was this?

When we were married, had Henry ever bothered with me? Forget phone calls—even when we were face to face in the same house, he could barely spare a word for me. And now he was suddenly insisting on this ridiculous condition?

Was Henry mentally ill?

But trapped in his immovable embrace, I had no leverage. I needed to escape, and if lying was the price of freedom, I'd pay it gladly.

"Okay," I said, softening my voice to sound like the woman I'd been before the divorce—the one who still believed in him. "I promise."

I deliberately made my voice gentle and warm, reminiscent of how I used to speak to him in the early days of our marriage. "Now, please let me go, okay?"

My simple agreement seemed to heal something in him. His entire demeanor transformed, his smile suddenly radiant, almost childlike in its joy. He held me tighter for just a moment, his eyes filled with emotion.

"Good," he said, and finally loosened his grip.

As the pressure around me released, I stumbled backward, immediately putting distance between us. Henry stood there, rubbing his fingertips together, as if trying to preserve the warmth of my body against his skin.

How long had it been since he'd held me like that, without reservation or anger?

So long that even he couldn't remember.

I didn't waste a second.

The moment I was free, I rushed to Billy, scooping him up and hurrying toward Alexander's car. I didn't even bother saying goodbye to Henry—I just urged the driver to go as fast as possible.

The driver hit the gas, and the car shot forward, tires squealing against the pavement.

By the time Henry snapped out of his daze, Alexander's yellow Lamborghini was nowhere in sight.

Realizing I had tricked him, Henry kicked his Mercedes in frustration before climbing back inside and ordering his driver to chase after us.

But by the time he reached the end of the street, our car had completely vanished.

Meanwhile, in a quiet café in another part of Manhattan.

James was meeting with Thomas's mother—Mrs. Sanders—with an offer from Henry.

"Mrs. Sanders, these are the terms our CEO is offering. Please take a look." James slid a document across the table.

Mia Sanders picked up the paper, carefully reading the black print. After a moment, she looked up.

"So if I agree to your demands and cooperate fully, you'll leave my son and our family alone? And return my favorite villa to us?"

"Is that correct?" Her voice carried a hint of skepticism.

Previously, when Thomas had pursued me, it had infuriated Henry.

In his rage, Henry had dismantled the Sanders family business, driving it to bankruptcy. He hadn't stopped there—he'd forced them to sell off several valuable properties, including Mia's beloved villa.

To this day, she remained bitter about the loss.

After finishing the document, she set it down and elegantly lifted her coffee cup, her eyes returning to James.

"Mr. James, forgive my directness, but these terms are surprisingly generous. I can't imagine what I could possibly do to help you."

The Sanders family, though still supported by William Harding, was a shadow of its former self. They were barely maintaining their standard of living. If Henry was truly willing to follow through on these promises, she would accept whatever conditions were offered.

James adjusted his gold-rimmed glasses, his gaze falling on the document in front of Mia. He smiled slightly.

"Please don't worry, Mrs. Sanders. Relax."

He leaned forward slightly, lowering his voice.

"It's really not a big deal. We simply want to ask you about something that happened many years ago."

His eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly.

"Of course, you can't claim ignorance. After all, you were there when it happened."