Heary & discomfort was palpable as Isabella’s perfectly manicured fingers traced patterns on his sleeve,
Henry, the murmured, “You’ll stay with me tonight, won’t you? I’m still so shaken from everything…
He shifted his position, suddenly feeling that being around her was suffocating. When had her presence begun to feel like a never ending pertaman
“I have meetings, he replied, the excuse sounding hollow even to his own ears.
Isabella’s face crumpled with disappointment. “Of course. Work always comes first. She turned away, allowing a single tear to trail perfectly down her cheek. “I understand. I’ll just… stay here. Alone.”
The moment Henry’s footsteps faded down the corridor, Isabella’s demeanor transformed. Her tears dried instantly as she jabbed at her phone’s screen.
“Nancy! Her voice was sharp and serious. “Get in here. Now.”
The nurse appeared within seconds, her facewas filled with anxiety. “Yes, Miss Scott?
“Explain to me,” Isabella’s voice dropped dangerously low, how that bathroom incident got leaked?
Nancy’s hands twisted in her uniform. “Miss Scott, I… I was careful. But there were security cameras we didn’t know about, and-
“Excuses!” Isabella shouted.
Nancy watched Isabella pace back and forth in the luxurious hospital room and thought, ‘What a frightening transformation–from a delicate socialite to a ruthless schemer.”
Gone was the fragile socialite who needed Henry’s constant support – in her place stood a calculating predator.
“I’m sorry, Miss Scott. It won’t happen again.”
“No,” Isabella’s smile was razor–sharp. “It won’t.”
Meanwhile, I searched every corner of hospital with growing desperation. Billy’s tracking watch showed offline, my calls to Henry went straight to voicemail, and the security team that had taken my son had vanished like smoke.
How could I have been so stupid?‘ The thought echoed through my mind as I checked another empty waiting room. ‘Five years of marriage, and I still didn’t
see this coming.
My phone buzzed – another social media notification. The hashtag #HardingDrama was still trending, my public confrontation with Isabella playing on repeat across every platform. The comments ranged from supportive to scathing:
“Mrs. Harding finally showing some backbone! #AboutTime” “Isabella Scott giving soap opera villains a run for their money” “Who else thinks this whole thing is staged? Rich people drama *
I switched off my phone, bile rising in my throat. None of it mattered. All that mattered was finding my son.
་
‘Was it worth it? The question haunted me as I slumped against a wall, exhaustion finally overtaking me. ‘Five years of trying to earn his love, of being the perfect wife, of pretending not to see the way he looked at Isabella… was any of it worth it?‘
Across town, the private room at Whiskey Blue pulsed with neon lights. Henry sat rigid in his leather booth, watching the dancers with thinly veiled disgust.
“For a man who suggested drinks,” Frank Wall drawled from across the table, “you’re being a terrible bore.” The investment banker gestured expansively at the scantily clad women. “Live a little! You’re Henry!”
Henry took another sip of his scotch, the aged liquid burning a path down his throat. He’d come here to forget, to drown out the image of Sophia’s defiant face as she broadcasted their family drama to the world. Instead, each drink only made her voice clearer in his head.
‘Look at these lovely ladies,” Frank continued, his theatrical gestures growing more pronounced with each drink. “Any one of them would kill to spend a
1/3
Chapter 46
night with the great Henry Harding, yet here you all, playing the faith hasband he formed forward, he voler tropping tend t missing Sophis, right-
Henry’s fingers tightened around his glass. Watch yourself, Frank.‘
Oh, spare me the tighteous act Frank tossed a thick stack of bills onto the table, “Ladies! Special prize whoever can make Mr. Harding herë qinda gets it allf
The dancers descended like perfectly coiffed vultures, their practiced touches and seductive smiles making Henry crawl. One particularly bold performer pressed herself against him, her heavily perfumed hair falling across his face.
But all he could see was the greed in their eyes—he had seen it in Isabella’s eyes before, even if it was just for a fleeting moment. Get off me, he growled, shoving the women away. “All of you – out!”
“What’s wrong?” One dancer pouted as she retreated. “Wife keep you on a tight leash?”
Henry moved faster than anyone could react, his fingers closing around the woman’s throat. “What did you say?*
“Henry!” Frank jumped up, pulling him back. “Forget it!”
The dancer stumbled away, gasping. As soon as it was safe, a gleam of vengeful fervor flashed across her face. She pulled out her phone with trembling fingers. The photos uploaded quickly – Henry Harding in a private room, surrounded by dancers.
Benjamin Harrison, who had remained silent throughout, finally spoke up with an amused smirk. “How interesting. Since when did the mighty Henry Harding become so protective of his wife?”
The question hung heavy in the private room’s air. Benjamin swirled his bourbon whiskey, studying Henry thoughtfully.
“She’s nothing but a nanny,” Benjamin continued, his elegant voice dripping with contempt. “Just someone to look after your heir. Why get so worked up over some social media `drama?”
The room’s temperature seemed to plummet. Henry moved swiftly–his foot connecting hard with Benjamin’s shin, making the other man cry out in pain.
“Some things,” Henry’s voice was low and dangerous, ‘only I get to criticize about my wife. Not you. Not anyone.”
Benjamin rubbed his leg, a flash of genuine fear crossing his face before he masked it with a pained smile. “Whatever you say,” he muttered, then fell silent.
Frank smoothly changed the subject, diffusing the awkward atmosphere. “Have you seen the latest merger talks on Wall Street? Really fascinating…”
After Henry stormed out, Benjamin turned to Frank. “What was that about? I thought he couldn’t wait to be rid of Sophia.”
Frank wore an uncharacteristically serious expression as he sipped his drink. “You know what I saw in his eyes just now? Murder. Pure and simple.
‘But he’s always with Isabella!” Benjamin was still rubbing his bruised shin. “Why get so defensive about the wife he’s desperate to divorce?”
For someone who claims to understand people, you’re remarkably dense.” Frank’s laugh held no humor. “Ever heard of protesting too much? The more Henry shows his hatred for Sophia, the more obvious the truth becomes.”
“What truth?”
‘She’s the only one who can touch his heart,” Frank ordered another round. “Even precious Isabella can’t compare.
