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The Ex–Wife’s Redemption: A Love Reborn
Chapter 22
Our eyes met briefly before Henry turned away to continue smoking
For a moment, I allowed myself to remember how I used to love watching him smoke. The way his long fingers would cradle thee cigar, the elegant tilt of his wrist as he brought it to his lips – these small gestures had once seemed the height of sophistication to me. Now they just reminded me of everything I’d lost.
His bespoke suit fit perfectly, as always, every line and angle carefully tailored to enhance his natural authority. After a brief silence, he turned slightly again.
I quickly looked away. Five years had changed us both, though some would say he’d only grown more distinguished while I’d simply grown tired.
“What exactly happened?” His voice cut through my reverie, sharp as a blade.
I kept my eyes fixed on the hospital corridor stretching before me, pristine and empty. “Just a small matter, Mr. Harding. Nothing worth your concern.”
“Mr. Harding?” He practically spat the words. “Is that what we’ve come to?”
“What would you prefer?” I met his gaze steadily. “Darling husband? Beloved spouse? We both know those titles mean nothing to
you.”
His jaw clenched as he took another drag from his cigar. “Don’t play games with me, Sophia. You’ve changed.”
“Changed?” A bitter laugh escaped me. “No, Henry. I’ve just stopped pretending. Isn’t that what you wanted? For me to understand my place in your life?”
“Your place?” His eyes narrowed dangerously. “You mean as my wife?
“As your obligation,” I corrected quietly. “But don’t worry, Mr. Harding. I’ve learned my lesson well.”
“The incident is over,” I continued. “Neither Billy nor I suffered any real harm. It was just a small matter
Henry moved then, crossing the space between us with that fluid grace I remembered so well. “Sophia.” His v of command that had once made me tremble. “I’m giving you a chance here. Think carefully before you answer.”
carried that note
The threat in his tone transported me back five years, to a clifftop on Long Island’s North Shore. I’d been standing too close to the edge, the wind whipping my hair around my face, tears freezing on my cheeks. Henry had pulled me back then, his grip bruising on my arms as he’d dragged me to safety.
“If I’d known you were so eager to die,” he growled now, smoke curling from his lips, “I wouldn’t have bothered saving you five years
ago.”
I met his gaze then, letting him see how little his words affected me “Mr. Harding, if you have nothing else to discuss, perhaps you should return to Miss Scott. She needs you more than we do.”
His jaw clenched, the muscle jumping beneath his skin. “Don’t deflect.”
I’m not deflecting. I’m simply stating facts.” I gestured toward William’s room. “Your grandfather is my priority right now. Everything else is irrelevant.”
Before he could respond, his phone buzzed. I watched his expression darken as he listened to the caller, his knuckles whitening around the cigar.
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Chapter 22
“Sir,” I could hear James, his special assistant, speaking rapidly. “The investigation results are in. The incident occurred three miles from the Harding Estate. A black sedan attempted to run down your on. Mrs. Harding managed to pull Billy away from the first impact, then sheltered behind an oak tree to avoid the second attempt. She used a roadside rock to break the windshield when the vehicle circled back. The car was using fake plates. Legal is handling it now.”
Henry’s face transformed as he listened, something dark and dangerous flickering in his eyes. The cigar smoldered forgotten between his fingers, ash falling unnoticed onto his expensive shoes.
“Find them,” he ordered, his voice deadly quiet. “I want names within twenty–four hours.
I turned away, pushing open the door to William’s room. Inside, the scene was almost peaceful. Billy sat cross–legged on the edge of his great–grandfather’s bed, chattering animatedly about his day at school. William listened with genuine interest, his weathered face softened with affection.
I moved to the bedside table, picking up an apple and a small knife. The rhythmic sound of peeling helped steady my nerves as I deliberately avoided Henry’s gaze. He remained in the doorway, watching, his presence heavy in the air.
“Great–grandpa,” Billy’s voice carried that hint of precociousness that always made my heart ache, “my birthday’s coming up. Can we have the party at our house? With fireworks?”
William’s eyes crinkled with warmth. “Of course, dear boy. Anything you want.”
“Can Daddy come too?” Billy asked, hope brightening his features. “Last year he was in London, but this year he’s here! We could cut the cake together, and maybe…”
I focused on the apple in my hands, carefully maintaining the spiral of red skin falling away from white flesh. The knife didn’t slip, even as I felt Henry’s gaze burning into me.
“Your father will be there,” William declared, shooting a stern look at Henry. The disapproval in his expression was clear – he’d never approved of how Henry handled his family obligations.
“Really?” Billy’s face lit up. “Promise?”
The silence that followed was deafening. I risked a glance up, catching the complex emotions warring on Henry’s face. For a moment, he looked almost human, almost vulnerable. Then his mask slipped back into place.
“I have meetings,” he said shortly, already turning away. “James will handle the party arrangements.”
I watched Billy’s smile fade, saw the way his small shoulders slumped. The apple skin broke under my knife, the perfect spiral ruined.
“Don’t worry, sweetheart,” I said softly, moving to sit beside him. “Mommy will make a special party for you.”
“NO!” Billy’s voice suddenly rang out, startling us all. “I want Daddy to be there for my birthday!”
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