The Ex-Wife's Redemption: A Love Reborn Chapter 96

The emergency team moved with practiced efficiency, transferring William from the stretcher to the hospital bed. Monitors beeped rhythmically as nurses connected various tubes and wires to his frail body. The oxygen mask fogged slightly with each labored breath.

Richard arrived at the hospital an hour later, his normally impeccable appearance disheveled from rushing. When he stepped into the ICU waiting area and saw Henry sitting alone, his face darkened with rage.

"You," he growled, advancing toward his son with purposeful strides. "What have you done?"

Henry looked up, his expression uncharacteristically vulnerable. "Father, I—"

The slap came without warning, echoing in the hospital corridor. Henry's head snapped sideways from the force, but he made no move to defend himself.

"How dare you?" Richard hissed, not caring about the people around them. "Because of your selfish behavior, your grandfather is fighting for his life! Wasn't tormenting your wife enough? Did you have to push Grandfather to his breaking point too?"

Henry remained silent, accepting his father's fury without protest. The red imprint of Richard's hand bloomed across his cheek, his face revealing a shameful expression.

"I've been told everything," Richard continued, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. "Everything, Henry. How could you treat Sophia that way? Have you completely lost your mind?"

A nurse cautiously approached. "Mr. Harding? Please lower your voice. This is a hospital."

Richard composed himself with visible effort, straightening his jacket. "I apologize." He turned back to Henry, his voice controlled but still filled with cold fury. "We'll discuss this further when your grandfather's condition stabilizes."

As Richard disappeared into William's room, Mark Martin—William's loyal butler—lingered in the hallway, discreetly taking a photo of the unconscious patriarch. He quickly sent the image to Sophia.

In the garden at Maple Grove, I sat watching Billy play. My thoughts still echoed with Henry's earlier assault, my body aching from the struggle. Remembering his hands restraining me, forcing himself on me... despite the warm afternoon sun, I couldn't help but shudder.

"Mom, can we not go to Aunt Betty's place?" Billy suddenly asked, interrupting my thoughts. "I don't want to go to Aunt Betty's anymore."

I was a bit confused. "Dear, you get along so well with Aunt Betty. Why don't you want to go to her house?"

Billy stared at me earnestly. "This is our home, isn't it? Why should we leave?"

His innocent question caught me off guard. How could I explain to a five-year-old that sometimes a house stops being a home when it becomes a battlefield?

"Aunt Betty's apartment is small," he continued. "And all my toys are here. Dad is here too."

"Billy—" I had just begun when my phone's vibration interrupted me.

I looked down and froze. Mark had sent a photo of William in intensive care, unconscious and connected to a ventilator. Seeing his frail body swallowed by hospital machinery made my heart painfully tighten.

"Billy, we need to go to the hospital," I said, already standing up. "Great-grandpa isn't feeling well."

His small face wrinkled with worry. "Will he be okay?"

"I hope so, dear," I answered, taking his hand. "I really hope so."

The hospital corridor felt endless as I hurried toward William's room, Billy's hand tightly clutched in mine. When we turned the corner, I suddenly stopped.

Henry stood outside his grandfather's room, his posture defeated in a way I'd never seen before. A vivid red handprint marked his cheek. Despite all the hurt he had caused me, seeing him so broken made something inside me painfully twist.

Our eyes met across the hallway, neither of us moving. The tension between us was electric yet strangely calm, as if we were both too exhausted for another confrontation.

Billy, ever perceptive, slipped his hand from mine and approached Mark, who stood nearby.

"Mr. Martin," he said with surprising formality, "could you take me to see Great-grandpa?"

Mark glanced between Henry and me, immediately understanding Billy's intention. "Of course!"

Once they left, the hallway felt unbearably quiet. Henry and I remained frozen in our silent standoff, both waiting for the other to speak first.

Finally, Henry approached me, retrieving an elegantly wrapped box from a nearby chair. He held it out wordlessly, his eyes deliberately blank.

I stared at the gift box, confused by this unexpected offering. "What is this?"

Henry didn't immediately answer, just continued holding out the box with an impatient gesture.

"Take it," he finally said, his voice rougher than usual.

"What have you given me?" I asked, making no move to accept it. "A gift?"

Annoyance flashed across his face. "Why do you always ask so many questions? Just take it."

I remained motionless. This man had tried to force himself on me just hours ago, and now he was offering gifts? Did he truly believe a present could erase what he'd done?

"What is this supposed to be? An apology?" I pressed, needing to understand his intention.

Henry's jaw tightened. "Take it or don't. I don't care."

I could see the struggle in his eyes—he was clearly attempting some form of reconciliation, but his pride wouldn't allow him to admit fault.

"Sophia, I'm giving you a way to save face," he finally said, his patience visibly thinning. "Don't push your luck."

This statement—so dismissive, so entitled—reignited my anger. This wasn't an apology. This was Henry again believing he could buy my dignity with money.

"If you want to apologize, Henry, use words. Say you're sorry for what you did."

His expression hardened. "Isabella would never be so aggressive. She would just happily look at the gift and thank me!"

"I'm not Isabella," I replied coldly. "I don't want your gifts. What I want is for you to sign the divorce papers."

Henry's eyes narrowed dangerously. "Still harping on about divorce?"

"Yes," I said firmly. "Sign the divorce papers, and I promise I'll still maintain a peaceful appearance for your grandfather's health. If that's what you're worried about, we can pretend to be a married couple in front of him."

"That's not the point," Henry growled. "You're being difficult on purpose. Isn't this what you've always wanted—more of my attention? Well, now you have it. I'll come home earlier, spend more time with you and Billy. I'll even treat Billy like my own son."

The condescension in his voice made me feel insulted.

As if he were offering some great favor, some precious reward that I should be grateful for.

"Henry, wake up," I said quietly. "I don't want your attention anymore. I want a divorce."

His eyes turned cold. "Here's your gift. Take it or leave it." He practically shoved the box into my hands before walking away.

I stood alone in the hallway, holding the unwanted present. Curiosity finally got the better of me, and I opened the box to find an exquisite jade necklace nestled against black velvet.

I froze, immediately recognizing it. This piece looked identical to the emerald necklace Isabella had been flaunting on social media—the one Henry had supposedly given her as a token of his love.

Nausea rose in my throat as I realized what this meant. Either Henry had given us both nearly identical jewelry, or worse, he'd confused which gift was intended for which woman.

"Disgusting," I muttered, snapping the box shut.

I spotted one of Henry's security guards standing nearby and marched straight over to him.

"Take this back to Mr. Harding," I said, thrusting the box at him.

The guard hesitated, clearly afraid of being caught in the middle of our marital conflict.

"Ma'am, I don't think I should—"

"Take it," I insisted. "Tell him his wife doesn't want his secondhand gifts."