The Ex–Wife’s Redemption: A Love Reborn
Chapter 16
I stood before an open suitcase in Betty’s Park Avenue penthouse, mechanically removing wrinkled clothing while Betty helped organize them into neat piles.
‘I don’t understand,” I said, my voice betraying my exhaustion. “I’ve offered to let him be with Isabella openly. Why won’t Henry just sign the divorce papers?”
Betty paused in her organizing, a designer blouse dangling from her hands. “Maybe it’s his ego?” she suggested, carefully hanging the blouse in her spare closet. “You know these Wall Street types–they need to be the ones doing the leaving, not the ones being left.”
“That’s what I thought at first.” I sank onto the edge of Betty’s king–sized bed, my fingers absently tracing the intricate pattern on her duvet. “It would make sense, wouldn’t it? Henry Harding’s pride wouldn’t allow his wife to leave him.”
“But?” Betty prompted, noting my hesitation.
“But think about it,” I continued, voicing the doubts that had been gnawing at me. “If that was really it, why didn’t he just hand me divorce papers the day Isabella returned to New York? Why wait until I asked for it?”
Betty stopped her organizing entirely, turning to face me with a thoughtful expression. “You know what? You’re right. This doesn’t add up.” She sat beside me on the bed. “Something else is going on here.”
“What do you mean?”
“Think about it, honey. For five years, Henry’s been cold to you, made it clear he doesn’t want this marriage, parades around with Isabella… but when you actually offer him a way out?” Betty shook her head. “It’s not that simple.”
A heavy silence fell between us, broken only by the distant sound of traffic sixteen floors below. Betty’s words stirred something in
my mind, a pattern I’d been too close to see.
“You know,” Betty said carefully, resuming her organization of my meager belongings, “there’s something else we need to discuss. The Harding family traditions.”
I felt a chill run down my spine, remembering the countless lectures from Catherine about family honor and reputation. “The no- divorce policy.”
“Exactly.” Betty’s voice was grim. “Remember what happened to Robert Harding?”
How could I forget? Henry’s uncle, the cautionary tale whispered in corners of the mansion. “He was disinherited for getting divorced,” I recalled. “Blacklisted from Wall Street.”
“Blacklisted is putting it mildly,” Betty corrected. “He can’t even get a job as a bank teller. The Harding influence runs deep in this
city.”
“But that was different,” I protested weakly. “Robert left his wife for his secretary. There was a scandal…”
“And you think leaving Henry for Thomas would be any different in their eyes?”
I stared at her, caught off guard. “What? I’m not leaving Henry for Thomas!”
“No?” Betty raised an eyebrow. “Then why did Henry specifically threaten you about Thomas? Why make that his focus instead of the divorce itself?”
The question hit me like a physical blow. I hadn’t told Betty about Henry’s violent threats regarding Thomas, but she’d always been
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Chapter 16
perceptive.
“I need to talk to William about Billy’s custody,” I said, changing the subject. “Maybe if I explain–”
“Wake up, Sophia!” Betty’s voice was sharp with concern. “Billy is the Harding heir. Even if he weren’t Henry’s child, William treats him like the future of the family. They’ll never let you take him.”
Her words hung in the air between us, heavy with implication. I felt tears prickling at the corners of my eyes as the truth of her statement sank in. Even if I was willing to reveal Billy’s true parentage–something I’d sworn never to do–it wouldn’t matter. The Hardings had claimed him as their own.
“I know,” I whispered, the words feeling like broken glass in my throat. “I know they won’t let me take him. But I have to try something. I can’t just…”
“First things first,” Betty interrupted, her practical nature taking over “You need the basics. A job, for starters.”
I laughed bitterly. “Who’s going to hire me? I’ve been nothing but a trophy wife for five years. I dropped out of medical school, remember?”
“One step at a time,” Betty insisted. “Let’s start with getting you some essentials. Come on, we’re going shopping.
The elevator ride to the ground floor felt like descending into another world. As we stepped out onto Fifth Avenue, the familiar luxury boutiques suddenly seemed alien.
“Everything looks different,” I murmured, staring at the designer displays that had once been so familiar.
“That’s because you’re seeing them through your own eyes now, not as Mrs. Henry Harding,” Betty replied, guiding me past luxury stores toward more practical stores.
The realization hit me hard: for five years, I’d lived in a bubble. I’d forgotten how to be Sophia Wilson, too busy trying to be the perfect Mrs. Harding. I’d spent my days reading Henry’s moods, anticipating his needs, while the real world moved on without me.
“I don’t even know how to live like a normal person anymore,” I admitted, the words catching in my throat.
Betty squeezed my arm. “Don’t worry, I’ve got your back. You and Billy will never want for anything.”
“Sophia!”
Suddenly, a voice stopped me in my tracks. I turned slowly, already knowing who I’d see.
Thomas Sanders stood a few feet away, looking every inch the successful doctor in his tailored casual wear. His warm brown eyes sparked with concern as he took in my appearance.
“Sanders!” Betty’s greeting was enthusiastically innocent. “What a wonderful coincidence!”
Thomas stepped closer, his eyes never leaving my face. “Since god has arranged this meeting,” he said with a gentle smile, “would you lovely ladies join me for lunch?”
Before I could protest, Betty was agreeing, and Thomas was helping us load our shopping bags into his car. He drove us to a familiar Michelin–starred restaurant–the one we occasionally went to when we were at school.
As we were seated, Thomas pulled out my chair with practiced ease. Ladies first,” he said, handling the menus with the same grace he showed with his medical instruments.
Oh!” Betty’s eyes widened in fake surprise. “I just remembered, I need to powder my nose. Don’t wait for me to order!”
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As she disappeared, leaving an awkward silence in her wake, I kept my eyes fixed on the menu, though the words blurred before me.
“How’s Billy?” Thomas asked softly. “Has his fever completely cleared up?”
“Yes, he’s fine now,” I managed, maintaining careful politeness. “Thank you for asking.”
As Thomas and I continued our conversation, I was unaware that Henry and Isabella had also arrived at the restaurant, taking seats at the table directly across from us.
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