Chapter 304
Through the police car window, I could see her in their car behind us, frantically trying to fix her disheveled hair while dramatically sobbing her story to her powerful husband.
“That bitch isn’t getting away with this,” she said loudly enough for her voice to be heard clearly.
“They both need to be locked up! No–prison isn’t enough. I want them destroyed online too!”
Henry sat alone in his study, surrounded by documents needing his signature.
Because of his injured right arm, he was forced to sign with his left hand.
Since Henry couldn’t go to the office, James had been dutifully bringing the paperwork to his home.
After finishing the day’s required signatures, Henry opened the folder about Sam that James had delivered.
The details were sparse. According to the report, Sam Davis had died in the line of duty six years ago. The file didn’t specify what mission he’d been on, only that he had made the ultimate sacrifice.
The timing matched perfectly with when Henry had first encountered Sophia.
“How deeply did Sophia love this man to attempt to die with him?” Henry wondered bitterly.
The more he read, the more painful the realization became.
If Sam hadn’t died–if he’d lived–would Sophia have ever considered marrying Henry? Or would she have remained devoted to her childhood sweetheart?
“Sophia, am I just Sam’s replacement to you?” The thought caused him immense pain.
As he stared at Sam’s photograph, immersed in his pain, his phone rang.
James called to inform him that Sophia had been taken to a police station after a conflict at Billy’s school.
Under normal circumstances, Henry wouldn’t have hesitated–he would have rushed to her side immediately.
But anger clouded his judgment. Why should he help her? She only brought him pain. If she truly saw him as a replacement for her dead lover, why should he care what happened to her?
“Leave her alone,” he told James coldly. “She’s perfectly capable of handling herself.” If Sophia was so independent and competent, let her solve her own problems
At the police station, I was led to a quiet small room.
A female officer followed me in, her expression full of sympathy.
“Listen,” she said in a low voice, “that woman you got into a fight with? Her husband has serious connections. People like
us can’t afford to cross people like them.” She leaned closer. “Just apologize, pay some compensation, show a little remorse. We’ll mediate, and this whole thing will blow over. Don’t make this harder on yourself.”
But I’ve always been stubborn–I’d rather break than bend.
Chapter 304
Why should we apologize when we weren’t in the wrong?
On the way to the police station, I had asked Billy why he hit the other boy. His answer shocked me: the child had called me a ‘gold–digger” and worse names that a six–year–old shouldn’t even know, let alone repeat.
These weren’t words a child would come up with on his own. He must have heard them from his parents, who clearly didn’t mind discussing such things in front of children.
Since neither Billy nor I had done anything wrong, I refused to apologize.
The room contained a single bed. Billy was exhausted from the ordeal, so I helped him remove his coat and tucked him in I sat beside him, gently stroking his hair as he fell asleep.
But watching my son curl up protectively, his face still stained with tears, doubt began to creep in. Even in sleep, his small shoulders trembled.
Had I made the right choice?
Did my so–called pride really have to put my child through this?
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