Chapter 294
I had planned to use the police report to force Henry to comply, which should have given me a sense of victory, a feeling of finally gaining freedom.
Instead, I felt a heaviness in my chest that made it difficult to breathe.
The Harding family was in crisis. William was critically ill, Henry was recovering from surgery, and the company’s stock was plummeting.
All of this happened because I decided to participate in Catherine and Isabella’s scheme.
I should have been celebrating my imminent freedom.
Why did I feel emptiness instead?
“I understand your feelings about the divorce,” Richard said gently, misinterpreting my silence. “But now isn’t the right time…” His voice trailed off, though the unspoken request was clear.
I reached into my pocket and pulled out a small camera, no bigger than a shirt button. I placed it in Richard’s palm.
“Dad, this contains the complete video,” I said softly. “I suspected Isabella would do something, so I prepared in advance. If you have the PR department broadcast this footage on a 24–hour loop, I guarantee the company’s crisis will be resolved quickly.”
Richard stared at the miniature camera in disbelief.
“I never intended for Harding stock to crash,” I continued, guilt seeping into my voice. “I just wanted Henry to finalize our
divorce. This is all I can do to make amends.”
In fact, I had started recording the moment Catherine approached me with her suspicious “plan.”
The button camera had captured everything–from Catherine giving Isabella that bottle of drugs to Isabella’s shameless display at the party. The evidence was clear and damning.
Richard clutched the tiny device, looking at me with newfound respect and a certain sadness.
“Sophia,” he said slowly, “why are you so determined to divorce? Henry has finally recognized his mistakes. He’s pushing Isabella away. Couldn’t you give him one more chance?”
I remained silent, struggling to articulate the devastation Henry had caused.
How could I explain that a heart once completely shattered cannot be repaired?
Richard continued, his voice filled with fatherly concern. “I know my son was a completek before. But now that he’s seen Isabella’s true nature, he’s genuinely trying to change. Is there really no possibility of reconciliation?”
Richard had always treated me like his own daughter. From the moment I entered the Harding family, he’d shown me nothing but kindness and respect. How could I refuse him directly?
My silence gradually made him understand.
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He nodded in resignation, pocketing the miniature camera. Divorce is no small matter, child, Pleate think cas make a choice you might regret later, okay?”
I had no response. Richard could see I hadn’t absorbed any of his advice.
Accepting the failed persuasion, he summoned his assistant, whispered several instructions, and handed over the camera The device contained two crucial videos–today’s holiday incident and a previous interaction outside Henry’s Hospital room where Catherine had passed the bottle to Isabella while giving detailed instructions.
Combined together, the truth was obvious.
Within an hour, after Richard’s team had edited and released the footage, it exploded online, instantly becoming the number one trending topic.
Public opinion began overwhelmingly condemning Isabella, but at that moment I knew nothing about the online reaction.
I sat beside Henry’s hospital bed, gently cleaning his face with a warm washcloth.
The scene felt eerily familiar–six years ago, after his heart surgery, I’d cared for him in almost exactly the same way.
He looked peaceful lying there, eyes closed, his expression relaxed in sleep. He seemed almost like an innocent child.
The parallel to six years earlier created a strange sense of déjà vu that muddled my emotions.
I never wanted to hurt the Harding family, I thought as I wiped away the iodine stains from his face. I just wanted my divorce. If Henry had signed those papers earlier, none of this would have happened.
When Catherine extended her “olive branch,” I immediately smelled the trap. But rather than avoiding it, I chose to play along, secretly converting my shirt button into a miniature camera. I knew she would never genuinely help me—I was merely a tool she intended to use and discard.
As I finished cleaning his face and moved to his hands, Henry suddenly woke. His fingers closed tightly around mine, his
eyes flickering with surprised joy.
“Sophia!” he exclaimed, his voice hoarse but excited.
Unlike his excitement, my expression remained cold.
I was only here because Richard was busy reassuring company shareholders and couldn’t be in two places at once.
My first reaction was to pull my hand away. “You’re awake. Good. I’ll call the doctor,” I said coldly, trying to withdraw my
hand.
Henry struggled to maintain his grip, causing blood to back up into his IV line.
Seeing his desperate determination, I hesitated, reluctantly staying put. “Fine,” I sighed heavily. “I suppose I owe you that
much.”
“Sophia, I was drugged, Henry insisted, his eyes pleading for understanding. “I’m so sorry for what happened. I promise I’ll uncover the truth and make everything right.”
I almost wanted to tell him that I already knew the truth–his mother and Isabella had orchestrated the entire disaster, and I was part of the plan too, except things hadn’t gone the way they had hoped.
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Instead, they had gone according to my plan.
But what was the point? Drawing a deep breath, I replied, “I don’t need explanations. I only need one thing from
Henry’s lips curved into a hopeful smile. “Anything–except divorce. I’d do ten thousand things for you!
His attempt at humor left me unmoved.
My eyes remained cold as I delivered my ultimatum: “I’ve already submitted evidence to the police. What happened could be classified as drug–facilitated sexual assault.”
Henry opened his mouth to defend himself, but I cut him off.
“If you agree to the divorce,” I continued firmly, “I’m willing to drop all charges.”
When he finally understood this wasn’t a negotiation but an ultimatum, his face fell.
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