The Ex-Wife's Redemption: A Love Reborn Chapter 93

"I hate you!" Billy struggled violently in Henry's arms, his small face flushed with anger. "Put me down! That mean lady said you don't even want me!"

Henry's expression darkened as he tightened his grip on our son. "Billy, stop this nonsense right now. What mean lady? Who taught you to say these things?"

"Isabella!" Billy shouted, his voice cracking with emotion. "She said you never wanted me! That I'm just a brat you have to take care of!"

I watched the color drain from Henry's face. For a brief moment, I thought I saw confusion flash in his eyes, but it quickly hardened into something colder.

"That's enough," Henry snapped, his voice taking on that commanding tone he frequently used. "Isabella would never say such things. Someone's been filling your head with lies."

His accusatory gaze fell directly on me.

Billy's body went rigid in Henry's arms. "She did say it! When I called your phone this morning!" His voice rose higher, desperately trying to gain his father's trust. "She said you'll never love Mom! That you're always complaining about me! That you only pretend to care about us!"

"I said that's enough," Henry growled, his patience clearly evaporating.

The same man who'd been gentle with Isabella hours earlier now glared at our five-year-old son like he was facing an adversary.

"Do you believe me?" Billy cried out, his little hands forming fists as he pounded against Henry's chest. "You always take her side! She's not nice! She's mean and fake! Mom says she just pretends to be sick to get your attention!"

My heart stopped.

Damn it, Billy. Some things shouldn't be said in front of Henry.

Henry's eyes snapped to mine, cold fury building behind them. "So that's what this is about. The big one doesn't listen, and now the little one is rebelling too."

"Don't blame him for your mistakes," I warned, stepping forward. "He's just a child."

Henry's grip on Billy tightened. "Be quiet and listen to me," he commanded our son. "I don't know what your mother's been telling you, but—"

"She's right about everything!" Billy interrupted, his voice sharp with defiance. "Isabella is just pretending! When she thinks no one's watching, she doesn't even look sick! I saw her picture online eating at a fancy restaurant! Sick people don't eat that kind of food!"

I hadn't realized Billy had seen those photos. He was too observant for his own good.

Henry's expression transformed into something I'd never seen directed at our son before—pure, unfiltered anger.

"That's it. I won't tolerate this disrespect anymore."

What happened next occurred so quickly I barely had time to react. Henry, apparently deciding to establish his dominance, grabbed Billy by the legs and flipped him upside down. Our son dangled head-first, his face quickly reddening as blood rushed to his head.

"Dad!" Billy gasped. "Let me go—" His words dissolved into violent coughing as he choked on his own saliva, his small body convulsing with each spasm.

Primal maternal instinct awakened inside me.

I lunged forward, a roar of fury tearing from my throat that I didn't recognize as my own voice.

"PUT HIM DOWN, YOU BASTARD!" I screamed, clawing at Henry's arms. "HE CAN'T BREATHE!"

Henry held firm, apparently believing this was just a disciplinary measure. "He needs to learn respect—"

I didn't let him finish. No longer caring about consequences, I grabbed my slipper and began wildly slapping it against Henry's head and shoulders.

"Let him go! LET HIM GO!" The slipper was useless against Henry's strength. Billy's coughing grew more violent, his small face now a frightening shade of crimson.

I felt desperate, dropped the slipper, and bit down on Henry's forearm with all my strength.

I tasted blood immediately. The metallic flavor filled my mouth as I clamped down harder, thinking only of saving my son.

How much I once loved this man, and now I wanted to tear his flesh.

Henry howled in pain, his grip on Billy instantly loosening. I seized the opportunity, yanking our son from his grasp and pulling him safely against my chest. My hand gently stroked Billy's back as he continued to cough, tears streaming down his flushed face.

"It's okay, baby," I whispered, my voice shaking with anger and fear. "Mommy's got you. You're safe now."

Henry stared at his bleeding arm in disbelief before his gaze lifted to me, eyes blazing with fury. "What the fuck is wrong with you? Are you a dog? Every time we fight, you bite!"

Blood dripped from the fresh wound onto the polished floor, adding to his previous injury that hadn't yet healed.

"What's wrong with me?" I spat back, still cradling Billy protectively. "You just held your son upside down until he couldn't breathe! What kind of monster does that to a child?"

"I was teaching him discipline!" Henry insisted, pressing his hand against the wound to stop the bleeding. "Something you've clearly failed to do!"

"Discipline?" I laughed bitterly. "This isn't discipline. This is abuse. And if you ever—ever—lay another finger on him like that again, I swear I will kill you."

The murderous intent in my voice must have registered, because Henry actually took a step back. Something flashed in his eyes—not just anger, but genuine surprise. Perhaps he was finally seeing the real me, not the docile, accommodating woman he'd married.

"You've changed," he said quietly. "The woman I married would never—"

"The woman you married was a fool," I interrupted. "She let you walk all over her for five years. She's gone now."

Henry stared at me for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Finally, he spoke, his voice eerily calm. "Bandage this for me."

I blinked, thrown by the sudden change in subject. "What?"

"My arm," he clarified, gesturing to the bite mark. "It needs to be cleaned and bandaged. Come upstairs."

I almost laughed at the absurdity of his request. "You think I'm going to help you after what you just did?"

His eyes narrowed dangerously. "If you don't, I'll press charges for assault. Imagine spending a few days in jail while your son waits outside with no one to—"

The hatred in my eyes stopped him from continuing.

"You wouldn't dare," I whispered, my voice trembling with anger.

Henry didn't respond, but something in his face had changed. Behind the anger, I glimpsed confusion, maybe even hurt.

Was he actually wondering what had happened to the woman who had loved him unconditionally for years?

Without another word, he turned and headed upstairs, clearly expecting me to follow.

I looked down at Billy, who had finally stopped coughing but was still trembling against my chest.

"Sweetie, are you okay?" I asked softly, brushing tear-streaked hair from his forehead.

He nodded weakly. "I'm sorry, Mom. I didn't mean to make Dad so mad."

"This isn't your fault," I assured him, kissing the top of his head. "None of this is your fault."

As I comforted my son, a chilling realization washed over me.

People who once loved each other couldn't simply live as acquaintances in the same city. The familiarity bred either renewed affection or festering hatred—there was no possibility of peaceful coexistence.

Perhaps leaving New York entirely was my only option now.

After settling Billy, I reluctantly followed Henry upstairs. As I mechanically treated his injury, I stared at his face, remembering how just days ago, this same man had rushed to my rescue, heroically confronting Thomas when he tried to force himself on me.

I wondered if Henry's concern for me was possession or love?

Henry watched my face intently as I worked, his uninjured hand lifting slightly as if to touch my cheek. I immediately pulled back, blocking his advance.

"Don't," I warned.

His hand dropped, and we continued in silence, I deeply realized that the gap between us was wider than ever before.