“Second princess.”
Those two words stabbed Grace’s heart like a dagger, twisting deeper with each passing moment. She stared at her shattered phone, shards of glass glittering across the floor like tears.
The internet had erupted with cruel comments, each one more vicious than the last, all mockingly referring to her as the “second princess” now that Isabella had been officially adopted into the family.
The public didn’t know Isabella was actually Catherine’s biological daughter with another man. But Grace knew.
She’d always felt an inexplicable connection to Isabella, a strange sense of closeness. Whenever she saw Isabella, her heart would warm with fondness. She had thought it was simply because they shared similar interests.
Now everything had a terrible explanation.
They were sisters. Blood relatives. Both born from Catherine’s womb.
No wonder we felt close. How could we not?
This realization made her throat bitter. All those times her mother had forced her to accommodate Isabella, be nice to her,
give in to her demands–it wasn’t about etiquette at all.
In Catherine’s heart, she had always valued this illegitimate daughter more than Grace.
And now, Grace had been demoted to “second princess” in her own family.
The word “second” burned in her mind like a shadow she couldn’t escape.
Looking at the shattered phone pieces scattered across the floor, all the humiliations she had recently suffered came flooding back.
Her mother’s betrayal. Her father’s coldness. The public mockery. Her brother’s indifference.
“Fine!” she screamed, her voice breaking with anger. “You all think you can walk all over me? I’ll show you exactly who you’re dealing with!”
She slammed her bedroom door with such force that the picture frames on the wall shook, then stormed out of the house,
her mind swirling with plans for revenge.
Spring was gradually arriving. Temperatures were beginning to rise, bringing a hint of warmth to the previously cold air.
After weeks of turmoil, Harding Investment’s stock had finally stabilized and even started to climb. The pressure from the Smith family had subsided, allowing everyone to breathe a little easier.
In the Harding headquarters office, Henry stared blankly at the documents before him. His right arm wound had physically healed, but he could still occasionally feel phantom pain shooting through it–much like the wound in his heart.
Though the bandages were gone, the deeper damage remained.
He knew exactly where Sophia was–which hospital, which room. This information was in his daily briefing.
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Every fiber of his being wanted to go to her, yet something held him back.
She sees me as Sam’s replacement.
This thought burned like acid in his throat. Henry Harding had always been the one pursued by others, the one people wanted to please. He was accustomed to being irreplaceable, not being a replacement.
The more he thought about it, the more his pride felt wounded. And the angrier he became, the more determined he was to stay away from Sophia.
Nevertheless, whenever James mentioned her condition, he couldn’t help but listen intently.
According to reports, since waking up, Sophia had been completely unresponsive. She wouldn’t eat, wouldn’t drink, wouldn’t speak. She simply stared into space with vacant eyes, as if her soul had departed, leaving only an empty shell.
Betty was the only one who could occasionally get a response from her, but even those rare words were heartbreakings she
would only whisper Sam’s name.
Just hearing that name made Henry’s face instantly darken. Each time, he would retreat to his office, work through the night, burying himself in spreadsheets and reports to avoid thinking about Sophia.
He remembered something Benjamin had once told him: “Men typically prefer women who give them space and maintain emotional stability. But women are essentially emotional creatures. They like to express small annoyances to those they love, make little demands. If a woman is completely calm around you, showing no emotional fluctuations, it means she doesn’t truly love you. She’s not treating you as her most intimate person.”
Looking back, Henry realized Sophia had always been emotionally stable around him. She never clung to him, never lost her temper, never demanded his attention.
So the more stable her emotions, the less she loves me? Is that right?
All those times he had interpreted her calmness as maturity, was it actually emotional detachment because she didn’t love him? She verbally claimed to love him, but how could love exist without emotional waves?
He desperately wanted to confront her, to ask directly: “Are you tired of me being your replacement now?” But he couldn’t summon the courage.
He feared her answer would be “yes.”
If she said yes, he would have no reason to continue fighting for their marriage.
Since realizing how deeply he had misunderstood Sophia, his attempts to win her back had been hesitant and fearful. He dreaded hearing the word “divorce” from her lips again.
Now, there seemed to be nothing left between them except that pending divorce. It was both laughable and tragic.
After signing the last document, Henry glanced at the darkness outside the window. The north wind howled outside, rattling the windows.
Despite his reservations, he decided to visit the hospital. It was late–Sophia was probably asleep. He would just look at her once, then leave without disturbing her.
As the car drove closer to the hospital, Henry’s heart beat more intensely. Upon arrival, he could feel it pounding violently
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in his chest. A night–shift nurse immediately recognized him and approached with information about his grandfather.
“Mr. Harding, your grandfather’s condition has stabilized. We’re just waiting for a suitable heart donor for the transplant. After the surgery, he should recover well.”
“The ICU is closed to visitors at this hour, so you won’t be able to see him tonight. Perhaps you could return tomorrow?”
Henry nodded approvingly at her. “Continue with your work. I’m here to see another patient.”
He walked alone down the corridor toward Sophia’s room, but halfway there, a familiar figure caught his attention.
Despite it being nearly eleven at night, when patients should be sleeping, Sophia was leaving her room, wearing only a thin hospital gown.
་
She was purposefully heading toward a secluded area of the hospital. Out of curiosity and concern, Henry followed at a distance. Sophia seemed very familiar with the layout, navigating through various twists and turns until reaching an – unmonitored exit, where she slipped outside.
She immediately hailed a taxi. Worried about losing her, Henry quickly got into another cab, instructing the driver to
follow her.
For over an hour, the two taxis drove through the entire city, weaving through Manhattan’s streets. Finally, they stopped at a cemetery entrance.
Henry had his driver stop at a distance, not wanting Sophia to spot him.
By the time he approached on foot, Sophia had already entered the cemetery.
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