Chapter 290
While the grand hall of the Harding estate buzzed with the scandal unfolding downstairs, the guest room on the second floor had become a world of its own.
That strange, acrid scent lingered in the air around us.
My heartbeat accelerated, my skin burned with sensitivity, and a primal need coursed through my veins–a consuming desire that made rational thought impossible.
Henry had barely kicked the door shut behind us before his mouth crashed against mine. His kiss was desperate, hungry–a man who’d been starving for years finally presented with a feast. I tried to push him away, but my body betrayed me, responding to his touch.
“Let go of me!” I shouted, mustering what little self–control remained. “Henry, you bastard! If you touch me, I’ll crush your
balls!”
But my threats dissolved into the heated air between us as Henry’s hands roamed my body with desperate urgency. His injured arm seemed forgotten, cast and sling discarded on the floor. He tore at my clothes with his good hand, his movements clumsy but determined.
“I’ve missed you,” he groaned against my neck, his breath hot and ragged. “God, I’ve missed this.”
As a normal woman, I had needs.
When Henry and I were first married, we craved each other desperately, nearly every night spent tangled in each other’s arms. But since signing those divorce papers, I’d avoided his touch completely, rejecting the attraction between our bodies.
Now, with whatever drug Isabella had unleashed coursing through my system, years of suppressed desire erupted like a
volcano.
I couldn’t stop myself from responding, couldn’t stop my fingers from digging into his shoulders, couldn’t stop the sounds
escaping my throat as he entered me with a forceful thrust.
Each of Henry’s thrusts sent shockwaves through my entire body. We were oblivious to the commotion out
Nothing existed beyond this room, beyond this bed, beyond our bodies moving together in a frantic rhythm.
Henry finished quickly the first time–it had been months since he’d been with a woman. Just ten minutes later, he ejaculated, collapsing against me, breathing heavily, his body slick with sweat.
But the drug’s effect hadn’t completely dissipated. Within minutes, he was ready again, rolling me beneath him, his eyes still unfocused but locked on mine.
The second time was slower, more deliberate, each twist of his hips satisfying both our pleasures.
The third time, my legs wrapped around his waist, pulling him deeper, we completely melted into each other’s bodies, my nails leaving crescent marks on his back.
After the third climax, the fog in my mind began to clear.
My rationality slowly returned, I was in bed with Henry–the man I despised, the man I was desperately trying to divorce.
Chapter 290
Somehow, we’d ended up here again, our bodies entangled, our breathing synchronized.
This realization hit me like a bucket of ice water.
I shoved him off me with all my strength, sending him tumbling to the floor.
“Get out!” I screamed, voice hoarse from our intense lovemaking. “Get the fuck away from me!”
Henry landed hard on the carpeted floor. He blinked rapidly, looking around in confusion before his gaze settled on me- naked, furious, and trembling with rage.
“Sophia,” he started. “I-”
“Shut up!” I cut him off, grabbing the sheet to cover myself. “You disgusting, despicable bastard! How could you?”
I scrambled for my phone on the nightstand, my fingers shaking with fury. “I’m going to have you arrested,” I spat, already dialing. “Drugging me? Raping me? You’ll rot in prison for this!”
Panic flashed across Henry’s face as he struggled to his feet. “Sophia, please, you have to listen. It wasn’t me–I didn’t do
this!”
“Oh, really?” I laughed bitterly. “Then who did? Your body seemed to know exactly what it was doing!”
Without waiting for his response, I completed the call. “Hello? Police? I need to report a sexual assault.”
Henry’s face drained of color. “Sophia, please-”
I threw his discarded clothes at him. “Put these on! The police will be here soon.”
While he fumbled with his pants, I quickly dressed. The moment I was decent, I flung open the door and rushed downstairs, desperately searching for the police.
I spotted them the instant they entered the grand hall! “Officers!” I called out, waving frantically. “I’m the one who called! I’ve been drugged and sexually assaulted by my soon–to–be ex–husband, Henry Harding!”
My words echoed through the suddenly silent room. Two female officers immediately came to my side, supporting me as my entire body trembled.
“He used some kind of drug,” I explained rapidly.
As the officers led me toward the door, I heard a commotion behind me. Henry had staggered out of the room, shirt half- buttoned, face pale and strained. He took two unsteady steps toward the staircase before suddenly clutching his chest and collapsing to the floor.
William, already stressed by the evening’s events, witnessed his grandson’s fall and immediately rose from his chair in alarm. Too quickly–his face contorted with pain, and he, too, crumpled to the ground, the strain proving too much for his
weakened heart.
The hall erupted into chaos. Richard abandoned his accusations against Isabella and rushed to his father and son. ‘Get the doctor!” he shouted, his commanding voice cutting through the panic. “Now!”
Richard, his face ashen, directed the evacuation of guests while simultaneously arranging for ambulances. “Keep those women under guard,” he ordered security, referring to Isabella and Catherine. “Once my father and son are stable, they’ll
Chapter 290
answer for this.”
As the paramedics loaded William and Henry into separate ambulances, Grace came running, her face streaked with tears. She threw herself into her father’s arms.
“Dad, I’m so sorry,” she sobbed, clinging to him desperately. “This is all my fault! I shouldn’t have let Isabella come! I’m sorry, I’m sorry…”
Richard held his daughter tightly, tears slipping silently down his weathered cheeks.
He said nothing, simply standing there like an ancient oak–battered by storms but still unbending, still strong for his
family.
At the hospital’s examination room, I lay still as the forensic examiner collected evidence.
I recounted every detail of what had happened.
The truth was, from the moment Catherine called with her “suggestion,” I suspected Catherine and Isabella were planning something.
When she mentioned bringing Isabella to care for Henry, I knew they were plotting something sinister. But I also desperately wanted my divorce.
So I decided to play along, let their plan unfold–but according to my ideas.
I never expected drugs would be involved, but when I spotted Isabella spraying that mysterious bottle, I had the idea to turn their plan against them.
After the examination was complete, I handed the bottle to the female examiner. “This is his weapon,” I said calmly. “His fingerprints should be on it.”
The examiner looked at me with puzzled eyes. “How did you have the presence of mind to collect this while under the influence of such a powerful drug?”
I didn’t answer her question. I simply smiled, thanked her, and walked out.
As I left the hospital, a sense of lightness filled my chest. This time, I would finally get my wish.
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