The Ex–Wife’s Redemption: A Love Reborn
Chapter 15
The rain was getting heavier and heavier, and each gust of wind a reminder of how empty the other side of the bed felt. I jolted awake, my silk nightgown drenched in cold sweat, Isabella’s perfect smile still haunting my dreams. Her words echoed in my mind, crystal clear despite the thunder outside, ‘You’re just a substitute.”
My heart hammered against my ribs as I instinctively reached for Henry’s side of the bed. Cold, empty. Just like every other night since Isabella’s return to New York.
How naive I’d been, thinking I could build a real marriage from our arrangement. From Columbia Medical School dropout to Mrs. Henry Harding, it had seemed like a fairy tale. But fairy tales don’t usually involve the prince ignoring me for five years, waiting for
his true love’s return.
My hands trembled as I reached for my phone. The screen’s harsh light illuminated the vast emptiness of our bedroom as I dialed Henry’s private number. One ring. Two rings. The call disconnected abruptly, leaving me staring at the blank screen.
Moments later, a message appeared: “Know your place.”
Three words. That’s all it took to crystallize five years of marriage into perfect clarity. I wasn’t Cinderella after all, I was just the placeholder, keeping his bed warm until Isabella returned. The realization should have hurt more, but perhaps I’d known all along.
Better to end this farce with dignity, I thought, watching lightning illuminate the grounds of the Harding Estate. Better to step aside before Isabella pushed me out of the way. But Billy… my heart clenched at the thought of my son.
Across town, the storm raged just as fiercely over Isabella Scott’s Park Avenue apartment. Henry stood at the entrance, his expensive suit soaked through as he held an umbrella over Isabella’s head. Her makeup remained flawless, not a platinum strand out of place as she glided into the lobby.
“Welcome home, Miss Scott!” Martha, the elderly housekeeper, practically glowed with joy. “Everything’s exactly as you left it. Five years, and not a thing out of place.”
Isabella’s eyes swept over the familiar space, artfully filling with tears. “Oh, Henry,” she breathed, turning to embrace him. “It feels like nothing’s changed.”
She rose on tiptoe, her designer perfume enveloping Henry as she pressed her lips to his. The kiss was perfectly executed, just the right mix of innocence and passion, calculated to remind him of their shared past.
Henry maintained his gentlemanly facade, but his mind betrayed him. Instead of losing himself in Isabella’s familiar touch, he found himself thinking of different lips, a different scent. Sophia’s face flashed unbidden in his mind.
“I should check some work emails,” he muttered, retreating to the study. The moment he was gone, Isabella’s innocent expression vanished. She moved with practiced efficiency, locating Henry’s phone where he’d absent–mindedly left it. Her perfectly manicured nails made quick work of intercepting Sophia’s call, composing and sending that cruel message.
By the time Henry returned downstairs, everything was back in place including Isabella’s mask of adoration. He bid her goodnight with perfect politeness, his face unreadable as he stepped back into the storm.
Morning arrived with a bitter chill, the storm having stripped the last warmth from the autumn air. After dropping Billy at Brooklyn Heights Academy, I found myself at Betty’s Park Avenue apartment, my hands wrapped around a cooling cup of coffee.
Divorce?” Betty nearly dropped her own cup. “Sophia, do you have any idea what this will do? The entire city will be talking about nothing else!”
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Chapter 15
“I signed the papers,” I said quietly, “Henry hasn’t yet, but…”
“Oh my God,” Betty leaned forward, her PR instincts kicking in. “Baby, this is huge! Should we leak it to the press? Get ahead of the
story?”
I shook my head, staring into my coffee. “You’re missing the point, Betty. This isn’t about scandal or publicity. It’s about…” I
I’m just… tired.”
struggled to find the words. “Five years of trying to be the perfect Mrs. Harding
Betty’s expression softened. “Oh, honey.” She reached across the table to squeeze my hand. “I never understood why you stayed so
long.”
“Because I thought…” I swallowed hard. “I thought if I just tried hard enough, if I was patient enough, he might eventually see me. Really see me, not just as an obligation or a replacement.” A bitter laugh escaped me. “Stupid, right?”
“Not stupid,” Betty corrected. “Human. But Sophia… maybe it’s time to stop waiting for Henry Harding to become the man you
deserve.”
I nodded, tears finally spilling over. “I know. I know that now. I just wish…” The words caught in my throat. “I wish I’d known five
years ago.”
Outside Betty’s window, New York was coming alive, oblivious to my crumbling world. Somewhere in this vast city, Isabella was probably waking up in her perfect apartment, planning her perfect future with my husband. And for the first time, I found I didn’t have the energy to fight it anymore.
“Know your place,” I whispered, repeating Henry’s message. The words that had seemed so cruel last night now felt like freedom. Because finally, after five long years, I did know my place, and it wasn’t by Henry Harding’s‘ side.
Betty squeezed my hand again. “So what now?”
“Now?” I managed a small smile. “Now I learn how to let go with grace. Because that’s one thing Isabella Scott could never do. But I’m still waiting for Henry to sign the divorce papers.”
“What?” Betty’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “But isn’t this what he’s always wanted? To be free to be with Isabella?” She leaned forward. “Wait a minute… something doesn’t add up here. If he’s so in love with Isabella, why wouldn’t he jump at the chance to divorce you?”
“Betty…” I tried to stop her, but she was on a roll.
“No, seriously! Think about it.” She began counting off points on her perfectly manicured fingers. “He’s been cold to you for five years. He parades around with Isabella. He makes it clear he doesn’t want this marriage. But when you actually offer him a way out…” She trailed off, looking at me with dawning suspicion. “Sophia, are you sure you understand what’s really going on in Henry Harding’s head?”
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