The Ex–Wife’s Redemption: A Love Reborn
Chapter 13
Hearing Henry’s words, I fell silent.
“Ten million isn’t enough?” Henry’s voice was cold as he pulled me into a shadowy corner of the stairs. “Or is Dr. Sanders worth
more than that to you?”
I steadied myself against the wall, fighting to keep my voice level. “Fine, I’ll find a way to pay the ten million. But I want Billy’s
custody.”
Henry’s eyes narrowed dangerously in the dim light. For a moment, neither of us spoke, the only sound our breathing and the distant patter of rain against windows. Then, without warning, he closed the distance between us, his expensive suit brushing against my clothes as he effectively trapped me against the wall.
“Dr. Sanders must be quite impressive,” he sneered, “to make you so desperate for freedom.”
“This isn’t about Thomas!” I tried to push him away, but he caught my wrists, pinning them above my head. “I’ve told you already, he has nothing to do with this!”
Henry’s free hand gripped my chin, forcing me to meet his gaze. “Then what is it about, Sophia? Isn’t being Mrs. Harding what you’ve always wanted?”
A tear escaped, rolling down my cheek and landing on his hand. The warm droplet seemed to burn him, his grip tightened, and something dark flickered in his eyes.
Henry released me abruptly, reaching into his pocket for one of his expensive cigars. The flame from his lighter cast strange shadows across his face as he took a deep drag, the rich tobacco scent filling our cramped corner of the stairwell. Then, with deliberate slowness, he crushed the barely–smoked cigar against the wall beside my head.
“Listen carefully, Sophia Wilson.” His voice dropped to a dangerous whisper as he moved closer, trapping me between his arms. “Divorce happens when I say it happens. You don’t get to make that decision.”
Before I could respond, his mouth crashed onto mine in a brutal kiss. He tasted of expensive cigars and something metallic – blood, I realized distantly, probably from how hard he was kissing me. His hand slid down my body, touching me intimately through my clothes.
“Stop it!” I tried to push him away, my voice shaking. “Henry, please! Anyone could walk by!”
“Let them see,” he growled against my neck, his hand becoming more insistent. “Let them all see who you belong to.” His fingers found evidence of my body’s involuntary response, and he laughed darkly. “Look how wet you are. Your body knows who owns it, even if your mind is confused.”
“Henry, please,” I begged, embarrassment and anger warring in my voice. “This is a public hallway. Don’t you have any shame?”
His response was to press closer, his arousal evident against my hip. Shame? When my wife is planning to run off with another
man?”
“That’s not true!” I protested, still trying ineffectively to push him away. “And even if it were, isn’t Isabella waiting for you somewhere? Don’t you want to run back to her?”
The mention of Isabella’s name was like throwing gasoline on a fire. Henry’s hand tightened in my hair, yanking my expose my throat to his mouth.
head back to
“Say her name again,” he threatened, “and I’ll take you right here on these stairs.”
Despite my fear and anger, I couldn’t stop the words that spilled out “You love her so much, don’t you? Perfect Isabella Scott. Why
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Chapter 13
don’t you give her the Harding name she’s always wanted?”
Henry went completely still, his breath hot against my throat. When he spoke, his voice was deadly quiet. ‘If I ever hear the word divorce from you again, you’ll never see Billy again. Do you understand me?
I sagged against the wall, tears flowing freely now. “You’d use my son to punish me?
“He’s also my son, Henry corrected coldly, finally stepping back. “And you’re my wife. Those are facts that won’t change, no matter how many millions you offer or how many times you run to Thomas Sanders.”
Henry’s grip tightened as he pressed me harder against the wall. Despite my struggles, his strength was overwhelming, his body pinning me in place as his hands roamed possessively,
“Stop fighting,” he growled against my neck, his breath hot on my skin. “Your body’s already telling me what it wants.”
“Henry, please,” I gasped, still trying to push him away. “Not here… anyone could see….
The sound of footsteps and hushed whispers echoed from somewhere above us. Two maids passed by, their eyes carefully averted though I could hear their barely concealed murmurs. My face burned with shame and humiliation, but Henry seemed spurred on by the audience.
“What’s wrong?” His voice was cruel with mockery as his hands continued their assault. “Worried about what the maids will think? Don’t worry, they don’t dare to talk nonsense.”
Tears of frustration and anger streamed down my face as he took what he wanted, my protests falling on deaf ears. When he finally finished, he stepped back with a satisfied smirk, adjusting his clothing with practiced ease.
“What, you want more?” He laughed at my disheveled state. “Maybe we should give the maids another show?”
I slumped against the wall, my legs barely supporting me. The sound of more footsteps sent a fresh wave of shame through me as I frantically tried to straighten my clothes.
“Why?” I whispered, my voice hoarse. “Why do you keep doing this?
“Because you’re mine,” he answered coldly. “And you need to be reminded of that fact.”
Looking up at him through tear–blurred eyes, I found one last bit of defiance. “Is that what this is about? Ownership?” I laughed bitterly. “Henry, If I could choose again, I would never marry you, just let Isabella be Mrs. Harding.
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