Chapter 86
Betty grabbed my arm as I stood up, her face mask wrinkling as she frowned. “Sophia, what are you doing?”
I placed her phone down on the coffee table, her social media feed still displaying that disturbing image of Henry. The red stain–whether blood or something else–sent an uncomfortable chill through me.
“I’m just throwing out the trash,” I replied casually, lifting the small kitchen garbage bag I’d tied earlier.
Betty’s eyes narrowed suspiciously behind her sheet mask.. “You better not be thinking what I think you’re thinking. Don’t you dare go soft on that bastard
now!”
When I took another step toward the door, Betty practically leapt from the couch, grabbing my shoulders. Her appearance was almost comical, with the face mask sliding down one cheek, but her expression remained dead serious.
“Sophia, she warned, her voice rising, ‘I swear to God, if you rush off to comfort that cheating dog after everythirig he’s put you through, I will never speak to you again! Henry has been tormenting you for years, and now he posts a photo to get your attention? Classic playing hard to get!”
I couldn’t help but smile at her passionate outburst. “Betty, you’re overthinking this. I’m literally just taking out the garbage.”
“Oh really?” Betty placed her hands on her hips. “So you’re not rushing off to check if Henry’s okay after seeing that photo?”
“That photo wasn’t meant for me to see,” I explained with a sigh. “It’s obviously aimed at Isabella. He probably just wants her sympathy and attention
I gestured to my outfit–worn sweatpants and an oversized t–shirt. “Do I look dressed to go anywhere? Besides, I care about my dignity. He’s made it perfectly clear I’m not the one he wants or needs.”
Betty studied me for a long moment before reluctantly letting go. “Fine. But I hope you’ve grown. biting you.”
You’re just too soft–hearted. You’d even forgive a snake for
“I’m not forgiving anything,” I assured her, heading toward the door. “I certainly won’t rush to his side. I refuse to have any more connection with him.*
As I stepped into the hallway, I heard Betty mutter, “That bastard put you through five years of hell, and now he has the nerve to play victim.”
I closed the door behind me, leaning against it for a moment.
The truth was, seeing Henry in that state, I couldn’t remain indifferent.
But I meant what I said–I wouldn’t be manipulated anymore.
Betty was undeniably smart and perceptive. She knew me better than anyone. For years, she’d witnessed firsthand how deeply I loved Henry, how I’d tolerate almost anything just to stay by his side. Even when he treated me with indifference, my loyalty never wavered.
When I returned after taking out the trash, Betty seemed somewhat confused by my determination. She clearly thought I would fall back into old patterns, that I would compromise.
‘I can’t believe you’re actually not going,” she said, finally removing her face mask and tossing it in the trash.
I shrugged, settling back on the couch. “Why would I?,1 meant what I said, Betty. I’m done.”
Betty looked at me, her eyes filled with new respect. “Well, I’m proud of you. I just wasn’t prepared to accept your transformation so quickly.”
“Things change,‘ I said simply. ‘People change.”
Betty smiled, patting my hand. “As long as you’re happy, do whatever feels right to you.”
In the dimly lit VIP room of the club, Henry lay on the leather couch, his eyes half–closed. Every sound from the hallway made his heart rate spike in anticipation. Two hours had passed since Benjamin posted that staged photo.
She said she loved me, he thought bitterly. Claiming to love me for five years, and now she won’t even come to check if I’m alive or dead.
1/2
Chapter 86
The minutes ticked by. As midnight approached, Henry’s confidence began to waver, Benjamin paced nervously by the door, repeate
“Maybe she didn’t see it,” he suggested, though his voice lacked conviction.
Henry didn’t respond, his pride, refusing to let him acknowledge his dependence on Sophia.
Suddenly, footsteps approached from the hallway. Both men instantly perked up, Henry quickly resuming his position of feigned unconsciousness le Benjamin hurriedly arranged the scene, making sure the fake blood stains were clearly visible.
Remember, Benjamin whispered urgently. “Don’t move. Let me handle everything!”
44
The door opened, and Benjamin’s face immediately fell. Standing in the doorway was Isabella, not Sophia.
Henry, still pretending to be unconscious, remained motionless. In his alcohol–clouded mind, he was certain it must be Sophia–she couldn’t be that heartless; she still loved him.
Benjamin and Isabella had never gotten along. He had always seen through her pretense, that carefully crafted fragility that had Henry at her beck and call.
“What are you doing here?” Benjamin asked, making no effort to hide his disappointment.
Isabella ignored him, rushing to Henry’s side. “Henry! Oh my God, what happened to him?”
Henry, sluggish from alcohol, took several seconds to realize something was wrong. The voice wasn’t Sophia’s. When Isabella began shaking his arm, he slowly opened his eyes, struggling to focus on the blurry figure before him.
His vision doubled, then tripled.
The woman’s face remained indistinct.
In his drunken state, he mumbled.
*Sophia?”
Isabella’s expression hardened momentarily before softening into practiced concern. “No, Henry. It’s me,
Isabella.”
The disappointment must have been evident on Henry’s face because Isabella’s eyes flashed with anger. She quickly composed herself, taking his hand and pressing it against her cheek.
‘Feel my face, darling,” she coaxed sweetly. “It’s Isabella. I came as soon as I saw Benjamin’s post.”
When Henry remained unresponsive, still scanning the room as if expecting someone else to appear, Isabella’s patience began to thin. She guided his hand downward, pressing it firmly against her chest.
‘Do you recognize me now?” she whispered, leaning closer. “It’s always been me, Henry. I’m the one who truly cares about you.”
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