Chapter 29
Isabella’s POV:
In the VIP ward. My platinum hair was arranged in perfect waves despite hours of supposed medical tests as I lay propped against pillows. A private nurse hovered nearby, adjusting the temperature controls of my luxury suite.
“Miss Scott,” the nurse’s voice carried just the right note of admiration, “I’ve never seen Mr. Harding so attentive to anyone. The way he rushed here the moment you called, postponing all his meetings…”
I sighed delicately, touching my throat with perfectly manicured fingers. “He’s always been like that. Even back in college, he’d drop everything for me. Do you know he once flew his private jet across the country just because I had a minor cold?”
“That’s true devotion,” the nurse gushed, adjusting my IV drip. And now he’s having the entire hospital staff at your disposal. Mrs. Harding never received such treatment, even when she was pregnant.”
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noting that office hours had long since ended.
I curved my perfectly painted lips into a satisfied smile, though kept my eyes cold. “Henry has always been… considerate. I glanced at my diamond–encrusted watch – his recent gift “Though it seems his consideration has its limits.”
The nurse followed my gaze to the empty doorway. wanting your test results immediately.”
sure Mr. Harding will return soon. He was quite clear about
“Was he?” I let my voice carry a dangerous edge. Five years ago, Henry wouldn’t have left my side at all. Five years ago, before that nobody Sophia Wilson had trapped him with her pregnancy. “Tell me, Nancy, how long have you worked here?”
“Three years, Miss Scott.” The nurse moved to adjust my pillows “I’ve seen all sorts
such… devotion.”
of
VIP patients, but none treated with
I laughed brittlely. “Devotion? Is that what you call it when a man promises to return but disappears for hours?” I pushed myself up straighter, letting my designer hospital gown shift to reveal an expertly curated glimpse of vulnerability. “When he can’t even divorce his wife despite her begging him to let her go?”
The nurse’s eyes widened with practiced sympathy. “Oh! You’ve heard about the divorce papers then?”
My head snapped up, all pretense of delicacy forgotten. “What divorce papers?”
“I shouldn’t say anything,” Nancy hedged, though her eager expression suggested otherwise. “It’s just… James mentioned something when he delivered some documents earlier. Apparently, Mrs. Harding filed them herself.”
I felt a complex mixture of emotions – triumph, rage, calculation. “How interesting,” I murmured, more to myself than the nurse. “My dear Sophia wants out so badly, does she? After spending five years clawing her way into Henry’s life?”
“It must be difficult,” Nancy ventured, “seeing him trapped in a loveless marriage.”
I narrowed my eyes thoughtfully. “You’re very observant, Nancy Perhaps we can help each other. I could always use
someone with your… attention to detail.”
“Miss Scott?”
I dropped my voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “Keep me informed about everything you see and hear. Especially regarding Henry and his wife. I’ll make it worth your while.”
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Chapter 29
Nancy’s smile held the same calculating edge as mine, “Of cour, Miss Bcott, I live to serve,
Rain began falling outside, fot drops striking the windows with creasing intensity. I watched the water trall down the glass, remembering another rainy night five years ago. The night I’d left New York, certain that Henry would follow Instead, he’d married Sophia Wilson three months Inter.
“That bitch,” I whispered, digging my manicured nails into my palms, “First she steals my man, now she wants to abandon him? I don’t think so.”
As Henry’s car pulled up to the main entrance of the Harding Estate, I noticed the maple trees I’d once found so charming now looked skeletal and accusing in the rain.
“Mr. and Mrs. Harding,” the driver intoned respectfully, holding umbrella over them as they exited the vehicle.
My heels clicked sharply against the marble steps as I strode ahead, ignoring both father and son behind me. The sound echoed through the covered portico, each step a small act of defiance against the suffocating grandeur of the Harding
name
“Daddy?” Billy’s voice was small but clear in the rain–muffled silence. “Is it true what everyone’s saying? About you and Mommy getting divorced?”
Henry looked down at his son, really seeing him perhaps for the first time. At five years old, Billy’s face already showed signs of the man he would become too serious, too observant, carrying burdens no child should bear.
–
“Yes,” Henry answered finally, choosing honesty over evasion. “Your mom wants a divorce.”
Billy absorbed this with a gravity that made Henry’s chest tighten. “Is it because of Aunt Isabella?”
The question hung in the air between them, heavy with implications that no five–year–old should understand. Henry
remained silent, but Billy wasn’t finished.
“Mommy cries at night,” he continued, his small voice steady despite the tremor in his hands. “She thinks I don’t hear her,
but I do. Sometimes she has nightmares and calls your name. But you’re never there.”
Henry’s jaw clenched, but still he said nothing.
“I pretend to be asleep when she checks on me,” Billy’s words came faster now, as if he’d been holding them back for too long. “She always kisses my forehead and whispers that everything will be okay. But it’s not okay, is it, Daddy? Because you
don’t love her.”
“Tommy from my class says his parents got divorced last year,” Billy pressed on. “He says sometimes people stop loving each other, and that’s okay. But Daddy…” His voice cracked slightly.
“Billy”
“I really wish we could stay together forever, Daddy,” Billy’s small fingers twisting in the fabric of his school unifo
“I
wish you could love Mommy and me. Every night before bed, I pray that you’ll come home early, that we can have miner together like a real family. Even just once…”
Tears welled in Billy’s eyes, but he blinked them back stubbornly. “The other kids at school… they talk about their weekend trips with their dads. I always tell them my daddy is too busy because he’s important. But sometimes, I wish you weren’t
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Chapter 29
important at all. I just want you to be my daddy.”
“Billy, I…”
You don’t love her,” Billy cut him off, suddenly sounding decades older than his five years, “then please let her go. Mommy deserves to be happy too.”
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